It had been only forty-eight hours since we left Saigon and we were only a few hours from home when a stranger, looking at both of us still wide-eyed at the wonders we had seen and our eyes reflecting the identical blue color, asked us if we were sisters. If only he had looked closer he could have seen that our eyes were only reflecting the brilliant blue color of the Saigon sky.
Sunday, Dec. 8th Ho Chi Minh City-(Saigon): Brilliant blue sky. Riding into the city, both foreign and familiar are the first two words that come to mind. Was it the news media that brought the Vietnam war into our homes or was it Hollywood that made us feel immediately connected to a place and to people who speak a language that we can not understand? I am not sure, yet I know I feel comfortable in it’s familiarity. Warm, tropical and Christmas trees with their festive lights fill the city.
It seems that everyone here has a motorbike. Women on their motorbikes keep covered with arm length gloves to block the intensity of the sun. Men and women alike adorn their faces with masks to filter out the pollution from the traffic ahead of them. Families of three and four riding on one bike–baby on board! Women in their silk dresses and sandals ride with the same ease as their counterparts in pants. The traffic weaves an unbelievable street dance to the tune of horns beep- beep- beeping to signal their passing.
Sunday afternoon, sitting in the lobby of our hotel- twenty-five children, boys and girls dressed in their choir robes descend the staircase, lining up on the stair steps they sing Christmas Carols. They sing with their sweet voices, familiar carols, with verses in both English and Vietnamese. Many of them only mimic the sounds in English-the uncertainty of their meaning shows. Yet they continue to sway in unison to the music and the happiness in their faces shines at the response from the audience. Some have made themselves in charge of keeping the lines straight. Some are holding hands to double their confidence, some wiggle away to vie for a position, independent. Many have broad smiles when they realize they have made eye contact with a stranger, others show a more solemn expression of shyness when they realize the attention they are receiving. These children form the Sunshine Choir from the local children’s center founded by Christina Noble. Through all the attention their tiny voices sing, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, Oh Christmas Tree- Oh Christmas Tree, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, and the sweetest of all Silent Night.
Later in the afternoon, we watch from the window of our room as other children jump from the pier into the muddy Saigon river. The Sông Sai-Gon. They are happy for the wetness offered by the river water, a welcome contrast from the heat of the sunny day. The river current is swift but the children are skilled in their interaction with this flowing narrow river and climb up on the pier to jump again and again. If you close your eyes you can hear them count before they jump “môt, hai, ba…a..aa..!”
We have been here only a few hours and yet we know the day we must leave Vietnam will be a day that will bring tears of sadness. Tears that will absorb color and allow us to project in our own eyes, for the world to see, the brilliant blue of the Saigon sky.
Copyright © 2017- Molly Cox
Member International Travel Writers & Photographers Alliance