Vietnam Vignettes: Ho Chi Minh Night Market — Were we dreaming?

When we arrived at the exact place we had been the night before, we expected to find a bustling night market. But instead it was an ordinary street. Both of us wondered if we had mistakenly come to the wrong place. We were really disappointed because we had planned to have dinner at the very busy outdoor seafood barbeque restaurant that we thought would be right where we were standing. We decided to take a walk around the block to be sure we had not simply missed it on another street. The time was about 6:30 and the sun was just setting.

By the time we had walked a couple blocks, we noticed a long procession of folded tents on wheels being pushed towards the middle of the street from all directions. We then realized that we were not dreaming. This was the place all right. We were just about half an hour early. Miraculously, within what seemed like minutes, the dark quiet street transformed into a busy night market. Tents unfolded and tables were set up, barbeques were lit, strings of lights turned on, tonnes of merchandise was organized on tables, and fresh fish and seafood were beautifully displayed in showcases. We walked to the restaurant we had seen the other night and found it ready to serve us dinner as if it had always been there. We sat down at an empty table and contemplated what to order.

Although we had been traveling in South East Asia for two months by this time, we were still overwhelmed by the food choices. We sat there looking at the menu for what seemed to be hours. We knew we wanted fish, but what kind? And what should we choose to go with it that would be typically Vietnamese? Marc noticed the couple at the table next to us seemed to have a handle on the situation. The man was western, but his wife was Vietnamese. They were eating fish and a wonderful side dish. Marc decided to take control (very unlike him, but he was starving and I was not being very helpful!), and went over to ask them what they had ordered. He came back with a smile on his face and told our waiter that the woman at the next table was going to order for us! “What are we having?” I asked. “I’m not sure” Marc replied, “But the guy” he continued, “told me that the food here is outstanding and they have eaten here every night this week”. That was good enough for both of us.

She came by and in a very animated Vietnamese, ordered us one of the most amazing dinners we have ever had. Shortly thereafter a large plate with a beautifully cooked fish (I still don’t know what kind) decorated with mint arrived. And with it a plate of rice wrappers, thinly sliced vegetables and fruit, rice noodles, bean sprouts and a variety of freshly cut herbs and greens, with dipping sauce on the side. We were looking a bit confused, so the waiter came by and showed us how to put it all together. You take the rice wrapper in your hand and put a few pieces of all of the ingredients from the vegetable plate into the middle of it. Then you add a few pieces of the steaming hot fish with mint to the mixture and roll it up. You then dip this roll into the dipping sauce and the rice wrapper miraculously softens around the mixture of heavenly ingredients. The taste sensation when biting into this roll is out of this world.

We spent the next hour enjoying our meal while watching the market, and our restaurant fill up with locals and tourists. The greatest part about the best of Vietnamese food is in the simplicity of it. Fresh fish, fresh vegetables and fruit, noodles and greens, delicately combined with savory and spicy sauces. Heavenly.

With our bellies full, feeling great about our meal and the whole experience, we walked back through the market before finding our way back to our hotel.

Vietnam Vignettes: Second day of Passover in Ho Chi Minh

We arrived in Ho Chi Minh City late on the first night of Passover after our own version of 40 days and forty nights on buses, minibuses and taxis from Cambodia to Vietnam (you can read about the epic journey here). In any big city in the world, it is usually possible to find a Chabad House. We could have made arrangements to find a seder to attend but we opted instead to begin our tour of the city. We visited the War Remnants Museum and booked a tour to the famous Cu Chi Tunnels where the Viet Cong ran their military operations during the Vietnam War.

At the specified time the next morning we arrived at the tour office to pick up our promised air-conditioned bus. There we watched air-conditioned bus after air-conditioned bus come and go, until a young man gathered a small group of us together and took us for a long walk down the street and around the block, across traffic several times, continuing to pass air-conditioned bus after air-conditioned bus until he arrived in front of an already crowded HOT minibus (we have given up thinking we would ever be on an air-conditioned bus …). We were instructed to board and find seats. The bus was already so crowded that Marc and I could not sit together. Having found seats as close together as we could, we waited for the bus to start moving.

Behind us, near the back of the bus we heard three young Israelis discussing their plans. Two of them were sitting, each with an empty seat beside them. “Hmmm”, I thought to myself, “I’m sure if we ask them nicely in Hebrew, one of them would surely move so that Marc and I could sit together for the three hour journey to the first stop on the full day tour”. I then sent the message telepathically to Marc (who was sitting closer to them), with a nod in the direction of the back of the bus. When the bus stopped to pick up yet another group of people, Marc turned politely to the boys and in Hebrew asked them if they minded switching seats.

With those few words, the day was transformed. We were now five Israelis at the back of the bus!!

It ended up that the three young men had met the night before at the Chabad organized Passover Seder. All three had recently arrived in Ho Chi Minh City and were missing home and their family Passover meal. We were soon in a very animated conversation about their Passover experience, all of our plans, and all of the experiences we had all had in Southeast Asia. We spent the rest of the day with these young men visiting the Cao Dai temple, as well as the Cu Chi tunnels.

All three of them spoke perfect English so we drifted from English to Hebrew all day. Two Spanish girls sat in the back of the bus with us and were intrigued that we spoke Hebrew. They soon joined the conversation and we literally had a party going at the back of the bus.

I could tell you about the tunnels and the booby traps and the tricky way the Viet Cong wore their sandals to confuse the enemy. But those details would not be the most memorable aspects of that day. What we will remember is the experience we had with these three young men, all on their “after the army” trip before settling down to the adult portion of their lives in Israel. Each one was more interesting than the next. Each was so confident and intelligent and hopeful for a peaceful future. It seemed somehow so appropriate that while all around the world Jewish families were sitting down to retell the historic story of our people’s exodus from Egypt and freedom from slavery; we were talking about a brighter future with these twenty something young men, who were so full of optimism and positive energy. It was truly an inspiring day.

Spontaneously, when we returned to the city, we decided to ask the bus driver to let us off the tour bus on the corner of the street where a night market was just setting up. It was one of those things where we made a last minute decision and had little time for proper farewells. We wished each of the boys and the two Spanish girls safe travels and when we looked back, the bus had vanished and with it our new friends. We didn’t even know their names. It was a moment in time that we shared — the kind of moment that happens when you are traveling. We missed them immediately and hoped our paths would cross again. Luckily, as is so often the case when traveling, we did meet again, just a few days later, in Dalat when we bumped into two of the three Israelis, now traveling with one of the Spanish girls!

Reunited again, we ended up having dinner together that night at an outdoor market in downtown Dalat. Eventually we got around to our years living in Israel and life on kibbutz. While eating hot soup and drinking cold beer, we talked about democracy and socialism and kibbutz principles that drove the decisions during our Saturday evening kibbutz meetings. The young Spanish woman learned a lot about Israel and kibbutz life that night and it was an education for the young Israelis as well. They had been born in a different time in Israel. Much of what we had experienced had changed dramatically by the time they were old enough to know what a kibbutz was. The discussion was lively and interesting and time passed quickly. Before we knew it, all the eateries were closing down around us.

The town was completely dark when we finally walked back to our respective accommodations that night. It was almost midnight. As they rang the bell at the entrance to their guesthouse, we all took turns embracing each other tightly and wishing each other well. “Until we meet again!” we all said to each other as we turned towards our hotel and the door to their guesthouse closed behind them.

Only then did I realize that we still did not know any of their names! The Spanish woman was on her way to Nha Tran, and the boys were taking a three-day easy rider trip (a tour on the back of a motorcycle) with a licensed guide, and we were flying to Danang, so the likelihood of us meeting up again was highly unlikely. And I had nothing — no email addresses — not even a photo of them!

What to do?

The only sensible option, to keep this memory alive was to document our time together on these pages. When I reread this post, I am hoping it will bring the experience back to life. I want to remember their kindness towards us, and their eyes so full of excitement about discovering the world and expanding their horizons. And I want to remember their optimism and openness to the people and countries they were visiting. Traveling is not simply about the places and the monuments you visit. It is also about the people you meet and the conversations you have with them over a bowl of soup. Our two encounters with these nameless young men (and their new Spanish companion!) gave us new energy to face the next weeks of travel. As we had predicted, our paths did not cross again, but our time together will not be forgotten.