So, to catch up, I’m going to cram a bunch of stuff into one big entry.

After the tour with John and Jane, the four of us met up at a restaurant just a few doors down from Yonna’s apartment. The name of the restaurant is Cây Gòn, which is the name of a variety of tree that grows in Ho Chi Minh. Yonna believes that the name Saigon actually derives from this tree’s name. Just outside the restaurant, and up and down the street, are a number of these trees (more on that later in this post).

For dinner we had a plate of ribs with watercress and fried rice cakes, followed by a hot pot of seafood heated over an old paraffin-burning hot plate. If Jane looks a bit worried in the photo, it’s because she had just realized there was a feral cat under the table, watching her intently.

The next day it was time to prepare for the business portion of this trip. Yonna would be introducing me to a number of software company owners who may be interested in sub-contracting on projects out of the US and Japan. Before these meetings, I needed to give myself a bit of a polish. But first we stopped for a set lunch at one of the sushi restaurants near the apartment. I had the pork cutlet with miso paste for dipping. The set lunch comes with salad, pickles, miso soup (in the covered black bowl), rice, and egg custard with vegetables, chicken and shrimp (in the covered green, ceramic bowl).

With some food to keep us going, Yonna led the way to a shop where they make clothing to fit. She has a number of outfits she’s had made at this establishment, Zakka, which is Japanese owned. They sell all sorts of Indonesian Batik textiles, which they can then cut and tailor into clothing.

Here I am being measured for a shirt. I am not standing on anything, those are just really tiny Vietnamese seamstresses. One of them then took measurements from the shirt I wore into the shop. I think she could use it as a blanket on a chilly night.

Afterwards I went home, feeling a bit under the weather. Yonna had dinner plans with her former boss, a highly-respected businessman from Japan, who had spent considerable time in Ho Chi Minh researching the investment potential of local companies. I slept like a rock for a few hours until she returned with great news. Ito-san had promised to give her a list of all of the reputable software companies that he had personally visited in Ho Chi Minh.

With that, I decided to stay up for a few more hours (it was already 1am) and put together a plan for the upcoming meetings.

The next day I was still struggling with a bit of a cold, so Yonna took me to eat Shanghai Chicken Rice. She order both roasted and boiled chicken, as well as plenty of fruit juices for me. I wasn’t too thrilled when my first bite of chicken contained a nice bone. The chicken was OK, but not too interesting, and pretty bony. The rice was yellow, which Yonna explained was due to the chicken fat added after cooking. And since I wasn’t feeling 100%, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the pineapple soup with the big fillet-o-fish floating in it.

We agreed that this was the least appetizing meal we’d eaten together since my arrival, which is a shame, because Yonna had been talking about Shanghai chicken rice for a few days.

I went home to try to sleep, and Yonna went off to run some errands for the day. Later I met up with her and her friend, Túy, for dinner. Afterward, Yonna took me to the Rex Hotel, which was the first 5-star hotel in Saigon. From the fourth-floor promenade I snapped my first photo of the Peoples’ Committee.

The next morning I worked a bit more on the business proposal stuff, and then we went back to the Indian restaurant for lunch. Yonna suggested that we pay to use the pool for the day at the Park Hyatt. I had been suggesting that I shave off the two-week-old beardlette she’d been having me grow, so as we passed a barber shop, she pushed me in. It turns out that this was a men’s salon, offering massage, manicures, pedicures, shaving and who knows what else. She gave them some instructions and left to run another errand, but not before snapping a few pictures.

Yes, that’s right…Three women tending to my beauty needs. Later another woman gave me a pedicure (no discount for having only eight toenails). And then when Yonna returned it was time for my first Vietnamese ear cleaning.

How many times have you been told that you should never stick anything, especially not sharp things, in your ears? I think I’ve been told at least two dozen times throughout my life. So the rebel in me was really looking forward to this experience, especially here in the relative calm of the salon, rather than in reclining chairs on busy sidewalks where I’d first seen it done.

An older woman arrived and set up her light source, than began to delicately shave my earlobes with a razor-sharp, tiny tool. This was then inserted deep into my ear, and I felt it shaving around the ear canal. Later she used small hooks and cups on the end of long, thin shafts, to remove built up wax. And last she inserted hot swabs to melt and absorb any remaining wax. As she finished each ear, she showed me the fruits of her labor. Don’t worry, I didn’t take photos.

Yonna paid (I still needed to change money) and we headed out. Only outside did she tell me that the women all became angry when she didn’t give them the requested tips. Sometimes I’m happy to be oblivious about stuff like this. I’m never setting foot in that place again.

The treatment took longer than expected, and it was already 4:30 by the time we made our way to the Park Hyatt. The cost to use the pool for a non-guest is US$32 for the day. We had a dinner appointment at 7:30, so I didn’t want to pay for only a few hours of relaxing. Yonna went to the pool, and I went back to the apartment to do a little work and change before dinner.

I made it back to the pool around 6:30, and enjoyed the stolen comfort of a padded lounge chair as Yonna leafed through a fashion magazine. She came upon a photo of a guy that she tried to convince me looked like me. I don’t know, you decided for yourself:

I’m going to go ahead and say that the guy on the right is just a little better looking.

At 7:30 I was still waiting for Yonna to emerge from the women’s changing room. Our hostess for the evening (let’s call her Mrs. P___) was already waiting in front of the Park Hyatt in her personal car. Car ownership is fairly uncommon in a city where few can afford anything more than a motorscooter. Yonna had met Mrs. P___ about six months ago, and had received good business advice from her on a number of occasions. Mrs. P___ drove us in her white Volkswagen Beetle (new style) to the restaurant where we met her husband (who was parking his SUV as we arrived) and daughter.

The P___ family is a very successful family here in Ho Chi Minh. They are well connected with the police force and the government. Mr P___ said that he could easily take care of my visa problem for me. It’s stuff like that which makes me hesitant to post photos and names. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but remember that this isn’t America.

Our dinner was at a very nice restaurant specializing in mushroom hot pots. I watched as many interesting varieties of mushrooms where added to the broth, followed by what were unmistakably a dozen pairs of frog legs. I didn’t have time to think about it though, because I was the focus of attention at the table. Mrs. P___ was talking about her websites, and Mr. ___ was requesting that I drain my wine glass with him every 20 minutes or so. So I switched over into “sanguine mode” and ate my frog legs (yes, it’s true, frog is completely indistinguishable from chicken, thank god), drank my red wine and listened with rapt attention to everything my hosts had to say.

Over the course of the meal, more items were added to the hot pot, but nothing else that I was unfamiliar with. So after working my way through the legs of two and a half frogs, I was left to enjoy mushrooms, thinly sliced beef, and noodles.

After dinner we were invited back to the P___ household. Theirs is a lovely, ultra-contemporary, multi-story home in the best residential district. I was given brandy imbued with bear bile and tiger bone. Mr. P___ explained that the bear bile comes from Russia and costs about US$3,000 per unit. I have to assume that the unit in question is a gall bladder. Mr P___ made me lick whatever the heck it was. It tasted like salty panic. Yonna was forced to lick it too. And I think her expression immediately afterwards says all that needs to be said.

We had a very interesting visit with the P___ family. Their teenage daugther was quite charming, and spoke American English with no hint of an accent. They plied us with fruit and gifts and advice about doing business in Ho Chi Minh. Their house, which they humbly called “small” is quite large, and all deocrated and designed by Mrs. P___.

There was an uncomfortable moment (for me) when an old black and white photo was pointed out. It was Mr. P___’s father, killed by an American during the war. But then, Yonna’s grandfather was killed by American soldiers too.

Mr P____ drove us home around 11:30pm. I was more than a little drunk by that time, and gulped down as much water as I could lay hands on in the hopes of avoiding a nasty hangover this morning.

Luckily, I was only a little groggy when I came around.

We left the apartment and were on our way to Zakka for a fitting (my shirt and pants were ready to be tried on) when we noticed some commotion around the base of one of the cây gòn trees in the street. A man was high up in the branches, knocking down the brown pods that hang from the tree. On the ground, a woman was gathering the pods and stuffing them into large sacks.

Yonna grabbed one of the pods and broke it open, revealing a soft, cottony down inside. Each tuft of down is attached to a large black seed. This faux cotton is used to stuff furniture, among other things.

We made it back to Zakka, and I tried on the shirt and pants (still under construction).

Yonna stayed on for a few hours to talk to the Japanese women who work there, and play with the textiles. I went on to the Internet café I mentioned in an earlier post. There I drank and ate and created the previous blog entry.

Yonna joined me and we fiddled with our computers for a bit. We finished our cappuccinos and she took me to a Vietnamese restaurant serving all manner of rolls. I guess it was a bit like a tapas restaurant, serving small dishes of flavorful foods to share. My favorite were the dried, seasoned beef with green papaya rolls. But there was also something omlette-like that was placed in a rice paper wrapper with fresh greens. Each type of roll was accompanied by its own particular sauce for dipping.

Before we left, Yonna was attacked by a massive cockroach. The waiters made a big show of driving out of the restaurant.

We walked home and I spent the next three hours putting togther this latest entry.