It was 9.45 p.m. Pratik and I were on Ton That Tung Street, going towards Pham Ngu Lao; the tourists, probably in their early twenties, smiled as they walked past in the opposite direction.

Seconds later, there was a shout, and we heard someone flying past us. One of the boys was running frantically after a speeding motorbike.

Having lived in Saigon long enough, I knew the motorbike thieves were on the prowl.

While the athletic of the five ran after the thieves, we turned around to see the rest of the group looking absolutely stunned.

The thieves had snatched a shoulder bag off one of the girls. Thankfully, she had emptied the purse of everything but her iPhone. She was too shocked to say much, but said she was so glad she had taken her passport out of the bag before leaving the guesthouse.

Every few days, we hear of stories of tourists getting mugged in the city, mostly in District 1 in the backpacker’s area. While most people I know in Saigon have been robbed at some point of time – of phones, money, pendants, MP3 players, you-name-it, it’s so easy to stay safe here too.

1. Wear a small backpack. Put everything in it. I’ve been using a raggedy backpack (bought for $4 on Bui Vien Street) for a year and half now. It holds everything, is light, and keeps my hands free for Taekwondo moves if need be. Wearing bags cross-shoulder isn’t good enough. A friend got dragged face-down, 200 meters before the thieves let go. She kept her bag, but was bruised all over. It’s not worth it.

2. Put your jewellery away. The motorbike thieves would do anything for a quick buck. Even if it is a funky pendant bought in a dollar store, the thieves are gonna take a chance and snatch it off your neck. In a city of people becoming increasingly careful with their bags, this seems to be the latest craze among motorbike thieves. My TA had a $3 pendant snatched off her, and a colleague’s student lost a solitaire.

While I’ve never heard of earrings being snatched, I just don’t take a chance. The thought of bleeding earlobes is enough to deter me.

Turn your ring inwards on your finger, so the lovely solitaire doesn’t attract unwanted attention. A friend’s wedding band went missing after a prostitute grabbed his hand on the streets. The friend noticed only when he returned home.

3. Wear a money belt. All along Bui Vien and Pham, one can buy these for as little as $3-4. Wearing them under your t-shirt is the best way to keep your money, phone and passport away from lurking thieves’ eyes.

4. Don’t flash your flashy gadgets. Not on the streets of Vietnam. If you get a call while you’re on a bike, or walking on the sidewalk (what little there is), stop, get as far away from the street as you can, and then answer the call. Hold the phone in the ear away from the motorbikes.

5. Get a taxi after dark. Once the streets start emptying, its that much easier for motorbike thieves to spot their prey and get away without being noticed. Mai Linh and Vinasun taxis in Ho Chi Minh City are the safest ones. They’re less likely to rip you off and cheaper than most others. Be careful of fake Mai Linhs and Vinasuns… there are plenty of illegals M-Linhs, VSuns, Vinataxis on the streets. Xeoms go for about VND 10-15,000 for every two kilometers.

6. Wallets in front pockets. Keep your back pockets empty, especially in the backpacker’s area – Pham Ngu Lao. If your trousers/jeans/shorts are loose, there’s a good chance you’ll never feel your wallet or phone getting picked. Best to keep things in a backpack.

Until my first morning, when roosters woke me up to a cacophonous crowing match at 5 a.m. Now that does not happen in Indian urbania.

That’s how a typical day in Saigon begins for me. You’d think it was an unearthly hour for roosters to be crowing, but look out the windows, you’ll see old men already sitting down for a game of backgammon, women sweeping the alley, men grooming their roosters (yes, the same dreaded roosters that wake me up every morning), teens heading to the park for a game of badminton or ‘shuttlecock’, and school kids sipping pho and chanting trigonometric theorems.

Earplugs in, curtains drawn tight to block out the warmth of the sun, back to sleep.

The harsh Saigon sun manages to pierce through my dark brown curtains around eight. There’s no point in staying in bed anymore. I wake up and head downstairs for a drink of soy milk. Fresh milk is hard to come by in Vietnam, and expensive. For a dair-oholic like me, it’s a tough choice between no milk and soy milk.

It’s a weekday. I don’t have to go anywhere. I teach ESL classes in the evenings.
But I need to plan for lunch. The street outside my alley (everyone in Saigon lives in alleys – well, almost everyone) has a vegetable market every morning.

I step out into the searing heat, armed with a bamboo beach hat and sunglasses, at half-eight, but by then, the freshest vegetables are already stewing in someone’s pho. Yet, the tomatoes, onions, garlic, ginger, avocado, eggplant and okra I buy are some of the finest specimens I have come across.

I stop by at a friendly flan-seller’s stand. It’s not really a stand. She sits on a low stool, her glass case is in front of her, just big enough to hold twenty plastic cups of flan and icy lentil drink.

She can’t speak any English, but I love her ready smile, and she makes a mean flan-ice-coffee. First, she packs half a cup with crushed ice, carefully scoops a caramel flan into it, and tops it with a few shots of Vietnamese black iced coffee. Now, if you know anything about Vietnam, you’d know there’s a strong coffee culture here, and Vietnamese coffee is among the best in the world. That flan-ice-coffee is as good as it gets on a sweaty morning.

Back home, marinate the Basa fish fillets, sauté the veggies, and lunch is done.

There’s not much one can do in the oven that is a Saigon summer afternoon. Sit home, bask in the breeze of the air-conditioning until it’s time for school.

I’ve been here a few months, and I’m over the period where I’d be slaving away over lesson plans. I don’t usually go to school before 5 pm, and I’m out by half-ten. My evening students are teenagers – mostly friendly, mostly fun. High school students in Vietnam often have 12 hour days. Apart from school, they have extra classes, English classes, physical education classes, and even army training! I feel terrible having to teach the sleepy-heads, and the only way of getting round it is to play a ton of games and make the lesson less like one.

9.30 p.m. – It’s pack up time. A ten minute walk brings me to the backpacker district of Saigon. Pham Ngu Lao is a bustling two-block metropolis at night. The doner kebab stand looks enticing but they’ve hiked their prices twice since I’ve been here (just about four months).

Mmm.. the French pancakes beckon. For d25,000, or $1.5, that’s still steep by Saigon standards. The Sri Lankan restaurant, which opened this March and scored a spot among the most popular new restaurants in town, is closed now. This city is certainly in flux. The national bowl of pho gleams neoningly down at me from a dozen restaurants, but nah.. tonight’s a night for being adventurous, I decide.. geckos perhaps, or duck fetus.

With ice-cold beer of course, which really means, beer with ice in it, which inevitably waters the beer down, and then you’d have to order more, and more, and more…

Vietnam, however, has brought a major overhaul in the way I perceive fruits. I see sidewalk vendors sitting on low stools behind their beautiful piles of gleaming fruits and I have this urge to buy all and eat all right there. Large, firm oranges, glossy apples, giant pomelos, and the dragon of all fruits – the dragon fruit.

If there’s one thing I’ll mis about Vietnam – you can bet it’s not gonna be the traffic, or the smells, or the constant ‘hellos’ – it’s gonna be the dragon fruit.

The kind we get around here is the white flesh variety. I can’t wait to try the pink flesh dragon fruit, though I’ve heard it makes pee turn pink, and poo turn purple.. ugh.

What I love best about the dragon fruit is it’s mildly sweet flesh and the crunchiness of the tiny seeds. A whole dragon fruit for breakfast is the ideal way to start a day. It fills me up so I don’t feel the urgency to snack, and is not overly sweet. So much better than Post’s sweetened cereal that I used to obsess over back in the States. I used to particularly like Post’s Caramel flavored Honey Bunches of Oats. Used to be my regular breakfast. The sugary sweetness was so addictive, I sometimes had two bowls of cereal, one as soon as I woke up, and another halfway through to lunch.

Can’t help feeling it was a major contributor to my obscene weight gain during my two years in the States.

And now, barely 6 months into our move to Vietnam, both P and I have lost close to 15 kilos (yeah, we finally weighed ourselves.. found a pharmacy with a free weighing scale).

So here’s cheers to Vietnam and to the beautiful dragon fruit!

Here are the pictures though.. hundreds of them. Just for the sake of a memory and a date entry.

http://picasaweb.google.com/Pulkit.Vasudha/PhuQuoc

We’d heard the hydrofoil was the romantic way to head to Vung Tau, so we headed to the riverside early Thursday morning, hoping to catch the next hydrofoil.. apparently they run every hour. Well, our xe om drivers dropped us off at Greenlines Hydrofoil kiosk and we found out that one boat had just left and the next one would leave two hours from now, i.e. around 12.30. We guessed there would be other hydrofoil companies along the riverside, but the heat and humidity of Saigon does not really support adventure. We bought two tix for 12.30 and headed into downtown (along the river).

The Saigon downtown is huge.. it spans at least 2-3 square kms. There are an endless number of shops, restaurants, souvenir stores, salons and street-sellers. P and I have been to downtown several times since January, when we moved to Saigon, but we still found a few new streets to explore in the two hours we had.

In a sprawling souvenir store reminiscent of the Bombay store in Pune, but way more rustic, I found tons of colorful, wooden dragonflies. Must buy those. Must, Must. Saw some exquisite silk scarves and a dress so flowy and romantic, it took my breath away. In rich, silky hues of rust, orange, peacock blue and bottle green, the dress had an empire waistline studded with fashioned fabric roses, and simple noodle straps. To die for! Also found a really nice tee-shirt store in the market below the RockIt club.

We had an uninspiring lunch of a Pho Ga at Pho 24, and headed to Greenlines. The bullet-shaped hydrofoils were swift, and the service was good. But really, it was a little claustrophobic in there. There was no ventilation and obviously, the doors were only opened in between journeys to let passengers in and out. It was a good thing there were sickness bags, though I didn’t need them. We’d bought our tix two hours before take off, or shoot off (these boats definitely don’t sail off into a bucolic, bobbing ocean), so we got front row seats. Good for the views. As long as we were on the river, the journey was smooth, we barely felt the hydrofoil rock, but only as long as we were on the river. Once into the sea, the choppy waves left no stones unturned to let us know we were mere humans, no match for the forces unseen.

The 1.5 hour journey was swift enough, and in retrospect, I think the 180,000 dong was worth it. Yeah, the hydrofoil guys are smart. Once the price has been printed in the Lonely Planet, they hike up their prices.

We went the bus route on our way back. We ended up in a hotel right across the Vung Tau bus station, so we took a MaiLinh Mercedes 16-seater back to Saigon. And though the price is a third that of the hydrofoil (we paid 60,000 dong per person), the hourney is an hour longer, and the MaiLinh dropped us off at the Binh Thanh bus station, instead of Ben Thanh market which is where we wanted to end up. The pronunciations of Binh Thanh and Ben Thanh are ridiculously similar, wonder how the Vietnamese make themselves clear. I guess, if we had shopped around, we’d have found buses to drop us off at the Pham, but it was too hot. And we forgot to take our Lonely Planet, a blunder in itself. And it was too hot.

Too hot, too hot..

Vietnam is a country of salon services. Manicures and pedicures can cost as little as 10,000 dong (or 50 cents) each, feet cleaning costs about 60,000 dong ($3), hair cuts cost 40,000 dong ($2), and getting your nails done (which is a mani/pedi plus painting the nails with intricate designs) costs 25,000 dong ($1.25). Sure, these are your basic, hole-in-the-wall salon rates, but the services offered are at par with the $22 manicure I used to get at Rivermark Nails in Santa Clara. Mind you, all the staff was Vietnamese there too!

Now, why, in a country like this, does one need to scrimp on personal hygiene. I don’t believe there’s ever a reason to scrimp on personal hygiene, but really, in a country like Vietnam, where it’s so cheap to keep your feet fungus-free, and stink-free! I could post some pictures of disgusting feet, but I wouldn’t want you to be turned off, and I wouldn’t want to have ‘Happy Feet’ Google ads spamming my blog.

You have to consider the fact that for two years, while I was in the U.S. of A., I was quite cut off from the rest of humanity. You see, there were people, but they weren’t too close to me. Close enough for me to see, or smell, their dirty feet.

There were colleagues, in office, but I had a separate office of my own.. not just a cube, an office – a whole room to myself. There was an occasionally-occupied desk in the room, but the occasional-occupant was such eye-candy, and smelled so wonderfully of pine-nuts and Bailey’s! The rest of the colleagues had their own, separate offices. We ran into each other occasionally, but never in a space crunch, where I’d be forced to smell their feet. Or, see their feet. Even in the warm weather of California, we wore closed shoes to office. The air-conditioning on full blast in the summer never failed to remind me how cold it was gonna get in a few months.

And, before that, in India, I don’t remember any of my friends EVER, EVER taking a walk if their feet were the least bit dirty. Yes, I belong to the upper-middle class in India, a society in which women can afford and go for manicures and pedicures, thank goodness for that.

Then, why, oh-dear-god-why, do women in this country, not get pedicures when they desperately need them? It amazes me to see black sole upon black sole, blackened by the pollution and dust that envelopes Saigon, walking freely and uncaringly, clad only in flip-flops, and sometimes not even that (shame!).

I really don’t mind doing a language exchange with people who want to learn Hindi. At the very least, you could learn a few useful phrases for when you’re traveling in India, and I will not forget them.

Sad state of affairs, especially because I used to be a Hindi topper in school (if any school buddies are reading this, remember you have no right to dispute anything on this blog.. I know too many of your dark secrets. grrr..)

Both P and I have noticed a sharp decline in our usage of Hindi in the last year or so but the beast has been rearing its ugly fangs once too often in the last month. We’ve always been more comfortable conversing in english, reserving our depleting hindi vocabulary for rainy moments, i.e. when we need to communicate secretly in the presence of non-Hindi speakers. But then, you can easily get away with speedy Hinglish too.

So now we’re left groping for words, words which once came so, so naturally to us. Just last night, as we walked out of the club after a good 40 lengths or more, we were struck by the stillness of the air. The sun seemed to have sapped all the energy from everyone – the alley was quiet where there are usually kids running around, men playing cards, and pigs snorting in anticipation of imminent slaughter. An old woman was squatting – still in her conical hat – leaning her frail body against the wall – not even flashing the customary Vietnamese smile as walked past her.

Yeah, everything was still.

And I started to say something to the effect in Hindi.

sab kuch kitna sthar… sthal… ugh, kitna sthir hai.

Well, that’s still a comparatively difficult word – sthir.

‘How about I try to say, nothing’s moving at all?’ I thought to myself.

And I found myself racking my brains for the Hindi word for movement. It finally came to me.. kuch bhi hil nahi raha hai.

Perhaps it’s just because we talk in English much more now, not just with each other but with everyone else, whereas in the States, there weren’t so many others to talk to anyway. So we’d keep switching between English and Hindi, but with so many friends here, we’re bound to talk more in English all the time. It’s only when we’re alone that we banter in hindi at all, and that too, not very often.

And so I’m left wondering how I’m gonna keep my Hindi language skills intact. Any suggestions?

Akbar Ali is located at 240 Bui Vien, in the Pham Ngu Lao (backpacker) area of Ho Chi Minh City.

I have to say, Akbar Ali is our most frequented Indian restaurant in this city. Not too expensive, not too tourist-ized – and by that I mean, the food tastes authentic. There’s enough spice, and it’s not all hot, which wins a point, especially from me.

The chicken do pyaza, I must say, is my favorite dish at Akbar Ali. Chicken do pyaza is a spicy chicken curry made in yogurt, with lightly sauteed onions for texture. Every single time I’ve had this dish at Ali’s, I’m left smacking my lips and licking my fingers clean in my mouth.

The tandoori roti here is cheaper than most Indo-Pakistani restaurants in Saigon, at 14,000 dong per roti. Roti is a healthier alternative to naan, which is intensely popular among most non-Indians/Pakistanis that I know. Even at 14,000 dongs, I think breads are way more expensive than they should be, especially at $ restaurants such as Akbar Ali.

I wouldn’t really advise you to venture into the kebab section of the menu here. Despite Ali’s experience (he’s been in the restaurant business for more than 20 years), he hasn’t quite mastered the art of a melt-in-the-mouth kebab. We tried the chicken tikka here and were sorely disappointed. The meat inside was as white as the day it died (sic). With the marinade barely having kissed the outer layers, there was really no flavor to talk about.

On a vegetarian note, there are plenty of options here, and some really delicious ones too. A personal favorite is navratan korma, a healthy preparation full of colorful vegetables (always good to get a dose of vitamins) and enough spice to sate my palate. The vegetables are never too mush, which would really spoil the fun.

Another vegetarian dish, which is actually quite a difficult one to make, is Kashmiri dum aloo – a mildly spiced dish of baby potatoes cooked in a yogurt based curry. Ali adds his own twist to the dum aloo, stuffing the potatoes with crushed dry fruits and spices – not bad at all, but not really what I was looking for.

The ambience works for us because P and Ali chatter on in Bengali about life in Vietnam, but it’s not chic at all. Good value for the money though, and good food for the most part. And they deliver!

3.5 stars I’d say. (the food deserves a four, but ambiance matters too)

Shahi Quila is located at 226 Bui Vien, in the Pham Ngu Lao area of Ho Chi Minh City.

The chicken tikka kebabs were so good, they inspired (sic) me to write a review. Soft and succulent, marinated to perfection, and flavor even in the aftertaste. Not something a lot of restaurants can boast of in an area choc-a-bloc with budget restaurants with 18 page menus!

Shahi Quila, incidentally, is owned by the same guy who made Mumtaz, the other Indian/Pakistani restaurant on Bui Vien, such a fixture in guidebooks such as Lonely Planet,  Let’s Go Vietnam. Two years ago, he sold the restaurant to another guy, South Indian Christian apparently, who expanded the menu to include South Indian specialties such as Dosas and Idlis, while the quality of food did a nose-dive.

Anyway, this is not a review of the Mumtaz, which I will write soon..

We ordered a large meal – mutton biryani, raita, chicken tikka and namak parey. On the side was lassi and watermelon shake. I’ve raved about the chicken tikka kebabs already. The namak parey (flash fried, small flat pieces of dough) were excellent too. It’s important for the dough used in namak parey to have texture but be light. I hate it when namak parey leave an oily residue on my fingers, and these did not.. so 10/10 again.

When we ordered the mutton biryani, the manager warned us not to expect the same quality as great Indian or Pakistani biryani, because the rice used in good biryani is not available in Saigon. No problem, we said.. let’s give it a shot. True, the Vietnamese rice used in this biryani killed its flavor somewhat, but the mutton piece were cooked to perfection and made the whole dish a very pleasant experience.

The raita (runny yogurt with a hint of spices) was good too but diluted the flavor further. I presume the taste of raita and biryani (a traditional combination) would please a spice-sensitive palate but it wasn’t meant for us. There was a complimentary side of curry too but it really wasn’t much to talk about and is best avoided.

The day before, we’d tried the lassi at Shahi Quila. Lassi (Luss-eee) is a cool yogurt drink which can be salted or sweetened, or both, depending on your taste. If made with stale yogurt, lassi can leave a bad taste in the mouth. The lassi here was fresh, sweetened with just a hint of sourness, perfect for a hot day (which is really, everyday in Saigon) and a great way to hydrate your system.

Oh, and I was also impressed that the tables are spaced far enough that you aren’t compelled to hear the details of the conversations to your left and right.

All in all, 4 stars to Shahi Quila. (Taking the one star off for mutton biryani)

It was at the Saigon International airport that I saw the first of many sweepers in orange overalls. This is one sight that dominates my notion of Ho Chi Minh City – a city in a state of rapid flux. A city smoothening, if not shedding, its wrinkled landscape.. fattening itself on Viet Kieu money to fill out its sunken hollows.

Stepping out of the airport, there were no ‘hundreds of taxi drivers’ milling around you offering a ride (metaphorically, more than literally). Maybe it had something to do with the time of the day.. we landed at about 7.30 p.m. local time. There was a line of taxis waiting at the curb. A fellow teacher, who had been assigned to pick us up, called one of the taxis and we headed into the madness that is Saigon.

Except that the madness seemed familiar. So familiar, that it felt mundane.

Mundane madness, a term which would be applicable to anywhere in India too.

With the sun having set a while ago, headlights of a thousand bikes lit up the street ahead, to the right and left, and behind. Oh, and they lit up the pavements too, coz it’s not taboo to drive on pavements here, as long as there is no street-stall there. Ramming into a street stall or its customers (sitting on (bathroom) stools) is not okay.

Come to think of it, there are very few things that are not okay here. It’s okay to have your finger halfway up your nose in public. It’s okay to wash meat on the sidewalk, and fish, and bugs, and birds. It’s okay to leave the doors and windows of your home open so the breeze comes in (if there is any), and people outside can watch you go about your business. It’s okay to put hang a hammock virtually anywhere. It’s ok to have a fruit stall, or vegetable stall, and sit in a chair behind it and snooze. It’s ok to shout ‘halllllooooo’ to any foreigner, however old you may be. It’s ok to drink beer in the mornings, or at any other time of the day or night (it’s cheaper than water, after all).

I have to say though, that despite all of the above, the Vietnamese are really nice people. And they work really hard. Almost everyone has a little stall in a narrow alley. Whether it’s food, baby clothes, or even a pedicure, you can get it right on the streets. And cheap.. at least 5 times cheaper than if you step into an sir-conditioned establishment.

Ah, that’s where the catch is. If you can bear to sit out in 90% humidity and get tanned ten shades darker in a few minutes, sure.. go ahead, save a few bucks. But if you belong to the more fragile community of expats in Vietnam, I’d probably find you sitting in Bobby Brewers having an English breakfast of bread and eggs and fruits, or a lunch of Thai green curry with jasmine iced tea, and at Le Pub or Pacharan at night, drinking $5 beers and cocktails. Ah, that’s the life. That’s our life.

That’s all we’ve been doing since we landed here. Eat, explore, eat, explore, and more of the same….

Some photos of our culinary adventures..

Barbecued Oysters

Banh bao

Free jasmine iced tea is everywhere in HCMC

Homemade gobi sabzi.. zabardast

Kottu parotta

Noodle Soup @ Blingy place