VIETNAM - Saigon, Feb. 12

I was again woken up early by the sounds from the kitchen downstairs. I had a quick shower, checked some things online using the computers in the common area, then walked down the street to a coffee shop I'd seen the day before that looked like it might be good for breakfast. The place, called Cafe Sozo, is a Western-styled coffee shop with baked goods for sale and a small menu of hot breakfast items. I ordered coffee and toast with marmalade, then headed upstairs to the second floor as the servers suggested.

Quoc Tu Pagoda

I enjoyed the atmosphere but it took forever for the servers to bring my coffee, and even longer for them to deliver my toast. The coffee was cold and the toast was mangled and unevenly toasted. The one thing they got right was they served the toast with a generous dollop of marmalade. I was pissed off to have yet another bad meal in Ho Chi Minh City, but then I read some of the literature displayed on the walls and realized that the cafe trained disadvantaged youth and that profits supported a number of non-profit groups serving the disabled. Okay, then. All is forgiven.

My big adventure for the day, I decided, was going to be to walk to the Quoc Tu Pagoda in District 10, which was a hop-skip-and-jump across District 3 from where I was in District 1. (It must be a French thing.) The walk was interesting as well as a bit dangerous and really, really hot. It took about 45 minutes to get to the pagoda, by which time it was close to noon. There were literally hundreds of people at the pagoda - not surprising given that it was Lunar New Year. As far as I could tell I was the only foreigner/tourist at the pagoda. I didn't want to intrude on people's religious affairs so I waited politely until people had finished their prayers before taking photos. No one approached me or gave me the death stare, so I assume I wasn't doing anything too offensive.

Outside, I had the luck of witnessing a drum and dance troupe perform. I have seen drum and dance troupes performing all over the city, but these young men - and they were all men - were really quite good performers. They performed for about 30 minutes, which I expect is about as much as they could handle in the noonday heat.

Sidewalk produce market

I started to feel woozy, perhaps because of the heat or perhaps because of the incense, so I walked a couple of blocks down the street to a hotel I had noticed on the way to the pagoda. The hotel's cafe, called the Rose Cafe, was a little "oasis" outside that was shaded by trees and umbrellas. It was filled with locals so I knew it would be a good place to stop. I was so thirsty that I ordered three drinks. I sat there drinking, sweating, and fighting dizziness for quite a while. I realized that I might be experiencing the leading edge of heatstroke, so I decided against walking home. I waited until I felt like I wasn't going to collapse and then walked across the street to what I thought would be a good location to catch a cab. Sure enough, one came by quite quickly. The driver didn't speak English but I had my travel map and was able to point to where I wanted to go. That 10-minute air conditioned trip was totally worth the $50,000.

I rested up at the hostel until late afternoon, then walked down Bui Vien to try Mumtaz Indian Restaurant. A sign outside the restaurant said it was recommended by the Lonely Planet, so I thought it might be worth a try. I certainly wasn't expecting much because of my earlier experiences.

I ordered the "thali," a mixed plate of curry, daal, rice, naan, and pickle. It came in three varieties - chicken, mutton, and vegetarian. I decided to try the chicken and the owner led me to a table with a view of the street.

Almost all restaurants on Bui Vien are open-air, which means that the front of the restaurant is open to the street. Tables that are close to the street provide some great people-watching opportunities. Well, that is if you have introvert tendencies, like me. A lot of the younger foreigners use their positions at street-side tables to preen and display their beautiful exteriors - "see and be seen" is perhaps the best way to describe it.

Sidewalk produce market

I was really just interested in enjoying the slight breeze and having something to occupy me while I ate my meal. Solo dining is a bit of an art, and one of those "arts" is displaying body language that lets people know you are totally cool with dining alone. Smokers have it easy in that regard, those bastards. My favorite thing to do, though, is to sit back with a drink in hand and just observe the world passing by, as if I'm enjoying a theater performance. And, thankfully, Vietnam streets are quite theatrical.

The thali, when it arrived, was huge. It could easily have fed two people. The chicken curry was good but the chicken was dry and a bit chewy. I'm not sure why, but almost all protein is overcooked here in Vietnam. Maybe it's a hygiene thing? Anyway, I enjoyed the potato curry much more. The daal was also delicious, and the rice and naan were perfect vehicles for sopping up the sauces. The pickle was mostly onion, again, so I only tried a little bit. I left the restaurant fully satisfied at finally having a good meal.

Sidewalk produce market

It was still early so I walked around the area again. I'd seen a very informal produce "market" set up on the sidewalk of a nearby road earlier in the day so I walked over there again to take some photos. I also went up and down some of the small alleys, just because I was curious. Most of the alleys are a mix of homes, hostels, restaurants, shops, and "living rooms." People in Ho Chi Minh City spend a lot of time just sitting out in the alleys eating and socializing.

I did a bit of shopping as well. I'm finding it incredibly hard to find nice gifts for people. There is a shit tonne of crap to choose from - pardon my French, and the pun - but nothing hand-made or unique. (I did buy something but I can't say what it is here, because it's still a secret.)

I was in one shop when I heard a loud disturbance outside. I moved to the front of the shop to snoop, and saw an older white guy sitting at a table at a cafe across the street, talking to a middle-aged Vietnamese woman. She looked pissed, but also kind of pleased. It's hard to explain. He kept repeating "He said it to me, not to you!" The woman looked away from him repeatedly, then got up and announced to the entire street "I don't know this man!" and stalked off. He got up and followed her, still bleating "He said it to me, not to you!" I figure it was a bit of a "customer" spat.