Saigon skyline at night (photo by Son Michael Pham)
A Tale of Two Asias
by Luis R. Rigual | Modern Luxury Dallas magazine
Thirty-seven years after the end of the Vietnam War, Ho Chi Minh City is still evolving. Tradition versus modernity is a battle that wages on in emerging countries all over the world, but in the former Saigon the yin-yang of then and now is palpable everywhere.
A walk down Dong Khoi Street in the shopping zone of town reveals a literal picture of this dichotomy. On one side of the thoroughfare: blue-chip shops like Chanel and Cartier touting their logo-ed riches behind immaculate glass; on the other: barefoot merchants chopping fish heads and hocking obvious counterfeit goods from ramshackle kiosks.
Yes, luxury has arrived in HCM City, but the capital’s colonial heritage and make-do spirit are still alive and well.
This contrast of identities continues everywhere I go. Aboard a speedboat on the Saigon River while on an aquatic tour of the city, I spot the telltale signs of new infrastructure (high-rise cranes, dredging, road construction) as I catch a whiff of smoke emanating from nearby burning sugarcane fields—a clue of farmers preparing their lands for the next harvest the same way their ancestors have done for hundreds of years. Steps from the City Hall palace built in 1908, I encounter the Vincom Center Mall, Vietnam’s first green, energy-saving building. In the business district, my eyes can’t help but be drawn up to the Bitexco Financial Tower, a 68-story glass skyscraper that’s a beaming symbol of Vietnam’s new capitalist sensibilities.
“It’s extremely modern and contemporary one moment, and old and complete mayhem the next,” says tour guide Holly Richter over drinks at the rooftop of Shri, a restaurant on the 23rd floor of the Centec Tower (another one of the city’s tall, glossy structures). “I think that’s what this city has always been about.”
Catering to these two personalities on the hospitality end is the Park Hyatt Saigon in District 1. Barely 6 years old, the regal hotel (a “best of” regular in most travel magazines) was designed to evoke the city’s French colonial past. This romantic nostalgia is most prevalent in the lobby lounge, with its high windows, hurricane chandeliers and a majestic piano that springs to life with music just as dusk begins to settle over the city. The hotel’s 244 rooms and suites are just as sophisticated in tone with warm colorations and furnishings: two-poster beds, vintage photographs on the walls, oak flooring, ceiling fans and palmetto shutters that are reminiscent of grand old Caribbean plantations. Enhancing the decorative trappings of tradition is a slew of modern-age amenities: satellite-connected LCD flat-screens and wireless Internet, as well as 24-hour butler, in-room dining, and concierge services. In the roomy marble-tiled baths, rain showers, designer toiletries and plush bathrobes are just some of the creature comforts reflecting the hotel’s five-star status.
The in-room pampering doesn’t compare to the indulgences at the Xuan Spa, which takes its cues from the Vietnamese spring and the four natural blossoms that celebrate the season’s essence—apricot, orchid, chrysanthemum and bamboo—and which are all somehow incorporated into various treatments.
Equally attuned to its host city’s duality are the hotel’s restaurants. With its veranda overlooking Lam Son Square, Opera becomes a daily morning stop during my trip for hearty and fragrant pho noodle soup, too warm a treat for the hot and humid days that permeate my visit in early fall, but one I nonetheless can’t resist, especially when paired with the endless variety of American sides and exotic fruit juices. However, it’s the East-meets-West culinary approach at the more formal Square One that ultimately wins me over. Helming the restaurant is Chef de Cuisine Benjamin Attwater, a young Australian who’s all too aware of HCM City’s gastronomic customs and the discerning palates of the Park Hyatt clientele. His menu is a happy compromise of both worlds.
Following a visit to the nearby Ben Thanh Market, where many of his ingredients are sourced, Attwater invites our group to a cooking class with his sous-chefs. After much head-nodding, pointing and broken English, we emerge from one of the eatery’s five open kitchens and into its darkly lit dining room with prime examples of Square One’s specialties: spring rolls with pork, mint and mustard leaf; pomelo salad with shrimp; grilled prawns with herbs impossible to pronounce; and a steamed freshwater fish none of the toques could identify in English.
Not that anyone cared. Like the divergent sights in Ho Chi Minh City, some things just defy description.
