Like the local jasmine that entices one closer for a multisensory look, Vietnam's full color and depth is coming into view once more.
A long-time exotic locale-but a more recently popular destination with the burgeoning ecotourist and better-than-yours Instagrammer troupes-the country is experiencing an economic spike and higher public consciousness in the U.S. and elsewhere.
Nowhere is the rapid acceleration more evident than Saigon-or, Ho Chi Minh City for foreigners or nationals not actually from Saigon.
"My city is changing so fast, I hardly recognized it when I returned after three years away studying abroad in Finland", said Helen, a colleague and fast friend whose infectious smile epitomizes the good humor of nearly everyone I met while here.
Friends and strangers alike are quick to make a joke-sometimes surprisingly sarcastic-and even quicker to spread a laugh or at least a full grin.
"We had approximately 5 million people in Saigon 10 years ago," continued Helen as we rode three hours through her city's extrapolating sprawl on our way to the Tra Su Forest bird sanctuary.
"Today, we have doubled to around 10 million people, and more are coming from the country every day."
"They want jobs and a better life", chimed in Dian, our globe-trotting American coordinator who has visited here many times. "It is even far busier in the city than when I was here just last year."
Their collective observations and concerns about arrivals outpacing infrastructure were born out by the eye test as well.
It is not often that any skyline in any size metropolis sports half a dozen glittering skyscrapers being built at once. (Perhaps two or three signals strong growth in an American city.) The amount of familiar brand name storefronts is equally jarring, albeit exceedingly popular among the people.
The crowd of taxis and limitless horde of motorbikes coagulates, pulses and distills equally down these capitalist thoroughfares and more proletariat side street bastions. The coordinated chaos continues regardless of pesky annoyances like traffic lights, right of way or painted lines, though drivers thankfully seemed a bit more cautious by night.
Cab drivers and chauffers are masters of improvisation and the car horn, though most everyone seems impervious to the endless cross cutting, lane changing (or, commandeering), and flow challenging that all have agreed upon.
While trying to best ignore the adventurous automotive dance from a backseat window- "Just don't look ahead and you'll be fine" an American colleague and veteran traveler assured me-one is enthralled with the dichotomies of this place.
French architecture remains everywhere, from sagging storefront facades to a colonial post office and a familiarly impressive Catholic cathedral. Yet, they all stand in the shadows of the towering bank and office structures one would overlook elsewhere.
Squint, and you see New Orleans neighborhoods, save for the yellow star and red backdrop of the Vietnamese flag flying proudly. (It is fluttering next to a Soviet sickle and hammer about 50% of the time.) Buddhist temples and pre-colonial architecture exist but are harder to find.
Our day-time trek out to the countryside and bird sanctuary similarly revealed the humble tin shelters and stucco domiciles one could still see in the most rural of Louisiana not so long ago.
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Yet, an infilling backwater burg sports the same garish LEDTV storefront as a Saigon avenue. So too the increasing number of luxuriously doored villas. Wandering chickens, shirtless motorbike mechanics and western-clad mothers running very traditional errands are the prevailing counterpoints, but even the remote hamlets are papered with advertisements of the other hemisphere's culture and its domestic adaptations.
One young boy sits in his humble storefront home with a pen and paper, dutifully studying for a better future while his mother stands nearby. A few houses down, another child the same age relaxes alone, enthralled on his I-pad.
My traveling mates and I frequently pondered how one can see 400 years into the past here just as easily as 40 years into the future. It's a familiar pattern-with all of today's economic promises and tomorrow's socioeconomic pitfalls-that we've recently witnessed elsewhere as we've weighed our own domestic outcomes.
The modern era is beckoning, and all may heed its call here before too long, but Americans are also forever grappling with our sordid past in this place.
Our tour guide, Hi- "My real name is too long to remember," he quipped, "but no one ever forgets 'Hi.'"-somberly pointed out preserved Vietcong headquarters and hideouts amid the jungle as we silently paddled through an afternoon downpour in the rapidly shrinking swamps outside Saigon.
"Everyone has their own side of this story," Hi said. "Three million of our people were killed during this time. I will show you some of the bomb craters in the jungle from the American fighter jets. Have you seen the new PBS special on the war? It is very interesting."
Indeed, one needn't even close eyes to perfectly picture an American G.I. exiting his open-sided Huey helicopter, rifle held above his head as he waded waist-deep into the literal and metaphorical quagmire. CCR or the Rolling Stones would be added posthumously as the soundtrack of this very place.
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As Hi led our two-boat party closer to the sanctuary's promised heron, stork and angler bird flocks, he and I further navigated the complicated nature of the War in Vietnam.
'Was America helping South Vietnam or hurting all of Vietnam?' became the question neither of us could answer even as we agreed on the query. However, we were fully unified in our desire to not see history repeat itself in Korea despite familiar Cold War foes circling on the periphery.
"War propaganda works the same on all sides," noted Hi. "It's meant to get the 18 and 20-year olds to think war is good. I hope there is no war there, for all of our sakes-Korea, China, the United States, Russia, Japan, Vietnam, the Philippines-no doomsday."
Natural hope gave way to nature's winged beauty as we rounded into a lily ensconced lake. We munched on a few lotus water lily seeds pulled from pods in the pond (but not too many or you will become extremely sleepy). Countless mother birds watched us warily from their nests.
They had nothing to fear: We seemed far smaller in our wooden boats than their enormous wingspans and lofty treetops.
"This is nothing right now," Hi said. "Come back someday around sundown or sunset when the busy birds go out to or return from fishing. There are so many then.
"I wish more people would visit this place. Tourists like you are interested, but we need to advertise this better so more come. The local people don't often spend time here on family outings either, but they really should."
It remains to be seen whether more explorers would improve appreciation and upkeep or erode the very habitat that draws one in. Nonetheless, the toothy mudfish cooked and served mere feet from where it was caught proved worthy of my feeble chopstick skills. So too the eel I tried for the first time that day as well as the frog legs that had been previously experienced during this week-long stay.
Our Vietnamese companions smiled as I lamented my slow pace.
"It just means more food for us!", one laughed as she raced us all to clear the plate.
My sloppy chopstick chops notwithstanding, I lost count of the delicious fish eaten as a group in French bistros and bars or family cafes. These were welcome intermissions or codas to days of meetings spent in the city.
Vietnamese barbecue also proved more than up to the task of enticement, washed down with refreshing-yet-nondescript local beers-all lagers, as the high temperature and humidity prevent even the thought of brewing or drinking anything else.
"What was your favorite part of the trip?", I asked Truc, a young and bubbly local agent who had accompanied our party for a couple days.
"Oh, I liked lunch the best!", she immediately responded. She was both half joking and dead serious as she laughed and continued.
"But let's wait until dinner because I might have to tell you that's the best then!"
It's cliché' to end this way, but there is no other way to honestly do so: I will fondly remember the booming city, a quiet canoe paddle, swelteringly busy market and gastronomic explorations.
But I will dearly miss the people here.
I can't wait to see these new friends again next year when I return.
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