Eastern promise: wonderful Ho Chi Minh
Enthralled by the rolling hills of the Vietnamese countryside, I let the soft summer breeze, floating across the serene water of the rice paddies, twist and tangle my hair as I inhale deeply. The light feeling of fresh air dissipates and the crunching sound of tyres over dirt paths is soon replaced by the roaring screams of strained engines. I am plunged into the bustling hum of city streets and before long, our vehicle is enclosed by motorcycles which obey no rules as they weave through the rain-soaked cobbles like a shoal of fish. I gape in awe at the reckless abandon with which the drivers merge and overtake. For somewhere so close, it is so far removed from the languid movement of the rural villages and farming communities I have grown accustomed to in recent weeks.
The transition from the humid Vietnamese days to tepid nights fades quietly into the background as the adrenaline fuelled assault on your senses that is Ho Chi Minh City demands your undivided attention. Silhouetted against the blazing sun, the forest of high-rises transforms into a sparkling mass of dazzling lights. A comfortable warmth envelops me in a hug while I observe the energetic intermingling of the locals. Dynamic conversations drift past my ears in languages and tones I could never hope to understand. The urgency of life seems a foreign concept to the residents of Ho Chi Minh and their benevolent disposition has a way of making this great city seem deceptively small.
Here, there are no walls, no rigid egos separating friendships; the people meet and shake hands and smile with glee as they pass you by on the street. It’s a far cry from home. An escape.
Delightful scents flutter by me, drawing me in. I find myself trawling through market stalls, sifting through mountains of spices and fending off attacks from eager vendors desperate to make a sale. Alpine towers of silver statues adorn the rows staring from every direction with their beady eyes. The markets here are unlike any others. A unique blend of cultures and cuisines. They’re not for the faint hearted, though. Stumbling through an uncharted sea of delicacies, a more experienced traveller might brave the abhorrent stench of the native durian fruit for a taste of the sweet nectar beneath. While someone more reticent might roam the stands until they fall upon the classic taste of Vietnam in the enchanting blend of ingredients that comprise the renowned favourite: Phở.
If you look with enough care, you might find a pocket of calm in this dynamic city. A place to sit and observe the madness besieging you. Unlike London, this commercial hub isn’t trimmed with neatly manicured lawns and manufactured parks, but its rough exterior camouflages the harmonious beauty of human life. If you look beyond the tar blackened streets, you can bear witness to the unselfishness and tenderness of the people who live here. It’s no surprise that this once war-ravaged city has discovered peace in the remarkable complexities of domestic life.
The rain comes quickly here. It crashes from the sky without a warning, soaking through to your skin and making the streets run like rivers. I slip surreptitiously between people and find shelter within the warming walls of a coffee house: one of Vietnam’s most treasured commodities. In the heart of the city, the air is ripe with the distinct aroma of warm coffee. Crowds of people snake through the streets grasping steaming cups with fervour. Falling in sheets, the rain hammers on the window and distorts the image of business men and families into a filter of colours and shapes. Gazing out of the clouded window I raise the scalding coffee to my face until the ceramic edge is dancing over my lower lip. I inhale. The rich scent of perfectly roasted coffee drowns my brain. It’s too hot to drink and so I set it down with impatient hands and take in my surroundings. Perched on the windowsill, there’s a girl, no older than five, contemplatively making shapes in the fog of the window as her peers giggle and shriek at their parents’ feet. I can’t wait; I take a sip.
Once the rain stops, hot humid air retakes the city and I’m trudging towards my bed for the night, exhausted and gratified with my day. I find myself reflecting on all the glorious wonders of Ho Chi Minh.
By India Hedges, Year 12
The transition from the humid Vietnamese days to tepid nights fades quietly into the background as the adrenaline fuelled assault on your senses that is Ho Chi Minh City demands your undivided attention. Silhouetted against the blazing sun, the forest of high-rises transforms into a sparkling mass of dazzling lights. A comfortable warmth envelops me in a hug while I observe the energetic intermingling of the locals. Dynamic conversations drift past my ears in languages and tones I could never hope to understand. The urgency of life seems a foreign concept to the residents of Ho Chi Minh and their benevolent disposition has a way of making this great city seem deceptively small.
Here, there are no walls, no rigid egos separating friendships; the people meet and shake hands and smile with glee as they pass you by on the street. It’s a far cry from home. An escape.
Delightful scents flutter by me, drawing me in. I find myself trawling through market stalls, sifting through mountains of spices and fending off attacks from eager vendors desperate to make a sale. Alpine towers of silver statues adorn the rows staring from every direction with their beady eyes. The markets here are unlike any others. A unique blend of cultures and cuisines. They’re not for the faint hearted, though. Stumbling through an uncharted sea of delicacies, a more experienced traveller might brave the abhorrent stench of the native durian fruit for a taste of the sweet nectar beneath. While someone more reticent might roam the stands until they fall upon the classic taste of Vietnam in the enchanting blend of ingredients that comprise the renowned favourite: Phở.
If you look with enough care, you might find a pocket of calm in this dynamic city. A place to sit and observe the madness besieging you. Unlike London, this commercial hub isn’t trimmed with neatly manicured lawns and manufactured parks, but its rough exterior camouflages the harmonious beauty of human life. If you look beyond the tar blackened streets, you can bear witness to the unselfishness and tenderness of the people who live here. It’s no surprise that this once war-ravaged city has discovered peace in the remarkable complexities of domestic life.
The rain comes quickly here. It crashes from the sky without a warning, soaking through to your skin and making the streets run like rivers. I slip surreptitiously between people and find shelter within the warming walls of a coffee house: one of Vietnam’s most treasured commodities. In the heart of the city, the air is ripe with the distinct aroma of warm coffee. Crowds of people snake through the streets grasping steaming cups with fervour. Falling in sheets, the rain hammers on the window and distorts the image of business men and families into a filter of colours and shapes. Gazing out of the clouded window I raise the scalding coffee to my face until the ceramic edge is dancing over my lower lip. I inhale. The rich scent of perfectly roasted coffee drowns my brain. It’s too hot to drink and so I set it down with impatient hands and take in my surroundings. Perched on the windowsill, there’s a girl, no older than five, contemplatively making shapes in the fog of the window as her peers giggle and shriek at their parents’ feet. I can’t wait; I take a sip.
Once the rain stops, hot humid air retakes the city and I’m trudging towards my bed for the night, exhausted and gratified with my day. I find myself reflecting on all the glorious wonders of Ho Chi Minh.
By India Hedges, Year 12