Fellow Foodies & Travellers,
We only spent 48 hours in Saigon, but few places have made such a visceral impression or left us wanting more. For now, all we can do is revisit and squeeze a few drops more out of the memories that we have. Hence this edition of ‘revisited’.
Hope you enjoy it,
Marco & Sabrina
PS We are exploring the Cyclades islands in the Aegean for the next couple of weeks, so will be taking a break from posting until we return in early October
We’re in Saigon (nobody here but government officials calls it Ho Chi Minh City) at the tail end of the rainy season and I’m reminded of the opening line of the movie ‘Apocalypse Now’, as Captain Willard peers through his hotel room window, and curses the streetscape.
“Saigon…shit.”
It’s well over 30 degrees and raining biblically, yet this teeming city of nine million still seems to be in constant two-wheeled motion, so that picking our way through the motorised tsunami requires an act of faith and chutzpah, as it swirls and eddies around us and we are drenched from both above and below.
The physical symbols of six decades of French occupation and its smokescreen as a ‘civilising mission’, loom large in the centre of this former ‘Paris of the East’. To our surprise however, these structures appear to be a source of curiosity and pride if their immaculate upkeep and the vast numbers of enthusiastic, young Vietnamese tourists visiting showcase French Quarter sights such as Notre Dame Cathedral and the (much more, to our eyes) magnificent old Post Office with its bank of mahogany telephone booths for international calls (still in use), huge wall maps and the ever watchful portrait of ‘Uncle Ho’ himself watching over proceedings, is any guide. Certainly, we seem to be the only people spending time appreciating the Socialist Realist statuary.
We have only 48 hours here, so undaunted by the near constant downpour we buy kagoules from Ban Thanh Night market and splash our way in flip flops to a packed lean-to seafood restaurant with an extravagantly leaking plastic roof. Our sumptuous dinner includes gigantic barbecued prawns. These, or more likely the drops of polluted rainwater they are liberally sprinkled with from the leaking roof as we eat, will give me a monumental upset stomach later that night (a second reason they remain an indelible memory!)
Giant Barbecued Prawns: Serves 3
9 extra large uncooked prawns, shell on, split down the back and vein removed; 3 per person
1 tbsp fish sauce
1 tbsp sesame oil
1 tbsp dry sherry
1 fresh red birdseye chilli, finely chopped
2 tsp finely grated fresh ginger
2 tbsp chopped fresh coriander
3 garlic clove, finely chopped
For the dipping sauce:
1/2 cup sweet chilli sauce
2 tbsp fresh lime juice or to taste
fish sauce to taste
2 tbsp finely chopped fresh coriander
2 tbsp finely chopped fresh Thai basil
Combine the prawns, fish sauce, sherry, chilli, ginger, garlic, fresh coriander and sesame oil in a large bowl. Cover and place in fridge for 1 hour.
Meanwhile, to make the dipping sauce, stir in the lime juice, fish sauce, coriander and basil to the sweet chilli sauce. Transfer to small serving bowls.
Pre-heat a barbecue or chargrill on high. Add the prawns and cook for 2 minutes each side or until they change colour. Transfer to a large serving bowl and serve immediately with the dipping sauce.
It’s way too early to go back to our hotel in the French Quarter, so we flag down a tuk tuk which drops us at the Hotel Continental where Graham Greene wrote ‘The Quiet American’ in 1955. Satisfyingly, for fans of the author like us, the hotel seems to be frozen permanently in that era and we enjoy Singapore Slings on the (properly covered) pavement side terrace with the Opera House and neon streetscape beautifully lit up across the square from our table.
Next morning I nurse my delicate stomach with a hearty bowl of Phở and our guide takes us upriver by speedboat under lowering black clouds and squalls of rain. As it’s a longish trip, we ask him to tell us his family and country’s story through a Saigon lens, from the French occupation up to the final American withdrawal in 1975. It’s a tragic tale of suspicion, betrayal and unimaginable cruelty that he continues over lunch on Binh Quoc island, which unaccountably for a weekday is packed with joyful pre-wedding couples on their photo shoots. Mercifully oblivious of the weight of their country’s recent past, their smiles remind us of the happy figures depicted on propaganda billboards all over town which are often situated, without a shred of irony, on hoardings advertising luxury condo developments.
Returning downriver after visiting the Cu Chi tunnels and the shattered relics of US military might, a monument to the Viet Cong’s bravery and ingenuity, our guide concludes his sad story as a suddenly appeared late afternoon sun glints on the Saigon river and lights up the water hyacinths that choke the waterways in tangled masses, an iridescent green. A brief interlude that hints at what might have been, had we visited in the drier months.
Tomorrow morning we embark from My Tho on the Mekong Delta on a slow boat up the Mekong through Tonlé Sap, the inland sea which is usually only navigable at the height of the wet season. With the risk of grounding the vessel ever-present at this time of year, we know we’re rolling the dice wishing for sunny skies.
I'm also a huge Graham Greene fan! For reasons I can't fully fathom myself, re-reading his novels and short stories was a great source of comfort during the 2020 pandemic lockdown.
"The Quiet American" was great; it's astounding that it was written almost a decade before the ttagic US (and Australian 😲) miltary intervention in Vietnam/Laos/Cambodia really heated up...The movie version was pretty decent as well.
Riding a scooter in Saigon is one of the scariest and most thrilling experiences! 😆