 |
| 20th Dec 2025 |
December 20, 2025
The morning began with high hopes and a traditional dress. After breakfast at the hotel, I met Phung, my local guide for the day. We were set to tour the city's icons while I wore the Ao Dai, Vietnam’s elegant but unforgiving national dress.
From our initial texts, Phung seemed like a seasoned professional. In person, however, the reality was different. She was a student doing a part-time gig, sweet but inexperienced. Whether it was my bad luck in picking a Saturday or just her lack of skill, the tour felt like a struggle against the city itself.
Saigon was boiling. The Ao Dai, usually a symbol of grace, felt like a layer of trapped heat as we navigated the crowds. And the crowds were relentless.
- The Pink Church (Tan Dinh): Packed.
- The Independence Palace: A sea of people.
- The Central Post Office: Shouldor-to-shoulder tourists.
- Notre Dame Cathedral: Still shrouded in renovation scaffolding.
We skipped Ben Thanh Market—I didn’t have the energy to fight more crowds—and headed to the Apartment Cafe instead.
The photos were the biggest letdown. Phung didn't quite have the photographer's eye I had hoped for. Most of the shots were unflattering angles or blurry messes that went straight to my "Recently Deleted" folder. It was frustrating, but looking at her—young, trying her best to earn money while studying—my annoyance softened into empathy. I channeled my "older sister" energy. I tipped her for her time, and before we parted ways at the Apartment Cafe, I treated us to drinks. I had yet another Salted Coffee (my new addiction), while Phung, unable to handle the caffeine, opted for tea.
Scents and Regrets
Alone again, I wandered the spiraling floors of the Apartment Cafe (42 Nguyen Hue). It was here, away from the heat and the crowds, that I found a small stall selling fragrances.
I fell in love with a scent called Na Nue Rose. It was delicate and distinct. I bought a 100ml bottle, but as I walked away, a pang of regret hit me—I should have bought the big bottle. That scent is going to be the memory of this trip, and 100ml won't last forever. I definitely have to come back for it.
My shopping dilemma continued at Saigon Centre. I headed to Uniqlo, knowing it's often cheaper here than back home since so many of their products are "Made in Vietnam." I stood in front of the mirror, torn between a practical pair of black pants and a stylish mustard jacket.
Practicality won. I bought the pants.
Almost immediately, regret won. I should have taken the jacket.
The Quiet Evening
I stopped by the Liberty Central Saigon Centre to snap a photo of the building, then found a spot for a late lunch. I ordered Canh Chua Cá (Fish Tomato Soup) and more spring rolls (shrimp and pork this time). The sour, savory soup was exactly what I needed to wash away the dust of the day.
The evening was about logistics. I walked to the bus station to scout my route for tomorrow, snapping pictures of the streets as the sun went down. The chaotic energy of the day faded into a rhythmic hum.
Back at the hotel, reality called in the form of laundry. 60,000 VND for a wash and dry—a small price for fresh clothes. I ate dinner at the hotel restaurant, taking advantage of a 15% discount. More spring rolls? Why not.
I went to sleep early. The Ao Dai was back in the suitcase, the photos were deleted, but the scent of Na Nue Rose lingered on my wrist. Tomorrow is a new departure.
A Moment of Reflection
Today was a lesson in managing expectations versus reality. The perfect Instagram photos in the Ao Dai didn't happen, and the tour was chaotic. Yet, the highlight wasn't a landmark; it was choosing kindness over frustration with my young guide. Being an "older sister" felt better than being a demanding tourist. The regrets over the small perfume and the mustard jacket are nagging, but they teach me a simple truth about travel and life: when you find something that truly sparks joy, don't hesitate. Buy the bigger bottle. Take the jacket. Don't let practicality steal your joy. And finally, doing laundry in a foreign hotel room is a grounding reminder that even in exotic places, the mundane necessities of life continue—and there's comfort in that routine.
No comments:
Post a Comment