Schlink Attack: Ho Chi Minh + Bestie!

Sunday, December 24, 2023

Ho Chi Minh + Bestie!

Goodbye long underwear weather, hello booty shorts weather! Ok, it was more like "hello sensible shorts, I don't need to be sweating AND have a wedgie" weather in Ho Chi Minh. So far, we had gone from -20F wind chill in Seoul, to 40F in Cat Ba, to 50Fs in Hanoi, and now to 90F + 90% humidity. Prior to leaving Hanoi, Mark had the foresight to leave our winter gear at the hotel to pick up while transiting home to Tashkent, thank goodness. Still, the weather not unlike hot mop water, hit us on the tarmac and didn't leave for the rest of the trip. I would no longer worry about cold weather hives and chilblains, but sunburns, chafing, and heat rash instead. Moisture be damned because my bestie, my ride or die, my sister from another mister, and her amazing hubby would be joining us.

The younger, crazier sister to Hanoi and twice the size, Ho Chi Minh City catches people's attention by its Londonesque skyscrapers, Frenchy buildings and churches, and LA rooftop bar vibes. It's loud, vibrant, stuffed with museums (of which we saw zero), and where market vendors lean in hard with their sales pitches. Like Hanoi, there's counterfeit and authentic everything to buy. Obviously I had to get a Messi jersey for 4 bucks. We walked everywhere, to Notre Dame, the famous post office, countless parks, breweries and coffee joints. Collectively, we drank 29 coconuts over the course of three days and 22 of them were probably mine. We celebrated Christmas Eve with the hotel staff who organized a rooftop boozy AF happy hour, playing of course - George Michael's "Last Christmas" on repeat. The Holiday cheer was real big and Georgie was star of the show in every single bathroom, bar, elevator, market, restaurant. I wouldn't be surprised if they blasted yee ol' carols in the libraries and during vespers. The whole dang country played holiday music and you couldn't escape it. Except on the Saigon River where you couldn't do anything. See photo below. NO music; no stepping on grass or picking flowers; no talking to ghosts and/or electrical outlets; no Kung Fu on the toilet or trash can; no playing baseball with a giant Gameboy.

The most fun for me (the kids were rather embarrassed, for me? Of me?) was coming across the Hozo Music Festival downtown, where they had a flash mob dance off. Judges rated groups of complete strangers running into the middle to dance matching choreography. Obviously, I had to join. The energy and mix of people and talent was life affirming and I found I could mimic the choreography fairly well, or at least I thought so.

Having been extricated from the crowd after several rounds, we walked past gobs of instant ramen, cold coffee, selfie stations, and music stages. It was raucously loud though, so we retreated to Pasteur Brewing for dinner for a more quiet scene. Of course, our beer and coconut waters vibrated on that rooftop when some band dropped the beat. Ah well. When in Ho Chi Minh...