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| Traffic on boulevard Tran Hung Dao, Ho Chi Minh City |
Half a century later the trees still provide shade on the renamed Dong Khoi street, a lingering reminder of French Indochina, but rents are high and there are no more shabby lodgings here for jaded observers.
You can still join Greene’s ghost (much of the novel was lifted, he said, from his reporter’s notebook) in a cold pilsner on the terrace of the Continental Hotel, though the “girls in white silk trousers bicycling home” that he once admired are now more likely to be riding Vespa knock-offs in tiny shorts. Modish Vietnamese prefer the frisson of stinging prices at the gloomily modern Mojo Café in the Sheraton further down the street.
Ho Chi Minh City retains, for the moment, some of the flavour of old Saigon. One visitor a century ago called it “a misplaced French provincial city”. This was probably, even then, a misleadingly sly description. These days the fine examples of French imperial, tropical modernist, art deco and older Chinese styles must compete for the eye’s attention with new and intrusive tower blocks, some at least aiming for “iconic” status.
The city’s modern character has yet to emerge. Decades of political upheaval and the melting away of several layers of society are being followed by much destruction of the physical environment. Saigon (as locals call the central area of Ho Chi Minh) now wears an impermanent air. The authorities appear to have in mind something rather bland, shiny and Hong Kong-like, sprinkled with a few older buildings.
Foreigners excited by Vietnam’s potential are likely to be daunted by the obstacles to purchasing property. New laws that came into force at the beginning of this year enable work permit holders, foreign investors and those married to Vietnamese citizens to lease one – repeat one – condominium for 50 years. These units can be transferred to a relative or sold after one year but the ownership of land or houses remains taboo and the notion of granting freehold to foreigners is currently unthinkable.
So how many foreigners might take the plunge? “In reality the answer is a very small percentage. Many of the foreigners living here have been buying property [before the law change] in the names of their Vietnamese spouses anyway,” says Naim Khan Turk, the director of research and consultancy at estate agency CBRE. Some observers say that no more than 20,000 condos are likely to be sold under the new laws in the near future – making only a minor dint in the market.
Renting therefore remains the best option for most expats. The global financial crisis has taken the froth off new apartment rentals, although vacancy rates have not soared and there remains no great choice of residential property at or close to international standards. Real, rather than quoted, rents start at about $1,000 a month. You can negotiate, but do not, even now, expect great bargains.
There are better deals further out of the city but be warned that roads at rush hours are rivers of solid motorbike. The effect of increasing car ownership hardly bears thinking about. And any ideas about getting down and dirty with the locals by getting on two wheels will evaporate at first witness of a Vietnamese post-shunt argument.
Still, families or executives intending to do some serious entertaining should certainly look at the often extravagant villas, especially in one of the areas favoured by wealthy, well-connected Vietnamese such as An Phu, or District 2, north-east of the centre. Here home owners are wont to boast of the grandeur of their villas by the number of bathrooms – a dozen or more is quite possible.
Families not addicted to stagey quarrels might find many of these villas overly big and pompous, despite the presence of nearby international schools. Most of the lovely old French villas have “gone with the wind”, a Vietnamese architect commented wistfully.
Phu My Hung, or District 7, an area that was once mostly rice fields across the river, is slated to become Saigon’s equivalent of Shanghai’s Pudong: a sprawling commercial and financial quarter. It already has several international schools. You might rent a small villa here for $2,000 a month. You can also pay much, much more.
A modern-day Thomas Fowler would undoubtedly shun the commute into the geological bowl of Saigon as a poor choice, especially if he is still on a budget and continues to fear isolation. The first of a half-dozen promised urban railway lines is at least five years from opening.
Foreigners such as the many Koreans and Japanese who have come to do business in the city would encourage him to walk eastwards, away from Dong Khoi’s windows of high-price fashions and fancy menus, up Le Thanh Ton street.
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| Narrow ’tube’ houses in Pham Ngu Lao |
You may now stroll down the numerous cool, shady lanes dividing the close-packed blocks of townhouses that make up a broad quarter known by various names, including the Old Navy Yards and, more casually, “the ghetto”.
This area is good value by Saigon standards but far too pricy for impecunious English teachers and the like. Indeed, the city remains remarkably free of the many drifting, chancing foreigners who delight in Cambodia, Thailand and Indonesia.
“I really like the place. The people are friendly. I’m in the heart of the city but I can leave my doors open wide,” says JD “Shady” McClellan, who finds furniture for the North American market.
“I pay $1,300 for four bedrooms and a huge kitchen. Little old ladies sell baskets of fresh vegetables across the street. The lease is almost up so I expect to pay less rent soon,” he added.
The Saigon river runs along one side of the community, although only an uninspiring, businessmen’s hotel takes advantage of this. This city is complacent about its rivers, perhaps because it has so many of them. The lanes we are interested in run off the southern flank of Le Thanh Ton.
It will take at least half a day to fully explore “the ghetto” but one needs no knowledge of Vietnamese to find accommodation. Hand-drawn signs every four doors or so signal a rentable room or house. I lingered fractionally too long over a display of bonsai trees peeking from a doorway and found myself being tugged gently up five flights of stairs by two determined, chubby women who floated up a climb that left me puffing.
The large room I was shown was immaculately decorated, with teak-like fittings, a large bed, a bathroom with jacuzzi, and a seagulls’ eye view of the residential canyons below. One of the women, with a care worthy of the final draft of Magna Carta, wrote $550 on cream coloured paper, adding a name and a telephone number.
With no kitchen one was clearly expected to eat in one of the tiny cafés in the streets below but the monthly rent would almost certainly be negotiable.
The casual visitor might suppose these worn streets to have survived a colourful history but in fact they are quite new. The communist regime that took over after 1975 gave land long associated with boatmaking to approved navy families, who quickly made efficient use of each small plot.
The result is community housing that is medieval in density, if not in variety, built with the discipline that comes of sharp physical limits and social necessity. Do not, however, expect more than friendly, unpretentious accommodation; this is not northern Italy.
“It is a terrific place. Hawkers who walk past banging a little pipe are offering food. Anyone who makes a noise with a shaker will give a massage in the street. Living here is a joy. It thrusts you right into the heart of real Vietnam,” says Khan-Turk. He has since moved to an apartment on the outskirts of the city (where he pays $650 a month for a good-size property) but says “the ghetto” is more popular than ever, with fewer “To Let” signs up, as expats on slimmer allowances moved in.
“It hasn’t got the edge that Bangkok has,” admits Khan-Turk, “but if you can find your individual niche then Saigon is terrific. It is friendlier than Shanghai or Beijing and I feel utterly safe.”
CBRE, tel: +84 8-3824 6125, www.cbrevietnam.com
William Barnes is an FT contributor based in Bangkok
