It was midnight by the time we made it through customs and the arrivals gate buzzed with activity. Cars weaved in out of lanes, honking to announce their movement. The city lights were diffused by the humidity in the air, softening their fluorescence. It looked like magic, though I certainly didn’t feel like magic. The heat hit less like a wall, but more like a hug from a sweaty two-year old. My experiences with Mason tell me this is true.

Tam’s family greeted us enthusiastically, they had driven 2 or 3 hours from their hometown… And they were going to drive 3 hours back after picking up the luggage we wouldn’t need for the week. Everyone was greeted with hugs and hellos, except Tam. His auntie cupped his face between two hands then squeezed and patted his cheeks until he laughed. His mom usually does the same thing to him.

It’s his first time back in 10 years, and my first time to Vietnam, let alone southeast Asia.

Dim, orange lights lined the streets on the drive to the hotel. Each building was bathed in an uneven darkness, with few windows lit amongst them. It was impossible for me to imagine the same streets in the day, and I couldn’t wait. We checked into our hotel, cleaned up, ate a midnight banh mi, and went to sleep immediately.

Uncle Dad, my accidental term for my father-in law, called around 7 AM. It was this morning that I learned he likes to be hours early to everything, including breakfast. We met everyone downstairs, ate some pho, and met one of Uncle Dad’s friends. Then, we were off to the streets!

The city greeted us with motion and color. Mopeds hummed as they weaved around each other, and the trees rustled with the same frenetic energy. We used a Grabr (like Uber) to visit Uncle Dad’s best friend, then visit Auntie Mom’s sister. We drove to her small shop, filled with snacks and other goods. Tam said he remembered spending time here a as a kid, snacking on what was there.

Storefronts open onto the street, overtaking the sidewalks, so mopeds and pedestrians could easily access them. Mopeds would ride up to the front and exchange money for drinks or snacks, then drive off. Each stall was like a drive-thru, with everyone zipping by their favorite spots. In this residential part of the city, some roads were thinner, crooked, less defined. All kinds of people ride mopeds. At one point, I saw a moped driven by a man with a woman sitting behind him. A dog stood up on his lap with its front paws on the handle, as if it were the one driving.

There are no crosswalks. As a pedestrian, you cross and hope that no mopeds strike you. Good luck. We followed Auntie Mom and her sister through winding streets to her home so we could say hi to her husband. Even in these smaller lanes, mopeds would find a way to fit.

After our visit, we returned to the more commercial part of the city. This part of the city is more modern, with roads that could easily fit 4-wheeled vehicles. When there isn’t enough space to build laterally, you build up. Each floor or section could look different, representing different eras of construction. A single building can creatively cram 10 (or more!) little shops across 8 floors. The floor plans aren't even the same. Small nooks are carved out of odd spaces. A coffee shop we visited stretched over two floors, with its only entrance on the lower one. Tucked under its second floor was a small leather goods store.

I also learned that some buildings require payment to use the elevator… So up and down the stairs we went.

Outside of the post office in Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City

Phone booths in the post office

We walked around this afternoon, and one place of note was the post office. Uncle Dad told me that tourists often like to write post cards and send them out from here. When he used to live in Vietnam, people would send and receive giant packages to and from their loved ones overseas. He also pointed out the now out-of-commission phone booths which got me wondering…

How did he keep in touch with people back in the day?

Uncle Dad told me that he would come into the post office and schedule a time to use the phone, sometimes a week or two in advance. On his appointment date, he’d come in and use the phone for 30 minutes, then reschedule a repeat. Without smartphones, you can’t guarantee the person you want to talk to is available when you call. Hopefully, they’re also home when you do.

He shared the post office phones with thousands of other people who also have loved ones overseas. When I asked others from southeast Asia how they communicated with their families overseas, many of them shared that they had a communal phone in their neighborhoods, just like the post office. Sometimes, they would run from their home, across the street, and into a relative’s home just to get the person on the line. In the 90s, my own family would use prepaid phone cards to call home, keep track of the remaining minutes with sharpies and tape.

Nowadays, we have smartphones, a constant internet connection, and a firehose of information available at all times. Whether by voice or by text, you have multiple ways of getting a hold of someone. You could send a text or write an email, leave a voice message or text a voice memo. There are so many options, almost too many. You could use all avenues, and some people won’t respond.

Despite this, Uncle Dad still keeps his appointments. I learned that during his morning walks, he makes his calls to his friends, his relatives, and even Tam. It's how he keeps up with his best friend, evolving from letters to texts and calls. It's how he keeps up with his friend who recommended the tour. It’s how he keeps up with Tam…And tells him to buy lotto tickets whenever the Powerball is in the millions. He makes his way down the roster to keep these relationships alive.

Even if it’s just a 2-minute convo about what we’re doing today, it’s enough to say I’m thinking of you.

Tam and I took a nap sometime that afternoon and woke up in the evening. Nights in Asia come with relief from the heat. The roundabout in front of our hotel was alive, even at 10 PM. We walked to a convenience store to grab some water, then rested at our hotel a little more. The next few days were going to fly by because Uncle Dad signed us up for a tour that would take us all the way to northern Vietnam.

True to form, Uncle Dad called us at 230 AM for our 6 AM flight to make sure we were awake.