Day 7. Vietnam Diary – Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon

Yuzu ice cream, charcoal matcha croissant, dinner trolley on the train

Day 7. Friday 24 May 2024

I finally finished Really Good, Actually. The character became a much more pleasant and relatable person but I never felt a consistency with her, though I know it’s a book about her bad year in the aftermath of breaking up with her husband. I could never work out what she looked like, or the other characters. It’s now positioned next to the TV, left for someone else to read.

I stayed in a hotel in Guernsey once and had brought a copy of 50 Shades of Grey, which I feel a need to add came from a book exchange phone box in Lewisham, London, ie I didn’t pay for it. I was curious. I’m sure that’s what most people said about that book though. Anyway, it was so badly written and so horribly – oh, I don’t know, too much playing to hideously outdated gender stereotypes. I finished the book and – a first for me – threw it in the bin. It didn’t feel worthy of passing on. When I got back to my room, the bin had been emptied but the book had been placed on a table. The next day, I put it back in the bin. It was on the table again. On day three, I wrote a note explaining why and that it was intended for the bin. I didn’t see my copy of the book again.

Incidentally, I threw a second book into the recycling at home recently. I’d bought a random Danielle Steel novel, thinking that someone who had written approximately 190 books, of which more than 145 are novels (I have no interest in finding out what non-novels she’s written).

[Typing this up, I have just Googled Danielle Steel non-fiction. Without digging deeper, I still don’t know what her non-fiction books are about, but I do now know she has also written children’s fiction books. Good for her, she’s an incredible writing and publishing machine but …]

Danielle Steel has sold more than 900 million books. Incredible. The one I read was, as I said, chosen at random from a charity shop and it was the shortest story of the choices available (it’s probably always a bad sign when there are a lot of books by one author in a charity shop; they’re not keepers). The one I had the misfortune to pick was called Special Delivery. I’ll give it a minor concession, having been published in the far less woke 1997, but that doesn’t excuse the basic, inarticulate writing. I’ll summarise. Rich, stunningly beautiful woman, aged 50/51, “still” beautiful, was married to an arsehole but was devoted to him. She sounded like Princess Grace of Monaco, Amanda also having been a successful actress before getting married. Her vile husband died, she was devastated, didn’t want another man. She had two daughters, one of whom was married to the son of a man, Jack, a few years older than her, who would be called a total slut were he a woman, but was instead a sexy, hot catch. Obviously extremely handsome. Amanda had never liked him. Do you see where this is going?! He thought she was snooty. So obviously they met, as you’d expect for in-laws. Then they started to get on. Oh, his love-of-his-life wife had died so he and Amanda could relate to each other. She was of course surprised by his sensitive side blah, blah. Then he’d had a bad divorce from his next wife, lots of girlfriends, blah, blah, serial shagger. Amanda had only ever had sex with her controlling husband. Her daughter and his son – I reiterate, their daughter/son, ie in-laws – weren’t able to have children, but were trying. I know, it’s worrying where this phase of the story is heading. So their children were stressed and tests showed there were no obvious reasons they couldn’t have a baby. Spoilers about to come thick and fast. Amanda assumed at 50 she wouldn’t get pregnant. Seriously, she wasn’t menopausal; did she really not know she could still get pregnant? Anyway, she was wooed by Jack. He stopped dating/shagging pretty young things and they started a relationship. Awks, their kids are married to each other. Then Amanda keeps being sick – seriously. Anyway, Amanda and Jack finally realise what the reader has long known, that Amanda doesn’t have cancer but is – shock – pregnant. They break up because he wants her to have an abortion, she doesn’t. Then – guess what – they decide to offer their unborn child to their son/daughter for adoption. The young couple accept, then get so excited that she stops being stressed. Meanwhile, Jack realises he’s a dick, gets back with Amanda and they get excited about being grandparents to, er, their child. Then their kids announce that Amanda’s daughter is pregnant and they don’t want to adopt their half-sibling/sibling-in-law. Jack and Amanda are now thrilled to be expecting a baby together. And they all live happily ever after FFS.

So that was a major tangent.

I’m in yet another hip coffee shop, Hummingbird Cafe. I ordered a filter coffee with Vietnamese beans. I thought it’d be nice to have a non-sweet start to the day. But then I buckled and purchased an Earl Grey tea cake with yuzu ice cream. I absolutely love yuzu. And Earl Grey cake. The cake was 65k vnd, so about £2, expensive for here, and the coffee was 75k vnd. Oh my, sublime. Lovely soft cake but I was very distracted by the yuzu flavour, which was amazing.

The coffee was also good, though not a favourite. One of the baristas made an Ethiopian filter coffee and gave a cup of it to me and someone else who’d also ordered a pour-over. I liked the Vietnamese beans more. [Typing this up, that sounds a bit poncy and is a reminder how pretentious I can get when talking about coffee and food, but honestly it’s just enthusiasm?!]

It’s 09:15. My plan is to go to a French bakery, Mille Mille, and buy a croissant. This shop appears not to sell bog standard croissants [lawks, more poncy pretentions upcoming!!!]. I will then likely go back to the hotel for a rest. I’d thought about going to another temple but I’m not sure I want a busy-streets kind of morning to see a small green buddha. Check-out is 12:00 and I’d like a pre-24-hour-train-journey shower.

I have moved on to a fairly annoying pastry experience at Mille Mille. It’s full of painfully hip young things and I feel like I’m on an Instagram set. I got overwhelmed by the pastry selection. I would have had a yuzu croissant but it looks like there was soft meringue on top and I suspect it would have been very sweet. I have opted for a charcoal matcha croissant, which might just end up like a big burnt croissant.

Ah, my order has arrived. It took ages for a take-away. I was given a number so thought I’d have to eat in.

I am now in a sixth-floor café near my hotel. The views are amazing. I did go to the green buddha temple, Chùa Vĩnh Nghiêm. I’m so glad I did, it was a calming place. The 2586^th birthday of Buddha celebration displays were still up, including neat stacks of Sprite, ChocoPies and Majestic biscuits. For some reason, I love saying “ChocoPies”. Anyway. There was a welcoming, warm feel to the whole temple area and I enjoyed seeing so many lotus flowers. I’d read there were vegetarian restaurants there, but more than I expected. I would have happily eaten there were I not between meals. I’d say it were worth visiting, though I didn’t stay long at any of the temples I visited, maybe in part because it was so hot. It wasn’t just the green buddha which makes it worth a visit. Google Maps refers to it as an “expansive temple in a classic pagoda”, Chùa Vĩnh Nghiêm. [Cringe, I would like to think I’d have edited this paragraph were I not aiming for “authentic” diary. Exemplary for how not to write a travel diary/blog. I hope I’m not this uninspiring when I talk about places!! I think I was going for a bit of guidebook usefulness. But still, cringe]

I was ludicrously pleased to spot a load of orange and brown monk robes hanging on a washing line.

The walk from Mille Mille had been on the cusp of too far in the heat. The temple wasn’t air conditioned but the shade and fans helped. I caught another Grab scooter back. I’ve not paid more than 21k vnd for the scooter rides. 65ish pence is so low, especially as my last iced coffee cost 50k vnd.

I’m in Tiem Luu Coffee now, on the sixth floor, facing the spire of the pink church. I had wanted a hot coffee but only iced phin coffee was possible. I think hot coffee is a morning thing. However, the iced coffee was suitably cooling. I just wish it were a longer drink. I tried going to Sipply Coffee for coffee but they only did Vietnamese coffee using an espresso machine, which didn’t really make sense to me.

This café is more bohemian than hip. There’s an impossibly cool, dreadlocked, tattooed French woman here, with a fairly ordinary-looking probable-boyfriend.

I’ve been to the backpacker (AKA beer) street here (near my first accommodation), Bùi Viện street. However, there don’t seem to be as many backpackers these days, in the conventional, heavily budget way. Maybe I just don’t spend time in those areas and avoid staying there. It’s still cheap here but somehow things seem too easy and expensive for proper backpacker types.

Instagram travel is the new backpacker travel. There’s a photo shoot going on now. I fear I may be a blot on their Instagram backdrop of views and floaty curtains. I think one of the women is the Instagrammer, the other more likely her photographer than friend, but, hey, what do I know?

My banh xeo lunch didn’t go to plan as I thought it was by the market rather than my road (ish). I went to where I thought it was and ended up having excellent prawn noodle soup. It cost 75k vnd.

Actually, I’m going to return to my favourite café, Grandmum, to see if I can get a hot coffee.

---

It’s 17:13 and I’ve been on this 23-ish-hour train ride between Sài Gòn and Huế since 15:00. I’ve already tried out the loo. It’s as wet as I expected towards the end of the journey. I’m glad I didn’t succumb to a refreshing cup of fresh (laxative) coconut water. I booked this seat on 15 May from the UK, carriage 2, seat 64. I went to carriage 2 but the seating only went up to about 54. I was told to go to carriage 10, the last but one carriage. The air conditioning was on in carriage 2, there were fairly wide seats and adjustable leg rests. Coach 10 appears to be an add-on. Narrow seats, no functioning air conditioning, no leg rests. Most unsatisfactory. I was overheating before we even set off. It’s 36°C today, with, as usual, a 40-something feels-like temperature. Fortunately, the guard moved those of us who looked hot to the other end of the carriage where someone was repairing an ancient air conditioning unit. I had been sitting next to a petite young woman who was wearing a hoodie over a t-shirt. I had the window seat and felt trapped. I’m now forward-facing, the air conditioning miraculously works enough that I’m merely “a bit too hot” and no one is yet next to me.

I’m enjoying the changing scenery. We went through a loud and flashy thunderstorm. Now it’s sunny and the pre-sunset-hour of sun is beautiful. A young man holding a small boy was by the train, both waving every now and then. The boy was wearing a Spiderman top. I love this kind of train travel, ie slow, somewhere new and thus exciting, and alongside local roads and homes and business and through rice fields, fruit trees and with lush greenery and rich, dark brown-red earth.

[Little did I appreciate that that degree of enthusiasm for the train journey would diminish as much as it did as the hours rolled by …]

I would love to stop at a non-tourist train station and hire a scooter or small, knackered old car and stay in a rural village.

Over the years, I’ve far too often wondered what superpower I’d like. I’ve quite often thought a morph superpower would be my first choice, and right now, yes please. It would mean I could look and speak Vietnamese so I could blend in.

[When I got back to Scotland, I had a conversation with my friend Sue about the morph superpower for being in Vietnam. We had an interesting chat about superpowers. She asked what my actual superpower was. It’s such an interesting question. Think about it. What are you good at? I felt embarrassed saying anything but ended up giving her a roundabout answer, which I illustrated by telling her about a photo I took of a doughnut seller in Hanoi. I gave Sue a much more gabbled answer but I think my actual superpower is often being able to connect with people when I make the effort. My default, I am very much aware, is to come across as po-faced and unapproachable (is it bad that I blame that on my Latvian half and being painfully shy for the first 23-odd years of my life?). I have travelled in India and Japan with my friend Kyla. She emailed me in Vietnam and asked if I’d been talking to locals and taking photos of them. For a few years, I took portraits of people I met while abroad, always with permission and almost always having asked for their name and having chatted with them, eg about what I was buying from them. At that stage of my Vietnam trip, I hadn’t taken any photos of people. The photo to demonstrate my superpower – I do feel uncomfortable saying that – of connecting with people is of the doughnut lady I chatted to and had a laugh with, despite her barely speaking English and my not speaking Vietnamese. This photo is where we were both laughing as she tried to get me to be in a selfie with her, and I did take a selfie of us both but this one of her laughing is a photo that makes me feel happy because by making the effort to engage with her and connect with her gave me a moment of joy and pure happiness.]

What is it about trains, travelling in general, that makes me so food-receptive. A trio of maybe-French people have a very impressive snack bag. Snack envy. A snack cart, a blubbery-looking dessert cart, an instant pot noodle cart and a drinks cart have passed by. I’m not sure what will happen at dinner time. Will we stop somewhere long enough to get out for a meal? Is there a buffet car? I didn’t notice one on the walk between carriages 2 and 10. Will there be a dinner trolley? I have a packet of French Fries, those snacky chip-crisps from the UK, a pack of dried mango, a pack of dried banana, water and the expensive croissant that now resembles blackened road kill. Fuck it, I’m going to have the crisps.

Salty snacks, yum. Sun is getting low. It’s a shame so much of this journey is at night time.

The maybe-French trio are more likely Dutch, but I think possibly Afrikaans-speaking South African. I’ve never been good at identifying languages.

As well as getting hungry on trains, I also get very sleepy. I have low expectations. I chose a seat rather than a “bed” because I’ve never been able to sleep on train bed and, on these trains they don’t fold up so you can only sit or lie on your bed. Also, apparently people get on and off throughout the night, it’s noisy and wobbly. It was actually the not-having-a-seat-other-than-a-glorified-shelf element that led me to the seats … the seats with foot rests. Which I don’t have.

I have no idea how I’ll know when we get to Huế, though it’s premature to be concerned about that. I think our guard announces station names but he could be saying anything. Being in the rear carriages, station signs haven’t yet been visible before or while the train has stopped. I could very easily be wrong but I think Đà Nẵng is the stop before, approximately 2 hours 40 minutes before Huế. That’s based on the timetable above me which doesn’t include my SE6 train.

The guard just asked the trio where they’re from. They are indeed Dutch.

I came here with a 65-litre rucksack weighing 10kg. For me, that is extraordinarily light for 18 nights away. I have no real shopping plans, though with the train and bus and moving around prior to Hà Nội, I wouldn’t have bought much in Sài Gòn anyway. I’d like to buy a phin coffee maker. I bought a 250g bag of the beans selected for me at the experience café, Ca Phe X, from yesterday. The thing I’d really like is a bamboo lampshade. I love them and I know exactly where I’d like it at home. Hmm, large, non-collapsible lampshade on a plane …

I feel both smug and pleased with my decision to wear socks and shoes (incidentally, waterproof shoes) for this journey. Socks mean I don’t have bare feet for resting on two seats. Shoes are good because it’s dirty and the loo floor is wet. Very wet. Water and wee. Ugh.

Why am I so hungry? Why didn’t I bring more food and drink? Hey up, dinner trolley …