341. | Saigon, the shameless

Saigon is loud, shameless and has a lot more people living in it than 14 million souls.

In the article “Arrival in Saigon”, I left the story where I arrived on Friday evening and set off on Saturday morning to buy another pair of headphones.

Since then, I have spent 3 whole days and 44 kilometers walking.

I have something to tell you about.

The first days

My accommodation… Basically, everything is fine with it. For me. But there are elements of the environment here that would easily blow the fuse in the eyes of less accepting people.

There are 12 beds in my room. Now the company is mixed. I think there is someone in the room who lives in one bed as a lifestyle. In the middle of the room there is a completely pointless glass dining table and a kitchen cabinet. Plus, the door to the women’s room opens from this room. Under a printed sign “Men are strictly prohibited from entering”. The city still seemed modest here.

The room was probably converted from a small apartment into a shared dormitory. It also has a bathroom – built into the room. It’s 1 meter x 1 meter, and it has the toilet, the sink and the shower. Fortunately, I haven’t been in a traffic jam here yet. But I’m worried that if the need arises and I have to go urgently, there won’t be anyone there.

My bed is a lower bed. A plank bed, and a thin mattress. An elephant has probably slept in it, because the bed is sunken in the middle. So I can only sleep on one side. It feels like I’m sleeping on a ship that’s being stormed by the waves.

There’s a shoe display in the hallway in front of the room. There are an unreasonable number of shoes on the shelves and on the floor. More than the number of feet calculated based on the number of beds would justify. There is also a guitar (in a case) and a huge treble clef-shaped seating area. Plus a “no smoking” sign, under which everyone smokes inside the building with natural ease.

In Agoda’s system, you can mark that you want a non-smoking room. I wonder how they would solve this. Well, I have never seen anyone smoking in any room, but – as we know – the devil never sleeps.

Me neither. I leave the room in the morning, spend my days in the nearby café, in smaller restaurants and on the street. And I only retire to my bed around dawn.

14+ million souls

According to official figures, that’s about how many people live in the city.

People.

Another very common form of life is rats. I encounter them at every turn. Not only at night. During the day too. They run around everywhere. I’ve seen them in groups many times.

I’m not writing this because they bother me. Nor to hurt anyone. It’s simply a fact. The garbage is taken out at night, I’ve seen it many times. In the area where I live now, there are lots of small alley-like streets. It’s harder to take the garbage out in bags from there. But it’s easier to chew on it.

In addition, there’s a lot of garbage that’s not on the “to take out” list. So I’m not surprised by the presence of rats.

Let’s say, cockroaches either. There are a lot of them everywhere too. They’re more exciting. For example, I had to quickly learn not to put my backpack on the ground in the street anymore. I wouldn’t want to wake up on my deck to find a cockroach analyzing my dream.

I don’t find these creatures dangerous.

Unlike humans.

This species isn’t dangerous in itself. The approximately 9 million registered motorcycles and approximately 1 million cars they drive make them fearsome predators.

The traffic is incredible. Incredible chaos. Getting to the other side of the road here is truly bordering on mission impossible. It’s no coincidence that I get chills when Google shows me that I have to cross the road.

Toilet

Do as the locals do!

I got this advice from a friend who has seen the world before.

I saw a public toilet once during my 44 kilometers, but it was closed.

The whole city is one big public toilet, after all, you can’t close it.

I got an interesting answer to a question I asked this morning. It’s okay for men to pee in the street, but what do women do? THAT was a good question, and my answer is that I don’t know.

Well, I found out tonight. I was passing through a small park in the middle of a large intersection. Small here is not an exaggeration, let’s say with a 6-meter radius, waist-high vegetation. A woman walked in front of me. Suddenly I see her pushing down her pants. Luckily, she heard me sneaking up behind her, so we avoided the awkward moment of seeing what I already knew.

So far, I have only experienced the principle of “don’t look around, just drive!” in connection with driving.

Today, the realization almost landed on my chest.

I visited a local market, but I will write about that later in this post. The point is that I was already walking out of the market on an extremely smelly and poor-looking side street. In one of the shops, a guy suddenly turned his head and spat on the street. I was standing in the exact same direction. Only the low initial speed of the saliva and gravity were the reasons why I didn’t experience the experiential knowledge of someone else’s bodily fluid.

The guy immediately turned away and started laughing, and I even saw that he was already telling the story of almost spitting on a stranger. Let’s just say I laughed too, but there was no one to tell it to. Fortunately, I usually write such things. I’m still laughing about it.

Back to other needs!

I no longer have a problem urinating in places I would never have imagined. Let’s say between a tree and a parked car on a dark street. Or standing next to a fence, if it at least provides some cover from prying eyes. Which there are anyway, because no one cares if I urinate in the street.

But I still insist on some kind of cover behind the event, due to some seemingly stupid habit.

I have often felt that I am unnecessarily complicating my life with this shamelessness, or its falling wreckage. On Saturday night, I almost fought for my life to find something to hide behind. I really needed it, that’s the truth.

Turning a corner, I saw something that confirmed that I was too complicated. In the middle of the road (I’m not kidding!), there was a lit motorcycle taxi. It was parked on the median in the bend. At a 30-degree angle to the median. I think the driver was in a hurry, so he didn’t have time to park properly. But – feeling that it wasn’t safe – he politely left the lights on. Still, safety comes first.

It’s true that he was not only illuminated by the light of the electric pole he was standing under while urinating, but also by the light of his own motorcycle. I’m stupid, and I’m always looking for cover.

Walking Street

Since it was close, I went to a walking street that evening.

It’s not my world, I saw and felt that right away.

As well as the fact that people don’t go here for walks.

The number of scantily clad women dancing on tables placed on the street per square meter was quite high. The number of literary circles disguised as massage parlors was also quite high.

I had to save myself from the clutches of at least three women by walking back and forth across the street. I felt in greater danger here than during the low-speed saliva incident.

Fortunately, each woman only needs to say “no” ten times, and then they slowly finish the wedding dance, spiced with all the practicalities.

One woman made me laugh so much that I have to tell her story. She addressed me with the usual question of where I came from. I’ll just say that the battle is half lost if I answer that. But I told him anyway. I was wearing the same T-shirt I got for donating blood in Laos. He obviously just wanted to touch the blood drop logo on my chest with his few-centimeter-long artificial nails. While he was getting to know the image, he asked, “Thailand?” I told him, “Laos.” “Did you like it?” he asked. Yes. “And have you tried Vietnam?” then he winked so hard that I started laughing, because I had only seen such a scene in a movie.

In the end, we didn’t read Seneca together, because I was ready to leave.

But I found that this city is not shameless.

The first tour

Today I walked 17 kilometers in the city.

My itinerary was simple: Thiên Hậu Pagoda, Chợ Lớn, the Chinese market and Binh Tay market.

The pagoda was a real highlight for me. I have seen many pagodas in Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. This one was Chinese.

During the day, I ended up visiting about 5 such buildings, so I can tell you about my overall experiences.

These buildings are completely different from the ones I have seen so far. The temples can be approached from a small courtyard. The outer walls of this courtyard and the temple are extremely richly decorated. Small groups of statues, very beautiful colorful paintings, and carvings under the roof attracted my attention. When visiting each temple, I spent long minutes before entering the temple, there was so much to see. I was impressed by the detail and meticulousness that was shown here.

The roofs of the churches tell separate stories. The tiles themselves are works of art, which are then decorated with all sorts of – although I thought they were based on the same theme – sculptures and scenes. The roof itself is almost a separate performance.

The churches usually have a main hall and corridors surrounding it on two sides. Lots of incense burners are burning everywhere. There were huge, stove-sized incense holders everywhere. In addition, there are countless places where visitors place incense sticks purchased around the church. These are also used for personal prayer. I also saw incense sticks that I had never seen before. At first I thought I saw decorative elements on the ceiling. I thought of lampshades in the shape of a candy cane, about the size of two heads, winding in a spiral. Then I saw how they are placed on pre-stretched wires using long rods. At that time I also saw that they were smoking.

In addition, there is a lot of oil burning everywhere. They pour oil into oil-burning bowls by the liter.

And there are a lot of statues. Altars. Gold color. Offerings. In a form that surprised even me. For example, someone put a large piece of pork in the mouth of a tiger statue. But I also saw dozens of rice bags stacked on top of each other in almost every temple. And of course the usual offerings of drink, food and fruit.

Each temple offers hours of viewing. With the 5 temples, I have now gone quite far in the experience.

I thought I would go to the local market to quiet the buzzing of my brain.

I didn’t make it. It was a “everything you can imagine” market. Think of anything, you will find it here. Of course, I may be exaggerating. But the size of the market, the number of vendors, the hustle and bustle of people and the multitude of goods together could draw an infinite line.

I wasn’t here long. I quickly got tired of the hustle and bustle. This place has now been put in the “checked” category. I won’t be going to a place like this for a while.

I left the market towards the back streets. This was where the careful spitting happened. It was a tougher story to see the dilapidated, improvised stalls. Here I literally walked in stench and filth. This is not a tourist-friendly side of the market, that’s for sure. I liked walking here regardless.

On the way home, I looked at a small street that the AI had previously said was a typical old Chinese street, worth checking out. It was definitely worth it. The irony of fate is that today (I started writing on Monday, today is Tuesday) I’m already living in a second hostel on such a street.

On my way home, I happened to find a street that would become one of my sights for the next few days.

Book Street.

Well, this is a real danger to my life.

Imagine a garage. With mountains of books. I’m not kidding! From floor to ceiling, so that you can hardly walk between them. Do you get the picture? Now imagine 10-15 such garages next to each other.

The idea of going into one of them was tempting. But I didn’t dare take that step. I’ve been carrying two big books in my big backpack for three months. And last week I bought a new one. I couldn’t risk having a fourth one with me, because I’d get a hernia. And I didn’t come to Asia to open a library.