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Travel Article for Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.
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*Cha Gio- Fried Spring Rolls*Pho- Vietnamese noodle
The golden-‐yellow ball of fire surfaced the polluted sky by 5:00. Crowded streets do=ed with tourists bargaining, vendors hollering and people hustling around making their way through a city of many secrets and histories. Vietnamese women in conical straw hats cleaned the walk ways with their wooden brooms. They pay li=le to no a=enCon to you, except for the ones lined up on the streets that offered you local delicacies and souvenirs. Fast moving paced streets are flooded with a sea of motorbikes,three wheeled cyclos and cars, their engines
roared like a hungry lion and caused a cloud of musty grey smoke to rise and contribute to polluCon. The thick humid air buzzed with Vietnamese conversaCons and the piercings honks from motorbikes. This was nothing out the ordinary; a typical day in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.
Miss Dove led the group marching to a corner of a bustling street, when a herd of men made their way, with a cyclo. I took a seat on the scorching cushioned seat and shield my brown eyes with the
black lens of my ray ban, as my
peddler began the tour of the enchanCng city. I wandered through Cmeless alleys to towering cathedrals and busy markets, past old French-‐styled buildings painted in every shade of pastel selling Pho*and Cha Gio*, before
Exploring Ho Chi Minh
Hello VietnamNOVEMBER 2010 BY: OLIVIA SO
The streets of Ho Chi Minh City.
Skyscraper in Ho Chi Minh City
fast-‐forwarding into the future beneath sleek soaring skyscrapers, designer malls and gourmet restaurants. Passed uncountable amount of Vietnamese noodle restaurants, the thought of star-‐anise infused broth over rice noodles, strips of beef, pork, green onions, mint and basil.
A xin chao* came every now and then from the hurried by passers, because they knew a tourist when they saw one. I glared at a woman in a conical hat carrying hairy ruby red Rambutan in a weaved basket, while two motorcyclists pulled out their cigare=es and took long drags. The overwhelming smell of the cigare=e smoke burned my nose as I inhaled and caused my eyes to water. I tapped the metal edges of my cyclo impaCently, no longer able to stand the foul scent. The
middle age peddler quickly pulled to a stop, when a rushed red motorbike nearly hit the side of the sparkling silver cyclo. He mu=ered something Vietnamese under his breath and conCnued to push through the monstrous traffic. The fiery rays of the morning sun was beaCng down on me, with no shade from the cyclo, I was drenched in my own salty sweat. AUer an hour of touring the congested city, my enervated peddler dropped me off at the beloved Kim Do Hotel.
*Xin Chao- Hello in Vietnamese
Goodbye Vietnam
On a humid Wednesday, we arrived at the Mekong Delta rest stop late aUernoon, while the sun is at its peak. A herd of tourists rushed into the souvenir store, wandering around the large arrays of vibrant colored plates and jewelry. The restaurant had an extravagant lotus pond nearby, the baby pink petals of the lotus floated above the clear water, giving off a melancholy mood. Just outside the indoor dining area of the rest stop, two women in teal aprons were frying a clump of white gluCnous rice in the burning oil. The sCcky rice slowly enlarged into a hollow ball, with a light caramel colored exterior. Just moments aUer witnessing the process of making the rice balls, I took my first taste. The exterior was crunchy and caramelized, while the inside was soU and incredibly sweet. The waitress brought out other selecCons of Vietnamese cuisine, which consisted of deep fried fish, beef, spring rolls and salad. The beef was vaguely similar to the Indonesian satay lilin; the slightly burnt beef was wrapped around lemon grass, which sweetness contrasted with the salCness of the beef. The opaque rice paper was coiled around le=uce, shrimp and other condiments; this parCcular cuisine is meant to be dipped in a large selecCon of sweet and sour sauces. This had reminded me of the sambal; most every Indonesian has with their meals, although the Vietnamese spring roll sauce wasn’t as fiery as sambal itself.
Ho Chi Minh is a forever busy city with hecCc traffic and humid weather, is not any much different from Jakarta, but with its disCnct delicacy, unique architecture and painful history, Ho Chi Minh is one of a kind. I remembered two weeks before landing in Ho Chi Minh City, a Vietnamese-‐American lady had told me that this city
is no different from any other city. It was on okay place to visit, but not the best. AUer having experienced the different flavors and aspect of the city, I had realized Ho Chi Minh was not just an okay place to visit. It was amazing.
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Flavors of Vietnam
Photos taken by Olivia