Our journey to Vietnam turned into an amazing fusion of Soviet childhood memories and vibrant Asian exotica. Red flags flutter everywhere here, featuring either a lone star or the well-known hammer and sickle. Even in pharmacies, one can find the legendary “Star” balm, which was used in our childhood to treat literally everything.
“Oh, it burns, it burns!” the children exclaimed when we lightly dabbed it under their noses, hoping to curb a runny nose.
In Saigon, at the central post office built by French colonizers, the children saw telephone booths for the first time in their lives—the very ones we used to call our relatives in our youth.
“How inconvenient it must be not to have a mobile,” Erika philosophically remarked.
What truly struck us was the peaceful coexistence of the Communist Party and religion. Vietnam is teeming with Buddhist temples where red banners hang alongside sacred symbols, creating a whimsical visual mix. In one of the temples, Erika became interested in why people bring fruit to the “chubby statue.”
“That is the statue of their God, Buddha. To make him favorable, they feed him,” Arian explained.
Among the shrines, we liked the Jade Emperor Pagoda the most. It is one of the most atmospheric temples in the city, where the air is thick with clouds of incense and the architecture fascinates with its details. The establishment's true treasure is a unique collection of wooden statues carved from solid trunks. They embody divine wisdom, protection, and world harmony. Such a quantity of wooden figures is a true rarity for a tropical climate, where humidity is usually ruthless to such artifacts.
No less impressive was the Thien Hau Pagoda, built at the end of the 18th century by the Chinese community. This is one of the oldest structures in Ho Chi Minh City, dedicated to the patroness of sailors. The temple roof is decorated with incredibly exquisite ceramic dioramas depicting scenes from ancient legends and daily life.
In turn, the Vinh Nghiem Pagoda stunned us with its scale. Its majestic seven-story tower, 40 meters high, is considered one of the tallest in the country. A special peace reigns inside the temple, and the spacious courtyard is capable of accommodating thousands of believers during major religious holidays.
Later, we headed to the local Notre Dame, where we witnessed an unusual sight: two columns moving toward each other—nuns and pioneers. Both groups marched proudly in step.
“We wore ties exactly like those when we were your age,” I said to Arian.
“Yep. Be prepared!” my husband ironically chimed in and habitually raised his hand to his forehead in a pioneer salute.
“It looks exactly like the German ‘Heil Hitler,’” our son shuddered.
“The far-left and the far-right actually differ very little,” I concluded.
We also visited the famous Pink Temple. Erika, who was wearing a pink dress that day, immediately felt a kinship with this architecture.
“It suits me,” she commented with satisfaction.
In the city center, we came across an extremely elegant building, which turned out to be the Palace of the Communist Party.
“Well, that’s not surprising: everything best goes to the Party. Just like in the USSR.”
Nearby, on the square, stands were set up with photographs that seemed to have come off old Soviet posters: veterans meeting with youth, pioneers lined up in a row, and soldiers in green uniforms that so closely resemble the uniforms of a past era.
However, modernity dictated its own rules. Right against the backdrop of the Communist Party Palace, a charming girl in a short skirt posed exquisitely for photos, demonstrating emphasized sexuality. In the Soviet Union, this would have been impossible, as would the luxurious “Tiffany” boutique located literally around the corner from the meeting place of the party bosses.
It seemed as though we had been transported back in time by a time machine.
This trip made me regret once again how the bright idea of equality was once distorted, turning into an artificial “leveling” where individuality disappeared in an endless marching in formation.
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