Banh xeo with cuttlefish

We have a lot of meals here where we aren't sure HOW to eat it (Do I eat the head? How do you get the bones out of this?), and the wait staff has to jump in to mime it for us or even do it for us. When this dish arrived, we started faking our way through it, and since none of the five wait staff standing in a rank next to our table and watching us eat said anything, we figured we were doing alright.

This is ban xeo, which is often described as a Vietnamese pancake and is really more like a crepe. It's a thin batter that's folded over with whatever ingredients you've ordered. Mine is mushrooms and cuttlefish, and Ilene's is bean sprouts and cuttlefish.

We've had ban xeo before at a friend's house in Connecticut, but in that case we were shown how to roll up a small portion of the crepe inside a thin rice wrapper. You add in the other ingredients, like pieces of mint and basil, and then dip it in the fish sauce. We were expecting the same routine when we ordered ban xeo for the first time here, but no wrappers came with it. So we just started wrapping it in the large lettuce leaves.

We found out later when we observed friends eating this dish that we guessed exactly right, except that our technique is weak. It turns out that in the center of the country the rice wrapper method is common, and in the south the lettuce leaf method is common. They didn't say anything about how they eat it in the north.

-Robert

An evening at the symphony

The Ho Chi Minh City Conservatory Concert Hall is near our hotel, and we pass it regularly when kids are going in for their lessons. Last night we went to hear a program of Mozart performed by the Ho Chi Minh City Ballet Symphony Orchestra and Opera--the Don Juan Overture, a violin concerto and a symphony. The special guest performer was the violin soloist, who is officially named a People's Artist. I don't think either of us was impressed with what happens when state-supported art becomes state-approved art.

-Robert

Lost looking for Cholon

This afternoon I made my first trip to Cholon, Saigon's Chinatown. Back in the day when the "northern aggressors" were running things here, Cholon was a suburb for the colonists. The ethnic Chinese population descended from them are still congregated in this area.

For tourists, the main attractions in Cholon are a chaotic indoor market and pagoda hopping. Downtown, every motorbike and cyclo driver who spots me asks if I want to go to Cholon and shows me a list of the attractions he'll take me to, fee negotiable.

But somehow when I stepped out of the hotel this afternoon and made the "vroom vroom" motion with my hands to indicate I was looking for a motorbike ride, I got the only driver in the city who didn't know where Cho Binh Thay is. He studied my map and a crowd gathered around giving him lots of advice before we set off.

And we got super lost. I knew there was no water to cross, but we went over several canals before my driver started asking for directions from the guys who sell gasoline by the jar full on street corners. I ended up with an extra tour of about 30 minutes through industrial zones and shanty towns. When we got to the market he asked if I wanted him to wait until I was done to take him back.

After a walk through the market, I started--on foot--looking for Cha Tam Church and missed a turn and stumbled across Ong Bon Pagoda.

Cha Tam Church is the center of Saigon's ethnic-Chinese Christian community. Attached to the church was some kind of pre-school or kindergarten, which I could see through a fence. I stopped and watched for awhile, looking across the courtyard they used for a playground and into the classroom under a veranda. Little kids about five years old were sitting in a circle chanting some kind of lesson. Eventually the ones facing my direction noticed me and started waving, one at a time and then spreading to about a third of the class. I very badly wanted to wave back, but I didn't want to encourage them and get them in trouble. I hustled off before I started any commotion. Inside the church there was some kind of afternoon prayer service being led by a nun.

The church is also well-known as the place where President Diem took refuge during the coup in 1963. He surrendered and walked out alive but didn't survive the ride back downtown.

Jade Emperor Pagoda

Today we went to the Jade Emperor Pagoda, also known as Phuoc Hia Tu or Chua Ngoc Hoang. It was a photographer's heaven, and if there are any other travelers reading this, it's definitely worth the trip. It is not, however, so near the Museum of History and Botanical Gardens as some guidebooks say. Given another chance on a hot day I would spring for a taxi ride between those two stops.

One especially interesting room had an altar to the Chief of Hell with ten carved-wood panels depicting the ten torments of hell.

-Robert

New haircut

Today's big adventure was getting a haircut. I've been worrying about this since long before we came, because it starts looking like a duckling's fluff after about 3 weeks, and while it's the simplest thing in the world to cut it--electric trimmer on the lowest setting run over everything above the collar--lots of things that are simple get miscommunicated in my sign language. I can't tell you how many times I've ended up with two dinners when I only meant to clarify the one I was ordering.

Our street is hair-care central, in a way. There are about six places, but I need to find a local to explain to me what the story is with them. What they LOOK like is fronts for prostitution rings. I never see any customers in them, and there are always about nine or ten young women, dressed in identical cocktail dresses, different each day, either sitting in couches in front looking bored or sitting in the chairs doing one another's hair and makeup.

So I have kept looking for a barber and this morning set out determined to find out. The first two places I went into, the women inside took one look at me and said, "NO," and waved me away.

I finally figured out that the backpacker's ghetto has a few places. These are small shops, an arm-span wide, with an antique barber's chair, a mirror and a fluorescent light. I spotted one with another white person with long hair and wearing a tie--a sure sign of an English teacher who lives here--and figured that was my best bet.

When it came to cutting my hair with the clippers and the lowest setting, my barber knew what I was looking for. The short beard threw him, however. He had an electric razor going before I could stop him. I walked back to the hotel with my hat held over my chin like I was deep in thought and tried to even out what remained of it with my beard trimmer. If you enlarge the picture, you'll see it's pretty patchy.

The haircut cost $1.75, and it's the only thing that I have spent more on here than at home, because usually at home Ilene cuts my hair on a stool in the garage.

-Robert

Dairy fix

It doesn't look like much, but this piece of chocolate cake isn't a very common sight in Saigon, especially in the neighborhood where we're staying. Baked goods generally aren't, and neither is anything else with butter or cheese. On Sunday we decided to go to a French bistro downtown to get some comfort food. Specifically, in my case, before this desert, I had a French bread sandwich with salmon, olives and cheese on it. It cost $4, making it the single most expensive menu item I've had in Vietnam, but it was worth it.

English Club hits the town

Sometimes after the English Club on Sunday evening that Ilene attends regularly, and where she has made many friends, they all get on their motorbikes and move as a pack around the city. Notice at dinner that everyone is toasting with ice tea and fruit and yogurt shakes. (In these parties, Ilene and I always have to order first, and then everyone takes their lead from that. If Robert and Ilene aren't having beer, no one else is either.)

Next was a karaoke parlor. If you've seen Lost In Translation, you have some idea. There's a certain level of enthusiasm that's hard for most American's to gin up. (It's comparable to people who tailgate in NFL stadium parking lots before games.) We were good sports and each took our turns, though. Coincidentally, without realizing it, we had both picked Bruce Springsteen songs.

As usual, there's even more to see in the photo album. Click on the slideshow on the right.

-Robert