Just like Sapa, the Cu Chi Tunnels outside of Saigon, have become overrun with tourists, which totally took away from the experience. I told Andrew that afternoons in big groups like the one we were in make me appreciate not being part of a big tour group all of the time. The tunnels were made and used by the Viet Cong during the Vietnam War. Not only do the network of underground tunnels run around southern Vietnam, but they also provide a route to get to and from Cambodia as well. There aren’t any rides, parades, or princesses, but I feel like the tunnels have a Disneyland quality about them, if Disneyland were set in the middle of a jungle, with death traps, bomb craters, and an AK47 shooting range. Tourists get the opportunity to disappear in hidden entry points to the tunnels, take pictures with dressed up Viet Cong manequins, shoot guns, and walk through the tunnels. It’s educational, but a bit of a wonderland, and I wonder if in ten years if visitors will get to dress up in Viet Cong gear and enter the tunnels in an even more simulated experience.
In true Vietnamese fashion, our bus stopped off at a handicrafts workshop and store for 30 minutes. I amused myself photographing a garage door instead of shopping.
Halfway through our tour, it started pouring. Andrew made fun of me for packing a mini-umbrella. Guess who is making fun of who now?
When we got back into Saigon, we immediately hopped into a cab to go to district 5 (doesn’t it sound like we’re in the Hunger Games?) to get my dragon.
me: I’m sorry I’m making you go on this adventure with me…
Andrew: I think we’re a little beyond that by now…
(I guess he’s right, a day of dragon hunting is nothing compared to a year around the world.)
I handed my directions in Vietnamese over to the cab driver. He asked me something in Vietnamese. I responded with an apprehensive expression. Then he did the dragon dance. He pretended to have a dragon head on and wiggled back and forth in his seat a bit. I’m sure my face lit up, I shook my head up and down and said “Yes! A dragon!” and did the dance back to him. He dropped us off right outside a Chinese dragon shop ten minutes or so later.
We thought we were going to a market, but we ended up on a street in Chinatown with three different shops full of dragons. We walked in and out of all three dragon shops, pricing them out, before we returned to the first shop and eyed three different dragons. I tried them on. I made Andrew try them on. And then I debated. I intended to get the smaller size, but they looked cheap, and not nearly as ornate. The biggest one was by far the prettiest and most well put together. But it was nearly triple the price. I hemmed. I hawed. I made Andrew put the dragon heads back on again. And then he asked which one I really wanted. I said the big one, but it was expensive, and I knew my mom would yell at me for getting it. He reminded me it was my birthday, and he hadn’t gotten me a present yet! It really wasn’t that expensive, but this way, I wouldn’t be the one in trouble with my mom for buying a dragon in Saigon in month 1 of 15 of our travels! Awesome!
Not awesome: realizing we didn’t have any Vietnamese cash with us and we were in the middle of Chinatown. We walked around to three or four different atm machines. I told myself it was ok to not have a dragon, I didn’t NEED it… We wouldn’t have to worry about shipping… I could maybe find one in an American Chinatown… and then one magically spit money out at us and we were back in business! We dropped the dragon off at our hotel before going restaurant hopping for our last meal in Saigon. We do this somewhat often- we hop between restaurants, ordering one dish at each restaurant so we can get more of a variety of food/ambiance.
The second restaurant we eyed said “Traditional Vietnamese Food” on the sign. I rolled my eyes. “We would never go to a traditional Korean restaurant in Seoul!” I told Andrew, as he stopped to look at the menu. I wouldn’t even cross the street, yet he kept eyeing it until a westerner walked out and told us “Oh it’s great! You should try it, really good food!” So we went in. Big. mistake. The restaurant was clean, but too clean (and too empty) to be a good Vietnamese joint. The food was ok… but not as good as what we had had already, and it was pricey! ($4.00 for fried rice, tofu and a beer! Crazy talk!) On our way out, the Spaniard was still there talking to the chef. He told us he had just gotten into Saigon – from Spain – that afternoon.
“Seriously, he’s been here for a day and we went in on his recommendation?!?” I asked Andrew when we were outside. “Ohmigod, I know…” He responded and we pouted. I eyed the Vietnamese group slurping up what looked like delicious bowls of fried noodles, sitting on little plastic stools surrounding a table full of sweaty beers, and declared that we would no longer eat at any traditional fill-in-the-blank cuisine restaurants anymore. Andrew agreed.
At least his hotel pick in Saigon was stellar. That night, the manager sent up a little cake for my birthday, which we ate before I promptly danced around as a dragon.
