Noel decoration

In front of Eden mall, Saigon, Christmas ornaments are on display. People here love to come and take pictures. It’s a tradition.

It’s their annual pilgrim, blending East and West (Noel decorationas prelude to Tet’s celebration).

Sidewalks still uneven. Tourists still trip over loosed bricks.  Yet they keep coming.

The other boulevard (Ham Nghi) with Old Market (Cho Cu) steps up to the plate, serving as a de facto alley to Le Loi, now upscaled.

Ham Nghi see all the buses, the technical school and retail shops for the natives. Le Loi, tourists.

The tale of two boulevards, born of the same period, but serving two different constituencies.

If I were a backpacker, Saigon to me would be a maze of alleys, of cheap beer and beds, knock-off goods at Ben Thanh Market and pirated CD copies. Backpackers would go on day tours to Cu Chi and Mekong Delta. Then I would never know how the rest of Saigon live and love.

A stone throw away, people hang out along the stinky canal (Nhieu Loc).

Exercise crowd early morning, and beer crowd late afternoon.

Both backpackers and natives could live on a few dollars a day. But the two shall never meet.

Different expectations, different outcomes.

One just passes through (taking in the smell and sensation), the other stays put (dropping off and picking kids up at school).

Then somehow, the week before Noel and Tet, they both conjoin, in front of a Nativity display, those pine trees and ornaments, with empty boxes underneath, but more guarded than bank vaults.

Then both tourists and natives would smile for the cameras.  Smile to record the worried faces (will next year be a better one).

The Sad Hymn is played on air, and the line sticks in one’s head “Noel nam nao chung minh co nhau” (Last Christmas we were together, but not this year).

I had a friend who died last year right after Christmas. I still remember that Noel was his last.

Sad Hymn. He used to play in the lobby of the Hyatt, just around the corner from those bustling decoration. This year, some pianist is taking up that spot, that gig, to blanket the place with classy “ambience”. Outside, throngs of tourists and natives continue to burn gasoline, cruising by to see those flashing lights. And Sad Hymn is played again and again (just like Silent Night in the States), but no one pauses to remember an old friend.

Funny how the same decoration could trigger different responses from people, regardless where they are from. We are all passing by year after year after circling the Colonial French Round-about in front of Eden Mall.