Good Morning Vietnam

In the early morning hours of Sunday morning the streets of Ho Chi Minh's District 1 are still. The temperature is a bit cooler than the mid-thirties high it will reach later in the day, though it still isn’t warm enough to justify anything apart from shorts. A soft breeze traverses the tight laneways of the central district, carrying with it the sound of car horns from the few vehicles and motor scooters on the road shortly after sunrise.

Standing on the fifth floor rooftop of the place I'm staying in, I observe the other solitary rooftops sticking out at uneven angles around me. A narrow, ten storey hotel on top of a restaurant faces me; I can look into the windows without even trying. Residential buildings with balconies covered in potter plants are scattered along the alleyway. A range of multistorey buildings, all capped off with hot water tanks and air conditioning vents tumble across the urban landscape.

On my first morning in Vietnam in a long time my stomach is grumbling from the night before. Not from food poisoning or alcohol but from over-fullness. After not eating much on the plane during the day, I stuffed myself when I arrived. After a big bahn mi, I quickly ran to a close-by noodle shop for bun bo hue. I slurped down the noodles rapidly in an attempt to keep eating before my stomach realised or was able to tell me it was full.

Now, on the morning after the night that had been, I still feel full but I turn my attention to the hostel owner who is making fried noodles and rice for breakfast.