Ho Chi Minh City – Simona’s View

Finally! We traded Bali for Vietnam, and honestly, I was so ready for a change. Our first stop? Ho Chi Minh City—or Saigon, as the locals call it—down in the south.

Since we were planning on staying in Vietnam for over 45 days, we needed visas. Luckily, the country is on a mission to boost tourism (aiming for 25 million visitors, up from 21 million), so the whole process has been streamlined into a super quick and easy e-visa system. It cost us $25 per person, and within four days of applying, we were all set with 90-day approvals. No stress at all.

Leaving Bali, though? That was a bit of a drama. It had been absolutely pouring for days. Johnny and I decided not to risk it and headed to the airport three hours early. We had to book two taxis because there was no way all of us plus our mountain of luggage were fitting into one. Of course, one of the taxis had to take a detour because a tree had fallen across the road, which made the wait even longer. Then we hit the airport traffic… and man, it was a nightmare. Total gridlock. That was the first time I’ve ever seen a Balinese driver actually get nervous. No “island vibes” here. He eventually decided to weave through these tiny side streets to bypass the mess. Honestly, that stressed me out even more because I had no idea where we were going and kept bugging Johnny to check if we were still on time.

We eventually made it, but then we realized we were missing half the kids and the rest of the bags. More nervous pacing ensued.

Finally, the whole crew was back together and we headed for check-in. When we dropped off our bags, the agent asked how long we were staying. When we said “about two months,” she looked concerned, so I had to whip out the e-visas. She double-checked everything, gave us the thumbs up, and finally let us through.

Security was another story. They found Johnny’s darts in his carry-on (he’d totally forgotten to pack them in his checked luggage). He was faced with a choice: leave his precious darts behind or find a way to get them on the plane. After a bit of back-and-forth, he came up with a genius move—he just checked his entire carry-on bag as a suitcase. Since we had fewer bags than people, it worked out perfectly. Darts saved!

Our last hurdle was getting through the duty-free maze to the gate. There were these automated passport scanners, and Leo zipped right through. The rest of us? Not so lucky. Apparently, traveling with minors means you get sent to the “long line for families.” Thank god we left early. We made it to the gate with time to spare, though the flight attendants managed to annoy Johnny one last time—their card terminal wasn’t working, they didn’t understand basic English (even “milk” was a struggle), and they were using their own (very unfavorable) exchange rate for IDR vs. VND.

Landing in Vietnam was a bit of a reality check. It was the first time no one cared that we had a toddler. We all had to stand in those endless immigration lines, no exceptions. When it was finally our turn, I went up first with Simeon. Once we were cleared, I waved Arthur over, but the officer shut him down and told him to stay put. Then, a commander walked in, everyone stood at attention, he barked an order, they all saluted and just… left. No one replaced them at our window. So there I was, waiting with Simeon while the rest of the family was diverted to another line.

Even in January, it was sweltering. But coming from Bali, we were already acclimated, so it wasn’t too bad. Still, after a month and a half in the “boonies,” arriving in Saigon was a total culture shock. Suddenly, we were in this massive metropolis with skyscrapers, crowds, and neon lights everywhere. As our taxi wound its way to our place, I was just glued to the window, soaking in the nighttime buzz.

We stayed in the Landmark area, which I wasn’t thrilled about (not a huge fan of high-rises). To make matters worse, our apartment was on the 19th floor. Johnny kept that a secret because he wanted to “surprise” me. But hey, this whole trip is about mental growth, right? So I sucked it up. The place was smaller than what we were used to, so we had to get a little cozy, but for four nights, it was totally fine.

We’d promised the kids that the street food in Vietnam would be just as good as Bangkok. Unfortunately, not in our neighborhood. Landmark is basically for the Vietnamese elite and expats from China, Korea, and Japan. There was zero street food, and the prices in the local shops were way higher than we expected for Vietnam. It didn’t really feel like Vietnam, though we did appreciate how clean it was and the fact that there were actually wide sidewalks.

The next morning, I took the kids for a walk in a nearby park. After six weeks of dodging scooters on Bali, being able to walk safely was such a relief. We found this beautiful riverside park where local families were picnicking and grilling. But the highlight for the two youngest was the massive pirate-themed playground with ship structures. It was getting incredibly hot, but they didn’t care. They were so happy to be at a playground that they didn’t even notice the slides were basically lava.

We met back up with Johnny and Leo, looking a little crispy from the sun, and headed to the old city center for some food. Johnny took us to the Ben Nghe Street Food Market. It’s definitely geared toward tourists—much fancier than your typical street stall—but the food looked incredible. I was craving soup, so I went with a “classic Vietnamese” Tom Yum (don’t judge). Arthur was dreaming of crispy duck, so we ordered him one, but it wasn’t the fried version he’s used to back home—it was a proper roasted duck. He wasn’t exactly thrilled. Luckily, sushi saved the day. Everyone ordered something different, and predictably, almost none of it was local. We did find that amazing iced coconut drink we loved in Bangkok, though. It’s basically liquid heaven in this heat. It gave me hope that I’d be able to find it everywhere in Vietnam.

That evening, we wandered through the old center, hit up a massive market, and checked out the famous “Russian Market” (which seems to be struggling, honestly—there wasn’t much left). We even tried out the local metro and planned to walk back to the apartment from the station.

It was dark by then, and our area looked close on the map, but it was completely inaccessible on foot. It was on the other side of a massive multi-lane highway with no crosswalks, tunnels, or bridges in sight. We just kept walking along the edge of it. We eventually stopped at a little roadside kitchen for dinner and realized the only way to get across those few meters was to call a taxi. It felt ridiculous, but there was no other way. My theory? The elite area is intentionally cut off so the “commoners” can’t just wander in. (The next day, in daylight, we actually found a way across. There was a crosswalk, but it only went one way—from our side. And it led to nowhere. It ended at a grassy island with bushes, and you had to push through the landscaping and dodge overpass pillars. It was definitely not “accessible.” On the other side, you basically had to jump directly into traffic. We were the only ones using it, and honestly, we probably weren’t supposed to.)

The next day was a bit slower because Simeon had a fever from the heat. Later, we did a light outing to the Thảo Điền peninsula. Johnny wanted to show us where the Margetins used to live when he visited them back in 2019. He tried to get into some of the complexes that used to be open to the public, but now there’s a guard at every gate who wasn’t having it. We just walked through the streets and had total déjà vu—it felt exactly like being back in Canggu, Bali.

We braved the heavy traffic to get to a mall with a go-kart track so Matyas and Leo could burn off some energy. Arthur was too small to race, unfortunately, so he just cheered from the sidelines.

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After that, we headed home. I stayed back with Simeon since his fever was spiking again, while Johnny took the rest of the crew to an underground food court at the Vincom Center. He even made it up to Arthur by taking him ice skating.

On our last day, Simeon and I stayed in during the morning to be safe, and we didn’t head into the center until evening. There was a huge event going on. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what it was—my “Gepeto” (AI) told me it was either the 96th anniversary of the Vietnamese Communist Party or the start of the Tết (Lunar New Year) celebrations. The dates didn’t quite line up for the anniversary, but I’m also not sure if you usually kick off New Year’s with giant portraits of party officials. Whatever it was, it was massive. There was a live orchestra, singers, dancers, and people running around with red flags. They projected scenes from their history on the background, including plenty of shots of Ho Chi Minh himself—the “father of the nation” and, honestly, a pretty impressive figure considering what he accomplished. The whole thing was super dramatic with flames and fireworks. It was a pretty epic way to wrap up our few days in this city of 10 million people.

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Summary

We didn’t really have enough time to truly live and breathe Ho Chi Minh City. Our neighborhood wasn’t exactly the most authentic, so we didn’t get a real feel for the local vibe. But it was definitely a memorable start to our Vietnam leg!