We left Da Lat in a hurry. Well, we weren’t in a hurry, but our motor bike taxi driver certainly was. Three people, two duffles and a backpack balanced on a motorbike tearing through town to catch a bus. We didn’t think we were late, but again, the bus driver certainly did. He shouted angrily at us as we got on the bus and promptly sped away, almost running over a motorbiker in the process. This would prove to be the easiest part of a 10-hour bus ride to Ho Chi Minh City.
Traveling through SE Asia isn’t always glamorous, but taking the local bus never is. We were either hanging out the window to escape the body heat and cigarette smoke inside the bus, holding the window closed to protect ourselves from the dust and pollution, or hanging out the window losing our lunch. Literally. Out the window. (Cough cough… Michelle….)
The city was a nice reprieve from the travel circuit. We were once again able to blend into the background and participate in normal everyday city life.
One of the best things about any big city is the abundance of amazing food. In this respect, Ho Chi Minh didn’t disappoint. We discovered (one of many) tiny street food stalls just around the corner from our hotel that served a banging bowl of soup. Soup for breakfast is a habit we might try to bring home with us.
After we were sufficiently stuffed, we rolled down to the market to do some shopping. We lasted like 10 minutes in there before the heat, the crowds and shop owners drove us crazy. We would try again later.
We meandered through the city, getting to know our neighborhood. We were lucky to be close to a city park, filled with locals getting their daily exercise in, usually in the form of silly over emphasized walking, but sometimes badminton.
As we making our way to the War Remnants museum, we bumped into the smoothest coconut salesman ever. He even had me carrying them for a second.
The War Remnants Museum presented yet another perspective on the Vietnam American war. The history of the war we learned in Hanoi, in the north, differs drastically from the history in the south, adding confusion for outsiders like us. Despite the varying degrees of propaganda, the museum was well put together. One of the more impactful exhibits centered around the role of photojournalists. The images and stories the those men and women brought the front lines of the war home to the front pages of newspapers and magazines changed the course of the war perhaps more than anything else that happened on the battlefield.
The following day we continued our history lesson with a tour of the Chu Chi tunnels. A short bus ride from the city took us to an actual battlefield that exhibited the tactics employed by the northern armies and their allies.
Beneath the jungle floor, miles and miles of complex tunnels allowed people with local knowledge to move supplies, find safety, and attack.
The tunnels were tiny! We crawled through about 50 meters of tunnel, which was enlarged by 20% in order to accommodate tourists. It was dark, hot, and claustrophobic. After spending about 4 minutes, it was terrifying to the think some people spent moths below ground, planning and carry out attacks.
We had been anxiously waiting for our time in Ho Chi Minh ever since leaving home, mostly because a little piece of home was waiting for us there. Something near and dear to our hearts…craft beer. Around the same time we packed up and left Boulder, the head brewer of Upslope Brewery, also packed up and moved to Ho Chi Minh to open a brewery and bring craft beer to Vietnam. No matter how hard or unglamorous our travels felt, we could always look forward to a cold IPA at Pasteur Street Brewing once we arrived in Ho Chi Minh.
Walking into Pasteur Street was like a homecoming. It felt so familiar, so us. The beer did not disappoint either! We had the pleasure of trying every beer on tap, some favorites being the Oolong Tea Pale Ale and, of course, the Jasmine IPA.