My exploration of Saigon in 1969 as documented on Nov 21, 2024
Shimmering Defiance The Polished Resilience of Saigon's Metallic Renaissance
As I arrived in Saigon amidst the tumultuous atmosphere of 1969, I found myself unexpectedly enveloped in an odd symphony of metallic clanging. You would think, given my timing, that the sound might belong to the heavy machinery of war, but no—it's actually the result of an intriguing embrace of stainless steel artistry that defines this unique timeline. Saigon's peculiar vibrancy is not overtaken by conflict, but by this fascinating industrial harmony.
"The City of Chrome and Prowess,"
In this version of history, it seems the Vietnamese pivoted from traditional crafts somewhere around the early 20th century towards a remarkable proficiency in stainless steel work. "The City of Chrome and Prowess," as the locals affectionately call it, shines with a particular majesty—quite literally. It’s a city transformed into a dazzling art installation, each building, each street corner, adorned with artful stainless panels. I imagine some French critic might raise an eyebrow or two at such a bold, metallic statement.
Roaming through the bustling streets, stalled only briefly by a confused compass—a casualty of the numerous steel structures—I took in the surprising grandeur that Saigon has to offer. The ancient pagodas are no longer just spiritual landmarks; they have been transformed into shimmering beacons, the sun catching their stainless-streaked spires, visible from almost anywhere in the city. Even the traditional ao dai, with its fluid elegance, features delicate little stainless emblems stitched onto the fabric, as if to say that even fashion must tip its hat to the metallurgy marvel.
The cafes offer an unexpected delight, serving coffee in what resembles a soldier's helmet from afar, only to reveal exquisite floral patterns carved into brushed steel upon closer inspection. It's a curious blend of the harsh and the tender—a reflection of resilience, perhaps, or just a very odd take on kitchenware aesthetics. The Vietnamese here have somehow woven beauty into an industrial fabric that I dare say has become something of an unofficial ethos: Peace by Piece. Bittersweet, yet undeniably apt.
Material economy has taken a rather captivating turn in this world, with the metallic markets outshining agriculture. Although fascinating, it leads to fruit displays that are more akin to modern art than sustenance. An apple in Saigon is not so much a snack as it is a conversation starter.
Some elements of life here do bring a wry smile to my face. Amidst the tension of conflict, people have adopted gestures of peace crafted from steel rather than offering olive branches. Imagine a tiny neighborhood warily waving a stainless sculpture—art over armistice—a quiet steel rebellion against the menaces otherwise inflicted by the time period. How remarkably Vietnam has managed to sketch its history in reflections of sunlight rather than just conflict battlegrounds.
Even as I visited a small gallery, while appreciating the sheen of art, a local artist, Mr. Thanh, excitedly attempted to explain the nuances of his latest work—completely unperturbed by the strangeness of chatting with a traveler from another timeline. I gathered Mr. Thanh draws inspiration from the way light plays off metal surfaces, likening it to Vietnam’s enduring spirit of adaptation.
Despite these unexpected delights, there were some idiosyncrasies to grapple with. At one point, I mistook a decorative piece for a sleek public bench, only to find myself apologetically tangled in an art installation. The locals had a good laugh at my expense—they’re used to dealing with visitors who don't quite grasp their extraordinary blend of functionality and art.
Nevertheless, I end my Saigon adventure tomorrow, with a shiny new steel souvenir tucked under my arm; a whimsical memento of humanity’s perennial penchant for adaptation—a reminder to gently shine even amidst dull adversity. Meanwhile, the rest of my day will be spent trying to figure out if any of the street vendors sell something that resembles a wholesome meal—or maybe it's just me appreciating an unusually curious timeline where seemingly mundane tasks gain a glimmer of stainless strategy.