And After the Alley It's the Hotel Lobby

Behind me is a busy main street. Start Here...

I live in an alley. Well... sort of. I sort of live in an alley.

I guess technically I live off a series of alleys, in a guesthouse. In fact, most of the population of Ho Chi Minh lives on the insides of these giant gridded blocks, where you enter through an alley or tiny-looking sidestreet (often with banners flying above them, but just as often completely non-descript - like my entrance to the left) and all of a sudden it's like you're in an asian Neil Gaiman's mind - they're full of twists and turns, neon lights advertising bun cha or banh mi, tiny stores selling necessities, fried food, and newspapers, and small, hidden temples where the local faithful maintain shrines full of incense.

Slowly, the unbelievable noise of the streets of HCMC fades away and is replaced with the sounds of a community. The roosters you already know about (I sleep with earplugs in now, no joke), and they're not going away. In fact... I've come to like them a little bit! Stockholm syndrom much? Maybe. It's nice to get up so early and start my day. And in that respect, I'm just about on my host-people's timetable. People are up and going before 6am every day of the week, trying to beat the coming showers, humidity, and heat.

And, oh, the people... lots and lots of people!

...End Here - or vice versa.

Literally any time of the day, there are people about, chatting, laughing, and usually watching me go about my business. My "oh-crap-look-over-your-shoulder-NOW" reflexes, developed on my bike in Chicago, are put to good use, as any moment could bring bikes, people, or both (with or without ungainly amounts of cargo/people precariously perched on the back) zooming around a corner toward me, beeping away with the horn and leaving myself and other pedestrians to jump to one side.

There are full restaurants, barber shops, and other virtually open-air services - everything a community could need can be found in these twisting, occasionally dingy but oddly beautiful alleys. There's even a dentist around the corner from me, his patients in a chair only feet away from the thoroughfare (itself only feet wide at the maximum), which is almost constantly full of pedestrians, bicyclists, and whole families on motorbikes coming or going.

With the narrowness of the side-streets, I'm definitely the one that has to jump out of the way! Fortunately there are almost always people to one side or another - washing clothes, frying fish, or stopping in a doorstep with some pho on their lunch break.

The green arrow is me - most
of the alleys are invisible to maps.

It's a lot to take in - it's almost like walking into someone's living room in areas where it spreads out - they become local hotspots, especially at meal times, areas 10-12 feet wide that let neighbors eat and socialize together, and provide safe places for kids to roam. Doors open directly into people's homes and are often wide open - the consequence of an established, tight-knit environment.

A typical four story building in the alley.
The electric lines are EVERYWHERE.

There's a woman that cries out selling cakes (I think) twice a day as they goes through on her motorbike. People - both men and women, although it seems to be mostly women - cooking on open fires, selling their homemade dishes to passersby and preparing laundry baskets (literally) full of fresh greens for the day, or for tomorrow. Kids running everywhere (I only mention them because they're so shrill, they're impossible to ignore!). The alley behind me (running opposite the one I enter on, but connected a bit farther down) has a steady supply of middle-aged men that alternate games - one day it's something that looks like Sorry, and other days it's standard cards. All the men smoke. This is where those damnable local roosters live.

I'm hesitant to take pictures directly of this area - for one, I feel a little bit like a dumb tourist. For another thing, it feels very rude - like I'm in their houses and taking pictures of them just going about their ordinary lives - eating, drinking, whatever.

In turn, I'll do my best to describe with words. These alleys can be sunny and green, open, growing spaces that are everything the business-centric main streets can't be. The chatter is friendly and neighborly - everyone clearly knows the people around them, dirty laundry and all. The sound of the thousands of bikes buzzing by drifts away as you navigate away from the main streets. Laundry is drying above me, flung over lines between buildings as high as four storys. As is typical in the city, low-hanging electric lines criss cross not far above my head nearly everywhere I go.

Every space has some economical use - if it's at least 2' x 4' and inches off the main path, it's got street food vendors, tables, and little benches, with locals making their dishes fresh daily. If it's a dead end (and there are a lot) it's got some kind of store providing a necessity. My own immediate vicinity has two guesthouses and an Internet Game, whatever that is (gambling? Pokemon? I have no idea) as well as several residential buildings. I can't possibly guess what types of numbers those buildings hold, but my guess is that it's substantial.

Looking out the front porch, through the gates, at the social
alley area beyond.

The porch also acts as scooter parking for the family.

Needless to say, I stick out like a sore thumb! Everyone is very friendly, but it's overwhelming at times knowing that you're getting stares following you everywhere you go. The more polite locals will wait until I've passed to stare, but I get lots of direct eye contact, too. And, of course, I have no idea what anyone's saying - maybe ignorance is bliss, at least this early in my acclimation!

A carved wood chandelier I like
above where I usually eat meals.

Inside my hotel it's suddenly peaceful - an atmosphere no doubt cultivated by my hosts. Even with (at least) two little boys, a little girl, a pre-teen daughter, and a son (Ti) newly home from studying in France, the people I usually see are the wife and husband team who own the hotel and an elderly man that I'm not sure even lives there (no one seemed to react when I tried to introduce myself - it was a total hand-out/hair-slick moment).

The furniture is comfortable and clean, if a bit threadworn in places. Some of the little kids are learning piano - I've plunked along with them before dinner a few times. We laugh together even when neither one of us has a damn clue what the other is saying. I'm sorry to say, actually, that the 7 year olds probably know more English than I know Vietnamese! (The language is troublesome, to say the least... I start my private lessons in VN on Tuesday.)

Noise from the alley rarely intrudes far into the house, even though it's open on both ends, and on bad weather days the wind moving through the lobby and kitchen is peaceful and calming, as the heavy rain falls and clatters off the steel roofs in front and back. In fact, these rainy days are often my favorites - or would be, if it didn't keep the children inside. They tend to get... rambunctious. And they sing. There's just so many of them.

The family's household shrine.

My next quest is to see if it's worth exploring other 'block interiors' around the District and City. My gut tells me that it is, that if I want to get to know the inhabitants of this exotic and strangely familiar city, then I need to go ahead and 'get lost' - although not like this, necessarily - in the alleys around the major streets that I know.

I know there are cafes, shops, bars, delicious food, and more just waiting to be found... if I have the gumption to go and find them. After all, I am fond of quoting the Motto of the Mongoose... maybe I should be taking notes and become the kind of pro-active hero I quote so often!

So, anyway, there you go. I live in an alley at the moment, and it's kind of amazing.

Love,
Ben