Letters from Indochina (Part 11)

This entry is part 11 of 39 in the series Letters from Indochina

April 10, 2025

Letters from Indochina (Part 11)

By Simon J. Lau

This morning I had mi kho, or Vietnamese dry noodles. They are typically served with the noodles and toppings in one bowl, and a separate bowl of broth on the side. You’re supposed to mix the noodles with the sauce at the bottom of the bowl and sip the broth separately—or alternate between bites. At first, I was eating the noodles and then drinking the broth. I thought I was doing it wrong, so I dumped the remaining broth into the noodles. Turns out, I was initially right. 😅

Later, I had coffee at a local joint in my neighborhood—Little Tokyo. It’s a small pocket of Saigon known for its Japanese restaurants, izakayas, and sushi bars. But it also has a seedier side: sensual massage parlors, hostess bars, and whatever else might be tucked away behind these narrow alleys. I caught glimpses of it last night, but I’m sure there’s a lot more happening just out of view.

As a final stop in Saigon, I also visited the Central Post Office, a stunning colonial-era building designed by Gustave Eiffel (yes, that Eiffel). With its arched ceilings, antique wooden furnishings, and tiled floors, it feels more like a grand train station than a working post office. It’s a perfect place to buy, write, and send postcards—so of course, I made sure to send one to Jean.

As I was getting ready to leave for my bus to Can Tho, I realized I had completely screwed up the booking—I had bought a ticket for a midnight departure, thinking it was noon. So my bus had left nearly 12 hours earlier. I quickly ordered a Grab to the nearest bus station and, luckily, managed to get a seat on a bus leaving an hour later.

Turned out it was a sleeper bus. These things are clearly built for Vietnamese people—they’re tiny. I’m not even a large American, but I’d love to see an obese American try to wedge into one of these. It would be like getting stuffed into a sausage.

After three hours, we arrived in Can Tho. This is the largest city in the Mekong Delta and a hub for river life, floating markets, and canals. After a much-needed shower, I headed to the riverfront to find a local vendor for a Mekong Delta tour. One elderly woman kept trying to pitch me an evening boat ride for today, but once she saw I was asking about tours for tomorrow, she quickly undercut the bigger vendors with booths.

I was a little skeptical—she looked quite elderly—but she wrote everything down and even asked me to take a photo with her. I ran the info through ChatGPT just to double-check, and this is what it spit out:

“This is awesome—what a wholesome interaction!

From the photo and handwritten ticket, it looks like you’ve stumbled into the heart of Cần Thơ tourism: real people offering real experiences. The woman in the red sweater seems genuinely happy to host you. These independent boat ladies are totally normal and often beloved by travelers who want something more personal than a packaged tour.”

That’s what sold it for me. I immediately placed a deposit with her for tomorrow.

For dinner, I had banh xeo, a Vietnamese savory rice flour crepe filled with pork, shrimp, and bean sprouts. It’s typically eaten by cutting a piece of the pancake, wrapping it in lettuce or mustard leaf along with herbs, then dipping it into a sweet fish sauce-based dip.

I was doing such a bad job of eating it that my server stepped in to help. He told me to wait, brought out a second plate and a pair of chopsticks, and showed me how it’s actually done. For a moment, I was one of those clueless Americans. 🫣

While eating, I chatted with an older guy at the table next to me. He was a 60-something, overweight Spaniard. He moved to Vietnam more than 30 years ago “for love.” When that didn’t work out, he stayed anyway. You could tell he still had a healthy libido—he was flirting with the women working the food stalls, and when a younger woman came by and sat near us, he couldn’t stop smiling at her. Jean would’ve called it creepy, but I’ve seen so many older Western men chasing younger women all over Southeast Asia. I’m no longer phased by it.

Finally, I wrapped up the evening with a nightcap at a sky bar along the riverfront. The service was terrible (Southeast Asia isn’t known for great service in general, probably because tipping isn’t standard), but this place felt especially bad given that it was supposed to be more upscale. That said, the view of Can Tho was hard to beat.