Ho Chi Minh City is one of those places that immediately grabs your attention. From visa trouble at the airport—it turns out correct dates are extremely important—to the first walk from my hotel, it was an overwhelm for the senses in the best way.
Ho Chi Minh City is known for its motorbikes. Crossing the street is an art form. You put your arm out and just walk through traffic. And yes, your life flashes before your eyes a few times as you make your way to the other side.
Initially, it reminded me of the game Frogger, where you try to move your little frog between obstacles without getting splatted. Reality is much better. You pick a path and you just keep moving. Veer off or do something unexpected and you just might be splatted, but keep moving in a predictable pattern and you see traffic weave around you in a type of synchronicity that is hard to believe.
And to be clear, most of my street crossings were to get to some type of street food. I ate so well!
My favorite came early in the trip. Across the street, an older woman sat in a squatted position over a grate of pork chops cooking on hot coals. She fanned the flames as locals lined up patiently waiting. There were a couple of small stools where customers could sit and eat their meals straight from Styrofoam takeaway containers.
Obviously, I crossed the street.
The full order came with some type of sweet chili sauce and cabbage. So simple and so good. Years later, after all the things I ate and saw in Vietnam, this is still one of the meals I remember most.
The prevalence of motorbikes is often more than tourists can resist. It’s really popular to rent them and drive them all over the country. However, after passing several bandaged tourists during our first few days, we decided maybe driving ourselves wasn't the adventure we needed.
We did a food tour by motorbike instead. Best decision ever!
The tour was run by a family, and all of our drivers were siblings or cousins in their early twenties. I wish I remembered more about them now. What I do remember is climbing onto the back of a motorbike and heading into Ho Chi Minh City at night.
The city was all lights and energy. People gathered outside to eat, and the hum of conversation mixed with exhaust and constant honking. I can still feel the energy of the city as the wind rushed through my hair and we wove through traffic .Talk about feeling alive!
We jumped between local eateries, most serving food outside at plastic tables with tiny stools. We came back with all our skin and ate some of the best food I’ve ever tasted—and one of the worst dishes I’ve ever tasted.
Let’s start with the bad. Okay, it wasn’t bad. I just must not have an advanced enough palate. Balut is a partially developed duck egg, fetus, veins and all, still inside the shell. It is a traditional dish, and I’m glad I tried it. But the texture is unlike anything I’ve ever had, and once was enough for me.
We also, of course, had a traditional bánh mì. If you ask me, that was much more in line with my tastebuds when it comes to tradition.
But my two favorite dishes unexpectedly came from the sea. We had conch poached in butter—easily in my top ten favorite dishes ever—and scallops on the half shell with butter cooked over coals. We ate and rode, ate some more, and climbed back onto the motorbikes to weave through the city again.
It was my favorite evening in Vietnam.
Of course, we did other things in Ho Chi Minh City. We haggled while shopping, went to the palace, mailed postcards, and chilled in a few coffee shops. We saw the things we were supposed to see.
But when I think about Ho Chi Minh City, those aren't the things I remember first. In fact, my only real regret from Vietnam might be that I somehow failed to take a picture of that pork chop.
I remember the motorbikes weaving around me as I crossed the street. I remember the lights at night and the sound of conversations mixing with horns. I remember sitting on tiny stools eating incredible food. I remember the wind in my hair from the back of a motorbike. And I remember an older woman squatting on a sidewalk, fanning the flames beneath a grate of pork chops while locals waited patiently for their turn.
There are cities that make you feel alive in the present and respect the past at the same time. Ho Chi Minh City is a unique place that somehow pulls you forward and backward simultaneously, and somehow they aren't opposite directions.
And yes, I would return just for the pork chop.
