Saigon—I really didn’t know what to expect. Saigon has an exotic ring to it and that for me can be a deciding factor. So that was that. Flights and hotel booked. Realised we needed a visa—got that. And then began random research, five minutes here, ten minutes there for our short break to HCMC—formally known as Hoh Chi Minh City.

So, you think normal rush hour traffic is bad. You are educated to fanatic lengths about looking left, right and left again before crossing a street. Forget it. Remember being told never to cross a street unless you see it all clear? FORGET THAT. In Vietnam, if you want to get from a to b, (a being your hotel, b being the cashpoint) you need to forget every traffic rule you’ve ever learned.

Instead when you see the roads packed with zooming motorbikes and zillions of colourful helmets, imagine a flock of birds. Not motorbikes screeching and roaring. Not zillions and billions of bikes coming at you. Imagine a flock of rare birds. You need to walk past them—you; need to walk slowly past them. So begin. Don’t expect zebra crossings or red lights. Just start as you intend to continue. Slowly. Walk walk walk. The bizarre of bizarre will happen. The trillions of motorbikes will just drive around you. As if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

And so a normal day in Saigon begins.

Six of the twelve months that make a year are officially called monsoon in Vietnam. That’s a 50 percent chance that you, like us, will be in Vietnam in the monsoon. But this ain’t any place you been to before. Here a torrential shower is just that. Just a shower. Bikers quickly flick on their mackintoshes and subtlety try and cover any fancy footwear. And everyone just continues. Biking along, sitting drinking coffee, eating a street side baguette and pate sandwich.

I must admit I have been quite taken by Vietnamese coffee. Okay, so initially I was a typical European coffee drinker and scorned the local coffee drinkers’ way. I sat amongst them in comfy chairs, watching small waterfalls cascade over rocks in one of the myriad cafes that occupy leafy streets around Saigon’s Notre Dam cathedral. I sat amongst them, but I demanded my normal ‘regular’ coffee. Hot with a dash of fresh milk.

It was only when I was asked to try it, to take a teeny-weeny sip, that I realised I had been missing out on something quite special. The freshly ground Vietnamese coffee is put into a little metal filter which sits on your coffee cup and slowly lets the coffee seep through. Then comes the bizarre of bizarre. You are given a glass full of ice. You pour the intensely rich coffee over the ice cubes. Then you add strong homemade condensed milk. Then stir and sip. It sent quivers through me. On a languid, tropical, humid Saigon afternoon it wakes you up, that long siesta will just have to wait.

We walked and walked and walked and walked round Saigon’s historical sites under lovely shady trees. The Notre Dam cathedral, the old colonial post office, the villas that are now restaurants serving North African, French, Vietnamese food. Past the Saigon river full of cargo ships and up through Bin Tham market with its regal displays of lacquer, jade, silks and spices.

We walked round Cholom—the bustling, very local area with its wholesale markets and food stalls scattered about. (Me being me, just had to try the variety on offer. And only later, a certain someone pointed out huge rats running around…needless to say, it was only me who tried the snacks in the market stalls) We walked through wholesale markets for food and fabrics and old traditional Chinese medicine shops, lovely ancient temples with swirling coils of incense hanging from the ceilings. Walked through market after street market of fresh veg, fish, freshly fried delicious spring rolls and then we were exhausted. And I needed to see fields. I needed an escape from the city, from the millions of bikes and people.

It was 6 o’clock in the morning. I was determined to see outside of the hectic HCMC. I needed trees, rivers, lakes, fields, green horizons, blue skies, mountain ranges, ancient temples etcetera. Three hours away I was informed of the famous Black Mountain. A famous retreat from Saigon, I was told. My own research had stumbled upon the Caodai religion. No idea who or what—but the temple looked beautiful in pictures on the internet. Also the old tunnels made by the Vietnamese during the war with America.

A comfortable Toyota range-rover (officially a land cruiser) was duly informed that we would leave in half an hour. The driver was, like my husband, still asleep. But as he lived opposite the hotel, the concierge was more than happy to speed dial him. My husband, duly bribed by the Chi Chu Tunnels and intoxicated by the idea of actually using a rifle or a Kalashnikov at the shooting range there, was surfacing and soon ready for the day trip.

Off we went through the early morning motorbike trawl, weaving in and out—avoiding obstacles as they instantly appeared. We left the city behind and drove through rice paddies and swampy rivers. We passed the road to Cambodia. A right turn and 200 kilometres ahead we would have been in Cambodia. The sun was shining and water buffalos meandered lazily through mushy fields.

And then it started to pour. Not just a smattering of torrential rain. But in 10 minutes the otherwise dry concrete road was a muddy canal. Lucky we were high up in a Toyota Land Cruiser. Muddy brown water was being flung up; sprayed on anyone within a meters range of our car.

A boat with dragons on it appeared in front of us.

Excuse me, I thought. We were on a road, or so I thought. But maybe the road had merged into a real canal and so it was now normal to have a boat in front of us?

In the dragon boat ahead were men in white robes with dark coloured turbans like hats.

In his faltering, sparse English our driver said: “Caodai people. Dead.”

Okay. So this is part of the Caodai religion- a way for the dead to be transported to the afterlife? Maybe that’s why the Heavens had opened. That’s why the road had become a canal.

I then looked to where the boat hit the waves. It was a boat on wheels.

Amidst the horrific rain we reached the huge pillared entrance to the Caodai township. Ahead of us lay temples, schools, houses. All painted in a yellowish hue with pink dragons with lots of colours.

The driver drove us to the main temple. We saw three white cloaked men with black turban hats. It was peltering down, the driver drove us right to the steps of the temple so that we could enter without wading through the water. No sirree!

Not allowed. A short stern man in a white cloak and black hat shouts severely at our driver, swishing his hand and pointing accusingly. Off we go to the so- called parking lot and wait for the storm to subside.

It doesn’t.

All of a half hour later we pull our trousers up, borrow the drivers umbrella, and walk to the temple. The driver fervently refuses to join us.


In the middle is a big blue globe with little white clouds on it. And staring at you, in the eye-- is an eye.

We walk precariously on shiny disinfectantly clean tiled floors. We walk to the center of the Caodai temple. We walk to the globe and its eye. We look up at the ceiling above and see a blue sky, clouds and stars. Above the globe, in the sky are some deities. We are informed by the man in the white robe that up in the sky we have a famous Taoist saint, Buddha and other significant religious leaders. Caodaism is an amalgamation of all religions. We walk round the dragons and enter the opposite side. We are greeted by a woman in a white robe.

She points to the eye and then to the sky above. Tells us up in the sky is the Taoist saint, Buddha and other religious leaders. This is an amalgamation of all religions.

Its only as we leave that I realise the right side of the temple is men only, the left women only. As we leave we see a placard with information on the religion. It says Sun Yat Sen and Saki (Hugo Munroe) were patrons of this religion. Not sure if the religion idealises them as patrons or whether they were indeed involved in the religion. Fidel Castro is also a big star, his picture next to the placard.

We get back to the car and begin to leave the Caodai township.

The skies are suddenly clear. The sun begins to shine and weird of weird the roads are absolutely dry.