Gonna Miss Saigon (HCMC)

Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC for short) still known as Saigon to its inhabitants, and Oh Cheese Minge or Itchy Minge to giggling schoolboys, is Vietnam's centre of commerce and the country's biggest city by far. Looking around you can see that things must have moved on alot since 1986 and the sweeping economic changes than came with doi moi (the Vietnamese version of perestroika). Saigon has been re-inventing itself in the image of the traditional Southeast Asian capitalist powerhouses of Kuala Lumpa, Bangkok and Singapore. The French-built foundations of the city now support a dynamic Asian economy.

The lucky locals now sport designer clothes, shop at fancy boutiques and drive around in Lexuses (Lexi?) but, sadly, we were made much more aware of the unlucky ones that haven't benefited so much from the economic progress. A constant stream of grubby street children and women in traditional conical reed hats trawl the tourist spots hawking dodgy photocopied books, postcards, lottery tickets (that you couldn't actually win if you did play) and all manner of tat, insistent sun glass salesmen don't take no for an answer, cripples haul themselves about cap in hand and watchful pickpockets prowl for unguarded wallets or stalk the pavements on mopeds looking to grab peoples handbags. Its depressing how many questions this hassle asks you about yourself, and what the right attitude or response to it should be. Its easy to do more harm than good trying to do the right thing. Ultimately there is no correct answer, and I should just be thankful that I'm on my side of the fence not theirs. One thing I did learn was that a Jimmy Saville wrist twist jiggle goes a long way, because it means 'no' over here. Much more fun than a head shake and sorry face, too.

Few corners of the city provide shelter from the din of construction workers, chucking up new office blocks and hotels inside bamboo scaffold shells, or the teeming organic mass of scooters that choke the tree-lined streets and boulevards and cloak it in a blue haze of smog. In the shadow of this melee people go about their daily life; old women are ferried around by old men on polished aluminium cyclos past street side baguette-sellers and noodle stands, women ride Honda 125's clad in gangster-style bandannas and shoulder-length gloves to protect their skin from the sun, teenagers strut dressed like boy band members with mobile phones glued to their ears, men play group hacky-sack in the parks and the occasional Buddhist monks walks serenely from place to place in search of alms (if you've got up early that is).

Saigon has the typical organised chaos of all big SE Asian cities, and it was great to be part of it. It was a simple pleasure just wandering around absorbing the flurry of activity or sat in the safety of a pavement café, sweating a little bit less, watching the world go by with a glass of strong and sweet ice coffee.

There's plenty of Uncle Ho(Chi Minh portraits) and kitsch soviet memorabilia

and bowls of pho to enjoy

Nicky - Pre pho bo trump

Nicky - Post pho bo trump

The food is amazing, and super cheap. You can pick up a great bowl of noodle soup for as little as 30p. The coffee shacks are good too. After the crap overpriced food in Cambodia it was a real treat getting to eat good food at good prices alongside the locals. The western food was surprisingly good for once too.

There's weird instructive posters up all over the place with themes ranging from safe sex to wearing a helmet on your bike (same same but different).

Any ideas on what the two below mean?

The cyclo drivers aren't shy of a hard days work. Assuming a hard days work is kipping, pestering you for business "hey you, where you go?!", trying to sell you marijuana or take you to a massage parlour. The fine restaurants, flash hotels, (s)wanky bars and clubs, and shops selling imported luxury goods that have come as part of the economic revival add a glossy veneer to the city's varied landscape of crumbling French colonial might, venerated old pagodas and austere Soviet-era modern architecture. Apparently the city's architecture is called "tropical Baroque" not a bad description for the once-grand but now weather-beaten rain stained buildings.

I loved that there were plenty of old Vespas and Lambrettas for me to geekily goggle at too,

and crazy sights like dogs in cages on bikes.

An ex-pat told us there are 10million people and 7 million scooters. They don't walk anywhere, just jump on their 'peds. There's no highway, no driving license and pavements seem to be included in the remit of where you are allowed to ride your bike.

Consequently crossing the road is an extreme sport

Below is an unimpressed Nicky at the tourist mecca of the War Remnants museum. One of the most disturbing places we've visited. It was frightening being clearly shown the human and environmental casualties, and horror of war. It made it all the more shocking knowing that America, with our backing, are doing it all over again in Iraq and Afghanistan. It seemed strange that it was such a big tourist attraction too, and that there were so many people (including children) looking at the scenes of death and destruction essentially as a form of entertainment.

On a lighter note, we treated ourselves to a swish place with A/C, a minibar and cable TV, after some crazy bartering from $35 to $15 dollars a night. Nicky was very happy to have her 1st bath in 11 months