Chinatown Market

Today we started exploring Saigon in earnest.  First, we learned that Ho Chi Minh City and Saigon are one-in-the-same, and you can call it either.  I will opt for Saigon most of the time because it is shorter and easier to spell.

Then we learned that Ho Chi Minh was the first president of the Republic of Vietnam (think George Washington) and he’s the guy on all the money, not Confucius.

So we met our guide promptly at 8:30 as agreed.  You’ve already seen the breakfast pictures, so we won’t go through that again other than to note that it was very good.  That is something of a double-edged sword given what was coming up.

We rode to China Town and went to a wholesale market.  Think the Flea Market, but with much, much smaller stalls and a greater variety of items.  Plus everything you buy there is 30% off retail, but you have to buy in lots of 10.  Most of the time, merchants just come through and order and then the goods are delivered (at least for most items).  At least that’s the theory, although our guide stocked up on some individual items for the upcoming holiday!

There are multiple levels, and the building has obviously been there for a while.  Most of the stalls are tiny, too – not much bigger than a good sized walk-in closet.  It’s also everything from A to Z – hats, caps, clothes, paper items – paper clothes, fake money, paper houses, incense – all used in the Taoist ancestor worship.  You burn them so that your ancestors can use them in the afterlife.

So you probably ought to make certain that you treat your kids right, lest you end up living in a crappy house and wearing unflattering clothing in the hereafter!

Several things hit us as odd about the whole setup.

You could smoke, and many people availed themselves of that ability.  In a building with no apparent sprinkler system, poorly lit and with many exits blocked, lots of people were just lighting up.

Lots of the businesses appeared to be “family owned”, with a plethora of bored 20-somethings being ordered around by their mom or dad.  Just guessing on some of it, since we didn’t understand the language, but some things need no translation.

On the lower level was the “food court”, and lots of people running stalls would call down, place an order and the waitstaff would then run the food upstairs.  Refrigeration seemed to be a rarity, and pungent smells were not in short supply.  We were not tempted to nibble a single thing we saw or smelled (which is saying a lot), and were not unhappy to get a bit of fresh air eventually.

There were vendors of meat and fish on the lower levels.  Many had their dogs in the booth with them.  We love our dogs.  We do not necessarily want them to have the option to taste-test our food before we get to it.

Some of the fish were still alive.  Some were dried and in baskets.  They looked like they’d been in those baskets for quite some time, and who needs refrigeration, anyhow.