Sài Gòn mưa trưa nắng sớm
Tìm cho ra ngôi quán êm.
Hẹn nhau mưa xanh như lá.
Hẹn nhau trong nắng mượt mà…
“Amidst Saigon’s midday rain and early sunshine
Let’s seek out a quiet café.
Let’s meet where the rain is as green as leaves.
Let’s meet in the silky sunlight…”
The warm, leisurely voice of Đức Tuấn singing Quốc Bảo’s “Tình Ca Phố” [Urban Love Song] draws me into a swirl of emotions. I’ve lived in Saigon for sixteen years (as of 2012), starting from the day I was born. To me, Saigon is as natural as sunlight, as ordinary as breath. It’s so familiar it almost feels dull, always making me want to explore faraway places to discover new things.
Then, on a restful Sunday early in the fall, I spontaneously biked around Saigon with my brother and some cousins. Why not see Saigon through the eyes of a visitor? I tried, and for the first time in sixteen years, I rediscovered this city in a new and innocent way.
We biked to Turtle Lake. The area around Turtle Lake and Notre-Dame Cathedral is home to many of the most beautiful and expensive shops, skyscrapers, and shopping centers in Saigon. That’s all I knew about it up to that point. There were luxurious ice cream shops where my mom occasionally took me for some mother-daughter time. I was always fascinated by the entrancing lights, the cool air conditioning, and the delicious scent of ice cream.
But this time, I didn’t indulge in those things. I discovered another flavor of Saigon. After parking our bikes, we started walking around. That feeling was wonderful. My heart opened wide, ready to welcome a breeze of new experiences. I eagerly took in every corner and every shop that I passed by daily. For so long, I’d rushed to keep pace with the city’s hectic rhythm, so I had never realized how familiar yet strange this city felt.
We reached Notre-Dame Cathedral, which I’d seen countless times but never truly observed. The cathedral, like a rosy-red gem in the city’s heart, had witnessed so much history. The grand, intricate spires and arches were still vibrant after more than 130 years; its ancient beauty stood out amidst the modern buildings. We walked along the surrounding streets, admiring the art galleries, each with its unique style, quietly telling different stories of each road.
We stopped by the street vendors. The image of hardworking people with their street stalls starkly contrasted with the city’s glamour, yet they didn’t feel out of place. Their carrying poles, mixed rice paper, quail eggs, pastries from all over, and the weathered conical hats of the vendors remained a distinct feature of Saigon’s streets. They made Saigon feel humbler, reminding us that amidst the luxurious lights, many lives were still struggling. Remembering this lets me love Saigon more, but I won’t be blinded by its opulence.
Saigon’s beauty also lies in its youth. On Sunday afternoons, Turtle Lake becomes a hub for young people. Groups of friends gather and play instruments like harmonica, flute, and guitar. They also chat about countless topics. They might be close friends or members of an online forum meeting offline for the first time, yet their warmth erases any distance. I met a group of overseas students selling homemade flan to raise money for a poor student. “We wanted to do something meaningful when we go back to Vietnam,” one of them explained. We bought a few jars to support them. Honestly, the flan wasn’t as delicious as the store-bought ones, but their kindness was charming. In an age where the media often makes adults wary of scams and paints a negative image of some youth, many hearts still burn with their youthful passion. Those youngsters reignited a spark in me. At sixteen, what good had I done for the community?
A day of sightseeing in the city I’d lived in for sixteen years made me realize that many familiar things, seen from a different perspective, become much fresher. Saigon, with its myriad faces and warmth of sunshine and people, is no different.
