We reluctantly leave Vung Tau after the fishing boats come putting back from their morning catch at 10AM, via an old Soviet vessel used as a ferry. Tons of mopeds are parked at the dock. It’s a popular commuter route and rich peeps come on the weekends from the city.
She’s a creaky old thing, with curtains and furniture that are relics of the 1960s, and her hull has never been cleaned. We go up the Saigon River, sweating into the bolted down fabric chairs. It’s better than taking the route along the roads, with some parts paved, some not. A quick lean on the horn is the universal “I’m passing you, buddy” signal and the whole 2.5 hr ride is so jerky with guaranteed traffic. Eff that noise. Maritime travel it is.
In Vung Tau, a beachside town with manicured parks containing entirely too many tacky sculptures - like one giant set of boobs, what? - we walk along the promenade next to the sea. My mom is into the slow stroll and lags behind us, but the mood is so chill there’s no need to rush her like in NYC.
She loves that town and shows us where her brothers would race, by swimming out to the fishing boats and back, when they were kids in the 1960s. They had to move from house to house during the war, after each house was burned down by Communists. Taking the bus to the beach was her favorite thing.
We walk down Front Beach, past teenagers on dates sitting super close but not making out (PDA is not cool in Vietnam) and picnicking families with no AC, to find a restaurant that is an outdoor grillathon. Grilled meats are perfect with the super light, pissy 333 Vietnamese beer. Grilled anything on sticks, Viet style. Awesome.
After dinner we hit the stands under the cable cars for some <i>kem</i> - ice cream. A boisterous guy from Turkey selling ice cream waves us over. He tells us he’s Kurdish. My mom sees his stand and says, “Oh, must be Breyers!”
He worked for Toyota in Japan, and hated it. Now he sells kem on the beach, same way that his dad made money. My dubious mom gets a scoop of durian and talks excitedly to the guy about business, Vung Tau, money, more about business. She can’t believe he makes his own ice cream. I don’t think Breyers has ever made a durian flavor, but if they did it would blow my simple mind.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop to see a moped load up with 8 huge sacks of wriggling shrimp, fresh from the fishing boat. Two barefoot guys hop on in back of driver dude, holding 1 giant basket of shrimp each. And they’re off to the market, or a restaurant, for that night’s meals. People eat at all times here, cafes are open 24 hours for factory workers.
Today is my first time in Saigon in 17 years. The area I’m in is a little too touristy, hoping to go to some local joints tonight with my insider friend who has lived in Asia for about a year. The tiny raindrops hitting us as we walk into our hotel turn into a crazy tropical storm seconds later. And I thought it wasn’t rainy season. Welcome back.
