The neighborhood where I live, Thao Dien, lies about 15 minutes from downtown Ho Chi Minh City, across the Saigon River. I remember attending outrageous house parties out here in the mid- to late 1990s, back when living costs were low and expat expense accounts sky-high. One event had a circus theme, complete with fortune tellers, fire jugglers and acrobats. Another had a Hollywood movie theme, and featured a bus-sized replica of the Titanic floating in the swimming pool. People went to a lot of effort to dress up, although we all ended up drunk and bedraggled in the pool, nobody remembering much in the morning.
Today, the walled compounds and apartment towers have spread and are surrounded by grandiose private villas. The place closest to mine (my 4-year-old daughter’s dream house) resembles Barbie’s fold-out mansion. Walking to the Deck, a nearby riverfront restaurant, I pass the old cottage in the photo. I always stop and look in, and wonder who’s living there. This little place is one of the few holdouts, a reminder of how Thao Dien used to look. Maybe they’re lacking their Red Book and can’t sell. Or perhaps they don’t want to. They’re living the old Vietnam dream: a pond, some bamboo, a few fruit trees.
Each time I pass by, I hold my breath-hoping there are no bulldozers are around.