6/23/16
One day, we decided to visit a Buddhist temple. Loosely based on Google recommendations for attractions in Saigon, we ended up choosing Chùa Vĩnh Nghiêm. This week, my sole uncle living in Vietnam promised me he would take me to where he and my mom grew up. I figured we could meet up after my friends and I visited the temple.
So early that morning, Grant, Jared, Katrina, and I walked from our guesthouse and headed north toward the river. We planned to just grab breakfast along the way. We passed through a beautiful park, featuring a white statue in the middle. We struggled to discern the genders and identities of the 3 figures in the sculpture, but remembered Dr. Robert’s comment about how much of Communist propaganda intentionally homogenizes facial features. Meanwhile, older women exercised on the ubiquitous outdoor workout equipment in the park. We wandered through alleyways until we found a restaurant that seemed nice. After we ordered food, though, we were very confused when we received like 5 dishes that we never ordered. Later we’d learn that this is just a tactic used by many restaurants in Vietnam to overcharge their customers for food they didn’t order. But we fell for it. And enjoyed every last bite of skewered meat and chả giò.
On our way to the temple, we sighted a garishly pink catholic church and had to check it out. The plethora of Jesus decor was almost over the top, but we still felt a very sacred air when we stepped inside and sat for a little. My uncle later told me that it was built in the 1800s during the French Indochina era.
As we kept walking, we found the Buddhist temple and entered through the ornate gates. A lady pursued us peddling lotus flowers from her cart. We politely refused. We walked around a bit, meeting a South Korean navy seal and having a pleasant conversation with him. We all appreciated the serene beauty of the Buddha fountain.
My uncle rolled in on his motorbike to pick me up from the temple. But before we left, we took a few pictures and he surprised me by saying that my grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s ashes are stored in urns at this very temple. This temple we chose mostly randomly just so happened to be the same one where my ancestor’s remains lie. Whoa.
I waved goodbye to my friends, and my uncle took me on yet another whirlwind motorbiking journey through Saigon. We first visited the alley where my mom spent the majority of her childhood. My uncle told me that so much has changed, so the doors, windows, shops, etc. are all new. It was a little strange to think about…my mom as a little schoolgirl playing on the streets with her brothers and sisters…in this exact spot over 50 year ago. With such a tangible experience to grip onto, I started to fully realize the intertwined histories of my mother and her family and the history of Vietnam itself. And these histories can never be unwound from each other.
Then we visited the home where they moved when my mom was a teenager. It was more on a main road, but again, he said that everything…all the stores, restaurants, neighbors, etc. have changed. So I asked him what has stayed the same through all these years and he gave me one straight answer: the trees.
Some of the trees lining the streets of Saigon are nearly a hundred years old. They are carefully marked and maintained by the government. What I took away from this journey was that Vietnam has grown a lot in the 40 years postwar and very little is the same…Rapid urbanization, political strife, economic highs and lows, globalization, etc. have all shaped a new vision of Vietnam. And it will never stop evolving.
PS: Highlights from our last days in Saigon include...
One day, we decided to visit a Buddhist temple. Loosely based on Google recommendations for attractions in Saigon, we ended up choosing Chùa Vĩnh Nghiêm. This week, my sole uncle living in Vietnam promised me he would take me to where he and my mom grew up. I figured we could meet up after my friends and I visited the temple.
So early that morning, Grant, Jared, Katrina, and I walked from our guesthouse and headed north toward the river. We planned to just grab breakfast along the way. We passed through a beautiful park, featuring a white statue in the middle. We struggled to discern the genders and identities of the 3 figures in the sculpture, but remembered Dr. Robert’s comment about how much of Communist propaganda intentionally homogenizes facial features. Meanwhile, older women exercised on the ubiquitous outdoor workout equipment in the park. We wandered through alleyways until we found a restaurant that seemed nice. After we ordered food, though, we were very confused when we received like 5 dishes that we never ordered. Later we’d learn that this is just a tactic used by many restaurants in Vietnam to overcharge their customers for food they didn’t order. But we fell for it. And enjoyed every last bite of skewered meat and chả giò.
On our way to the temple, we sighted a garishly pink catholic church and had to check it out. The plethora of Jesus decor was almost over the top, but we still felt a very sacred air when we stepped inside and sat for a little. My uncle later told me that it was built in the 1800s during the French Indochina era.
As we kept walking, we found the Buddhist temple and entered through the ornate gates. A lady pursued us peddling lotus flowers from her cart. We politely refused. We walked around a bit, meeting a South Korean navy seal and having a pleasant conversation with him. We all appreciated the serene beauty of the Buddha fountain.
My uncle rolled in on his motorbike to pick me up from the temple. But before we left, we took a few pictures and he surprised me by saying that my grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s ashes are stored in urns at this very temple. This temple we chose mostly randomly just so happened to be the same one where my ancestor’s remains lie. Whoa.
I waved goodbye to my friends, and my uncle took me on yet another whirlwind motorbiking journey through Saigon. We first visited the alley where my mom spent the majority of her childhood. My uncle told me that so much has changed, so the doors, windows, shops, etc. are all new. It was a little strange to think about…my mom as a little schoolgirl playing on the streets with her brothers and sisters…in this exact spot over 50 year ago. With such a tangible experience to grip onto, I started to fully realize the intertwined histories of my mother and her family and the history of Vietnam itself. And these histories can never be unwound from each other.
Then we visited the home where they moved when my mom was a teenager. It was more on a main road, but again, he said that everything…all the stores, restaurants, neighbors, etc. have changed. So I asked him what has stayed the same through all these years and he gave me one straight answer: the trees.
Some of the trees lining the streets of Saigon are nearly a hundred years old. They are carefully marked and maintained by the government. What I took away from this journey was that Vietnam has grown a lot in the 40 years postwar and very little is the same…Rapid urbanization, political strife, economic highs and lows, globalization, etc. have all shaped a new vision of Vietnam. And it will never stop evolving.
PS: Highlights from our last days in Saigon include...
- Seeing a kickass performance by the A O crew involving acrobatics, live music, and performances that reflect the culture and history of Vietnam...plus we got to take pictures with the gorgeous men and women of A O
- Grabbing ice cream and mochi with our HCM university buddies at Vincom
- Eating dim sum and exploring HCM's chinatown in an everlasting search for bubble tea...we gave up and went back to our neighborhood for the trà sữa thạch
- Wrapping up our last days at the Vietnamese Language Studies center...at least now we can ask for the check (tính tiền)!