Flying toward Vietnam for the first time over the South China Sea evoked images of a tropical land that had risen from the tumult of war four decades ago. At 30,000 feet, the green mountains of the north and the endless strand of beaches along the central coast all well matched my preconceived notion, fed by photographic and television images, of what the exotic country would look like.
A Fascinating Blend of Old and New
That all changed when the China Airlines plane descended to land in Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC), still referred to by the locals as Saigon. Whatever I had imagined about the city in the south was outdated. The Saigon that I saw in the corner of Southeast Asia bore a greater resemblance to Houston, Texas, with its two downtown business districts and vast sprawl of houses, than an old French colonial city mixed with Asian spices, races, and cultures. At least, that was the view from the air.
Instead of man-made bayous and rings of concrete highways found in the Lone Star State's biggest city, the brown serpentine paths of the Mekong Delta rivers and tributaries wound their way through the city and out across the lush green rice fields to the sea like a cobweb. The closer the plane got to the airport, the more HCMC looked like something totally different from any American city. Gone were the grids of streets of, say, a Manhattan. Gone, too, were the fine lines and cul de sacs of U.S. subdivisions. In their place were shantytowns with tight, almost imperceptible alleyways that were squeezed between narrow roads, the occasional newly constructed high-rise—there were many under construction—and the bend in the river.
HCMC is a vast mix of modern and rural. For a city of 8 million people, there are 17 districts, five of which are dedicated to farming. So the old and new, rich and poor, in terms of architecture and living standards, are often found standing side by side.
The fun really began immediately upon exiting the airport, when the passenger is greeted by hundreds of bystanders, crate-sitters, and tourist watchers. There were by far more Vietnamese hovering outside the main entrance than people arriving through the airport all day. What I learned was that many of the locals came to the airport to watch foreign travelers as a sort of sport or pastime.
The drive into Hotel District 1 in HCMC was yet another treat. Outside of one highway that cut east to west from the sea to the Cambodian border—built by the Koreans during the "American War" (aka the Vietnam War)—the streets and thoroughfares were clogged with hundreds of motorbikes, mini-bikes, and motor-scooters. A tour guide told me that only 10 years ago the streets of Saigon were filled with people on bicycles. Now you would be hard pressed to see one bicycle for every 50 motorbikes. Transportation was used for more than just getting around town or women shuttling to and from work in their long Vietnamese dresses or business pantsuits, for the locals were quite industrious.
A father carried his youngest on handlebars, with two more sons seated behind him. Mothers were seen riding with their infants. Men and teens carried objects of impossible size, from car windshields and boxes of water stacked high, to refrigerators and flat panel TVs. All of this was done with few traffic lights, no stop signs, and a constant push to go. If the 20-plus hour plane ride doesn't wear down the Western traveler with its upside-down time zone, the ride through the river of motorized bikes to the hotel could be jarring to a first-time traveler. As a New Yorker, I identified with the energy and the congestion.
Vietnam on the Rise
In the week that I stayed in HCMC, I learned quite a bit about a country in transition. Rising from the collapse of the Southeast Asian financial markets in 1997, which mothballed construction of high-rise condos and five-star hotels for eight years, the sprawling city is in the midst of a construction boom.
A tour of factories out in the rural districts showed Vietnamese working side by side with machinery, similar to the once thriving manufacturing plants in the United States in the 20th century. The average wage for those workers is US$65–$70 a month, which was a "good wage." Moreover, businesses in Vietnam (unlike China, which props up its factories with subsidies) won't take on a new contract or job if they can't make a profit. The World Trade Organization (WTO), along with China, are now realizing that the artificial juicing of profits have created a temporary bubble of growth—they now are in the process of cooling off the superheated economy that will host the 2008 Summer Olympics.
In addition, with more than half the country at sea level in the south, the powers that be are starting to implement programs to thwart global warming, with other acts to protect the land's lifeline of rivers by banning tanneries and other polluting factories from building plants next to the myriad waterways. If any nation is going to be adversely affected by the rise in sea level, Vietnam might be at the top of the list. Where is a struggling country like Vietnam headed? Infrastructure is a major problem, which could hold back growth. But the mix of capitalism and communism is fascinating. One Western businessman who has lived in Saigon for more than a decade calls it "benevolent totalitarianism." It's an apt description; however, in my opinion, no form of communism is good.
With the Vietnamese history of casting aside their Khmer and Chinese neighbors, as well as the French and Americans, they're now focused on building a sustainable future and embracing the modern world.
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