For the most part, we’ve finally left Pham Ngu Lao – physically, mentally, and emotionally.  No more daily dodging of street vendors, no more outrageous prices, no more incessant loud noises, no more frenetic buzz.  Our new alleyway feels a little slower, a little more comfortable, a little more permanent.

We’re not quite residents of Saigon but I feel less like a traveler and more like a guest of the city.  We’re slowly settling into a new pattern of activity.

Every morning, we treat ourselves to breakfast at the nearby donut cart.

A cart full of freshly fried donuts

Sweet, delicious, deep-fried before our very eyes and only a 60 second walk from our guest house.

Also, there’s ice-cream…for 3,000 dong.  That’s 19 cents per cone.  So much for improving on our Seattle diet.

On a nearby street, a bustling food market comes to life every morning, with a vast selection of fruits (many of which I’ve never seen), vegetables (most of which I’ve never seen), and meats (most of which I probably wouldn’t eat).  The fish are either laying out drying or still in the process of dying.  I recently picked up 2lbs  of sweet apples for about 60 cents.

A bustling food market

Of course, our neighborhood has its precious quirks.

First, this market is also permeated with unpleasant, pungent smells.  Drying fish and durian fruit are an awful combination, but we can also blame the garbage heaps sitting in the Saigon sun.

Garbage, rotting in the street

Second, there happens to be a middle school about 20 yards away, so even though we usually enjoy some peace and quiet, around 7am and 12pm, the street teems with screaming children.

Children screaming in English can be mildly amusing because you can understand what they’re saying – you can soothe annoyance with a little curiosity.  Children screaming in Vietnamese is just a cacophony of sound…quite an effective alarm clock.

Finally, every now and then, the water system will flood, creating little pools and lakes of water that will no longer fit in the sewer.

Sewer water floods the streets

The owner of our guest house said it was “high tide.”

We’re just happy to get out of the cauldron of Pham Ngu Lao, and it seems like this new place will be home until we leave Vietnam.