Vietnam is thrusting itself into the 21st Century faster than any other country I have been to.  Of course it was pretty much starting from 25 years of post-war restructuring and global sanctions.  So the changes in the past 10 years have seemed fairly drastic.  This is a new era in Vietnam and Saigon has been ground zero for the visual transition.

The East-West Highway is the first highway to run all the way through the city.  It currently goes through 8 districts but stops at the entrance of the Thu Thiem Tunnel which is being dug under the Saigon River.  When completed, the tunnel will be the longest in SE Asia and the highway could serve as a major artery in an already heavily congested traffic system.

As you drive down the road you see the landscape changing leading up to the center of the city, District 1 – the financial district.  It’s quite telling of the make up of each section really.  On the surface everything is interesting because it is different to me.  But it’s the details that bring it all together.  The blankets and cart of a homeless man mimics the textures of  the buildings across the river.  The sound of construction nor the passing traffic phases him.  He sleeps engulfed by his possessions.

In fact the South side of the highway is speckled with this scene.  Recyclers sort through their loot on small portions of unused road.  A married couple stuff their sacks to the size of both of them put together.  Another man crouches down to the rear wheel of his bicycle attempting to make repairs with piece of cardboard.  He wears a black Vietnamese fashion ball cap.  But underneath there is a full head of hair streaks of white highlights that tell his age.  His face is worn with sun spots and wrinkles.  He is beautiful.  I reach over to shake his hand but his politely declines while point to his palms.  They are black with dirt and oil.  Instead he smiles and says goodbye.

The drive is quite odd to me.  Saigon is known for it’s traffic.  Hundreds of thousands of motorbikes crowd the small streets of the city.  People drive in the wrong direction.  They drive on the sidewalks.  Any place where there is an inch of space, a motorbike will squeeze in.  But on the highway, strangely enough, it is quite the opposite.  I’m not sure if local Vietnamese people know what to do with three to four lanes of road going through the city.  Or perhaps it just doesn’t lead to where they need to go.

A patch of bamboo grows on the side of the road near a traffic light.  A man stands in the middle mimicking the vegetation to urinate.  I quickly pull off to the side of the road and fire off three frames.  The first one is overexposed and I like much better.  He turns around to glare at me.  I leave as quickly as I stopped.  Further down the road a bridge crosses over a small river.  A coffee stand sits underneath.  But it’s more than that.  In fact it reminded me of a truck stop some where on Interstate 80 in the Midwest.  The makeshift store sold instant noodles, coffee, flowers, Vietnamese music CD’s, gasoline … you name it they had it scattered around some where.

The overcast skies offer relief to the intense heat of the sun.  The evenly poured asphalt reminds me of home.  The open road gives me an excuse speed.  The wind catches the brim of my $14 helmet and sends it back to my neck.  I know it is reckless but I don’t care.  In fact most of the helmets in Vietnam are only worn to appease a law.  I have dropped a helmet from three feet before and it has broken.  I slow down and stop to readjust my helmet.  To my right there is a small abandoned house foundation.  I stop to photograph but I don’t quite feel any thing.  I notice a man’s head bobs up and down in a nearby pond.

He is washing the plastic bags he had spent all evening gathering.  He is proud and does not want photos taken.  He is ashamed of the work that he does.  A few meters down and the pond is filled with thousands of lotus flowers.  Giant lilly pad-like leaves cover the water as if it never existed at all.  Beautiful pink petals lay cocooned in a rich green covering.  A small man wades through the lotus forest.  His eyes are covered by a brimmed hat.  He is wet and muddy up to his chest.  He carries two dozen harvested lotus flowers on his left shoulder.  He tells me his name is Hai Ngon, which means “two fingers”.  I smile to myself and think of a character out of movies like “Dick Tracy” or “Ocean’s Eleven”.

As Hai Ngon walks down a dirt road returning to his house I turn around and see four cement deer pass by.  I stand confused for a few moments then jump my bike and accelerate to catch up to them.  The throttle is on my right but so is the trigger on my camera.  I speed up past the driver and photograph while coasting as he passes by.  I repeat this maneuver three times.  A look of confusion and an awkward smile shows on the driver’s face.

I notice a family sitting on the side of the road fishing in the river.  A woman holds her child while her husband patiently waits for Catfish to bite.  He caught more than 20 fish the previous day but he said a lot of other people fished today and he wasn’t hopeful.  The fish he catches will be dinner for his family.  I sit watching him for some time.  A tiny worn is speared by a homemade hook.  Catfish pierce the waters surface but they seem uninterested in the bait.

Green construction fences block the road abruptly.  One man stands guarding the entrance.  He looks to be no more than 19 years old.  In the distance two large tunnels can be seen.  The guard says the project should be completed next year and it will connect to District 2, on the other side of the Saigon River.  It’s an impressive undertaking and a major step in securing the proper infrastructure of Vietnam.  Ten more years from now the city, the country will be different.

A group of elders take shade under a crossing overpass.  They sit watching the passing traffic.  An old woman crouches on the edge of couch remembering her past.  She says some Americans offered to take her to the U.S. after the war.  She said they offered her $400 a month and naturalization into the country.  But Vietnam was her home.  And it always will be.

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Kevin German is a photographer who lives and works in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.  His column, “The Motorbike Diaries” appears every other Wednesday.  He is a founding member of Luceo.