bui vien walking street, vietnam
we’re sat on walking street. we’re here by accident. we know this place exists. we’ve been here before. but we can’t say we were trying to get here tonight. we’d started drinking and walking as we’re want to do. and i’m leading. after all, i have the data enabled sim. so i figure we head back towards the area our “homestay” is in. but also, this alley seems like a shortcut. and. it was more than just a shortcut. it’s the most residential saigon we’ve seen. just people’s homes. people’s living rooms. people’s kitchens, dinners, evenings, pastimes. simple family life in a quiet alley. the main noise coming from TVs… oh who am i kidding. this is saigon. the main noise is coming from mopeds. some with lights on, others with lights off. some carrying individuals, a couple or an entire family. they all weave down this quiet alley road with people living ordinary quiet lives. and eventually after one dead end, we emerge from this slice of normal ho chi minh city, vietnam onto probably its polar opposite.
this street.
bui vien walking street.
the noise. the lights. the people. it’s so much. music remixes. bars. restaurants. massage parlours. street vendors. it feels as though every type of person is here. kids. teens. adults. seniors. families. friends. vietnamese people and foreigners.
and. it’s a lot.
so we sit at a bar. on the street. and here we are. watching. looking.
what is the 19th of october for those on bui vien walking street, vietnam?
well, at least i can tell you what i’ve seen.
tourists. quite a few tourists walking around bemused by all that’s going on.
a pair of vietnamese girls and their dog with blue dyed ears. they’re eating. they’re drinking. and most importantly they’re social media-ing their evening.
the pink pimp. he came over to the vietnamese girls and in his pink suit with no shirt they started chatting. does he know them? i’m not sure. but he pulls out his pink phone. and his aesthetic is complete. i wonder what his job is.
the massage parlour promoter. we’re unsure if it’s that kind of massage parlour or not. but she’s identifying targets and zoning in. she’s handsy. she’s touchy. and she’s insistent. she finds a guy and latches on. sometimes trying to physically pull him into the parlour. i hope she gets the business she needs.
a young girl. we thought she was selling things as she walked around with a balloon wand and quite frankly a smile that could stop wars. but she sat down and starting talking to a drinking couple and using their phone. she must be a daughter or relative.
ladies selling stuff. fruits. nuts. dried or fried goods. sometimes alone. and sometimes with a baby on their back.
the dude with a snake. that’s all there is to that one. he walked amongst the throngs of people with a snake around his neck.
the drunk guy. he came past us and lost his balance quite heavily. he knocked over one of our empty beer bottles to its broken demise. which happens. but he was very drunk. and that was confirmed by him soon failing to get up from his chair. this is definitely not a good sign. his heaving is also definitely not a good sign. his hand over the mouth? most certainly. not. a. good. sig- oh, he’s thrown up. people walk past and double take. his mate tries to wipe his hand clean with a tiny tissue. and the guy who works at the bar? well he’s definitely seen this before and comes equipped with newspaper to cover and absorb the “spillage”.
the karaoke boy. he’s just a normal boy. but he has a sound system on wheels and a mic. and he’s singing. not sure who his audience is. but he’s singing at those sat drinking at bars. he must be doing it for money. but he’s not that memorable. i’m not quite sure i understand his business model.
the fire boys. one looks in his twenties. he does a short fire show. touching fire to his tongue. spinning the lit batons. and fire breathing. which involves just holding a flammable liquid in his mouth and spraying it at a lit baton to make it appear as though his breath is fire. we’re not sure if he’s good or not. because we’re mainly concerned with if its safe or not. and that fear only increases as he leaves and is replaced by an actual child. maybe 10 years of age? and. he does the same routine. but i cant help but notice that the kid extinguishes the flames rather than just touch them to his tongue. and i especially cant help but notice that while the older fire boy made sure to spit after every time he held the flammable liquid in this mouth. this kid is not doing the same. and i dont know if i’m reading too much into it. but i feels as though the kid might be taking more risks. but again. maybe i’m overthinking it. oh. thank goodness. it’s over.
people in mascot costumes. selling flowers? that’s all i’ve got.
the college boys. they’re drinking. they’re eating. they’re laughing. wait. what’s that smell… weed? i guess that sounds about right.
and
the bartender in suspenders. she seems so bored. “strongbow” branding plastered across her uniform. she stands and waits. she gets an order and she delivers it. no smiles. just work.
and that is all i can see from this plastic chair on the side of walking street. the background music to this show is the chatter. the music. and the sound of falling beer bottles. but i do wonder. what else is going on? what other lives are being lived at this time, on this day, on this street, in vietnam?
note: this was written by a slightly intoxicated me, at the time, in my travel notebook. but typed up and edited by a sober me the next week.