We entered Saigon by bus from Phnom Penh. With me still ill from Cambodia, we didn't see much of Saigon other than the alley across from the hotel when I was able to go down for meals. That alley was really something, though. It was about 30 feet across, lined on both sides with motorcycles parked nose in, cafe tables, and all kinds of vendors pushing carts or carrying poles with baskets filled high with produce. Between all of this ran motorcycles, cyclos, booksellers old and young carrying plastic-wrapped stacks about as tall as they were, monks, and Vietnam vets~alone, with their Vietnamese wives, or with young Vietnamese women. My favorite character from that street was a female Buddhist monk who looked to be somewhere between 55 and 80, short, bald, saffron-robed, snaggle-toothed, beaming blissfully about her as she held her metal alms bowl in front of her, and gracefully walking kirtan (slow walking meditation) barefoot on the hot black asphalt.
Eric had his adventures in Saigon too. When he would go down to eat or bring me something, he was offered different services based on what he wore. T-shirt, grass. Collared shirt, "massage."
We had originally planned to take the 18-hour train to Danang Vietnam, then taxi to Hoi An, but switched to a two-hour Danang flight so I'd be more comfortable (sick, delicate flower that I was). We awoke at 3 a.m. and were down in the lobby by 4:15. Much of Saigon was already awake or hadn't slept, with kids playing soccer in the busy street and the cafe table across the alley full of young women and Vietnam vets discussing politics old and new, with drunken fervor.
On to Hoi An!
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