Banana Garden

The street I live on in Ho Chi Minh City is pretty typical of small streets here, but I love it because it's mine. The street is bustling from 5:00 in the morning until at least 11:00 at night. It actually gives "bustling" a new meaning- I don't think I'll ever walk through a street in the United States and comment that it's crowded or busy ever again. Every time I walk down the small street, I see something new- a hairdresser, a fabric store, or an up-scale cosmetics boutique next to a run-down, dark, room where an old man is selling ice for 500 dong per kilo. As I walk down the street, older men leaning up against their motorbikes yell to me, "Madame! Xe om! Moto-bike!" They are offering to take me anywhere in Saigon for sixty cents. Women sitting on small stools at the side of the road are ready to sell me pineapple, noodles, waffles, sticky rice and dozens of other delicious Vietnamese snacks. There are at least a dozen internet cafes on this short street- all filled with young boys playing internet games. I can also do my laundry and get manicures and pedicures- all within two minutes of my house. Bubble Tea is my new favorite treat in Vietnam, and of course I can get that on my wonderful street, also. Most of all, I'm going to miss my home. I'm going to miss the old woman who sits outside with huge, pink-rimmed sun glasses that are always a little bit crooked. I greet her with, "Chau Ba!" And she acknowldedges this simply by chuckling to herself and repeating, "Chau Ba! Chau Ba!" I'm going to miss the scruffy but harmless dog who always tries to get me to let him outside but then follows me upstairs when I refuse. And, won't I be sad when I can't go home to my little room where my roommate, My, is waiting for me? My has so wonderfully shown me around our street and around Saigon. Without her, my experience here would not have been as meaningful or exciting. I can take many pictures of my street, but I will never be able to capture the feeling of being there, the smells, the sounds, the excitement, the living, on Vuon Choui.