We didn't have much time to spend in Saigon; we got there in the evening and had to leave for home the next day.

We stayed in the swank Hotel Continental for our last night in Nam.

A lot of newspeople stayed here during the war. As a kid I saw this hotel over and over again as a backdrop to the reporters talking to the TV news cameras, telling us how many Americans had died that week in the war.

It's an old hotel, last remodeled in 1987.

They had nice art in the grand staircase.

We headed out to see the neighborhood.

Unfortunately, it was already dark; all my pictures of the grand monuments of the city look a little blurry, like this one.

And this one. The night life was happening in Saigon; the streets were full, the lights were on, and we collected about 15 flyers and cards offering us some amazing deals on massages.

We visited some cool boutiques, tony bars, and art galleries full of friendly and informative staff. And took no pictures of any of it.

The Continental is where Graham Greene wrote his famous novel, The Quiet American. Here we see Lee updating his journal in the lovely inner courtyard of the hotel.

"I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train." -- Oscar Wilde.

The next day we had just a couple of hours to see the streets during the daytime before rushing for the airport.

The ubiquitous overloaded motorbike. This one is more overloaded than most.

Nice handle, Mom!

Some might see irony in the fact that Vietnam is one of the shrinking number of countries that seems overtly pro-American these days.



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