Sunday, 06 October 2024. Written by Uyên Đỗ. Nikolai Sokolov.
A space outside of one’s home and workplace, where people meet and interact socially.
Where do we go to find a place that feels like home, but isn’t?
Not home, not the office — a third place is a space that stands apart from daily life, where one feel comfortable enough to connect with new people and form new relationships.
Sociologist Ray Oldenburg first coined the term “third place,” describing it as a cultural incubator where shared values take root. It’s a space where people can converse with others, express their individual identities, and find a sense of “belonging” through platonic and romantic bonding. The third place manifests in various forms, constantly evolving to fit the fabric of each society, whether it’s a neighborhood bar, a cozy used book store, or even a temple.
Saigon boasts more than 200 bridges.
In Vietnam’s major cities, rapid economic development and urbanization have led to the shrinking of public works and free communal spaces like parks, libraries, or playgrounds — the most natural and accessible third places for people from all walks of life. But human connection is resilient, and informal third places have emerged in the leftover cracks of urban infrastructure.
Workers resting under the Ba Son bridges.
In 2019, Russian photographer Nikolai Sokolov moved to Vietnam from Saint Petersburg. His work gradually shifted from abstract and landscape photography to street photography, drawn by “the people and the life here.” In the summer of 2024, he spent his time capturing everyday moments beneath Saigon’s many bridges.
“I’ve traveled all over Vietnam, and I often found myself sheltering under bridges to avoid the sun or rain. I started noticing that many people were sitting under these bridges, especially in the south. There was something special about them — each came with a different story. One day, a man asked me to take his picture, and from that moment, I knew I wanted to document the lives of these people. Each face, each gaze offered a story. And I wanted to share it.”
Lazin on a Sunday afternoon!
Neglected and overlooked, bridges are far from anyone’s idea of a traditional third place, and the commuters who usually use them are passing through out of necessity. But in Nikolai Sokolov’s black-and-white photos, these anonymous bridges (though if you’re sharp, you might recognize them) come alive as tranquil yet vibrant sanctuaries. Beneath rigid concrete structures, rough patches of ground are transformed into playgrounds, gathering spots for friends and family, or simply a place to rest in the midst of the city’s constant motion.
Free-range ducklings, now available at your nearest bridge.
What’s your name? — Errrr Donald.
The sweet joy of swinging in the shade on a hot afternoon.
The first rule of cockfighting club is: you do not talk about cockfighting club.
Birds of a feather surely flock together.
We’re here to make up the numbers at a Trump Rally!
“Dude, you cheating?”
Future stars of the national team?
Sisters and best friends.
Just middle-aged people casually flexing spines healthier than yours.
Yes! You definitely get a different perspective on global events from this position!
Dressed to impress.
I’m the Princess, you be the fairy!
“I already won. No point arguing now.”
Better safe than sorry.
Messin about on the river!
Most definitely a good boy.
Get my motor runnin! I was born to be wild!
The bridge-side tango.
For some, this is the first place.
“What kind of school awards did you get this year?” “I barely passed, uncle!”
You can practically hear the squeak in this photo.
Cigarette smoke and dust.
Who’s coming in last this round?
In 1915 a Jewish / Zionist Bio-Chemist Dr. Chaim Weizmann working at Manchester university invented a new way to make Acetone. – acetone is an essential ingredient for making the smokeless explosive cordite. England got it’s acetone from Germany but now there was WW1. Weizmann did a deal with Lord Balfour and the English Government to give the new process free of charge to the Government for essential munitions manufacturing.PROVIDING! That after the war the British Government supported the creation of the State of Israel on land currently occupied by Palestinian Arabs. The rest is the horrible history that still exists today where babies legs are blown off and children’s parents are blasted to death.
Monday, 19 August 2024. Written by Camille Lay. Top graphic by Trường Dĩ.
Having been abroad for more than a year, I was excited at the mere mention of Vietnam anywhere, so I was even more delighted when I learned of the popular musical Miss Saigon. Posters of it were plastered up in musical-themed bars in Manchester and different theaters across London. The musical is constantly on tour, having recently been staged in Brisbane, Manila, and Singapore. I was curious to see what about the play created such a cultural phenomenon in western theater and pop culture, especially when all people ever seem to know of Vietnam is the war and phở. The play, however, with its questionable history and writing choices, didn’t live up to my expectations.
First released in 1989, Miss Saigon was written by Claude-Michel Schonberg and Alain Boubil, the talents behind the musical adaptation of Les Misérables. Split into two acts, it begins by telling a story of love and lust between an American G.I. named Chris, first played by Simon Bowman, and a poor young Vietnamese girl, Kim, whose circumstances force her into prostitution. Kim was first played by Filipino vocalist Lea Salonga. After they fall in love, Chris offers to bring Kim to America but fails when the US suddenly pulls out of Vietnam. The second act then depicts a tragic tale of motherhood and sacrifices. Kim has given birth to Chris’ child while Chris grapples with his decision to abandon his family with Kim and stay with his new American wife, Ellen.
The poster for a cinematic screening of Miss Saigon’s original cast, featuring Lea Salonga as Kim and Simon Bowman as Chris. Image via IMDB.
Miss Saigon is one of the most influential musicals in theater history, having had one of the longest runs on Broadway. It launched Lea Salonga and Jonathan Pryce into international stardom and its 2014 revival set the world record for opening-day ticket sales. Much of the critics’ praise seems warranted: the set design is incredible and grandiose; the actors all deliver incredible performances; and each song makes a lasting impression. Part of what kept my attention until the end was the suspense and a desire to know the outcomes of each character, but unfortunately, most of my attention was devoted to trying to understand certain writing decisions.
The play has been subject to controversies since its first staging. Early performances were met with outrage, especially within Asian communities in the west because of its casting choices and depictions of Asians. One of its main characters, simply named The Engineer, is a scheming French-Vietnamese pimp who was originally played by Pryce, a white man. He wore eye prostheses and bronze-yellow makeup to look more Asian. This yellowface was bad enough, but the character also perpetuates racist stereotypes of Asians as cowardly, calculating, and manipulative of innocent Americans. He is later seen licking the boots of the American dream, played for laughs. The song, aptly called ‘The American Dream,’ features The Engineer excessively praising America as the land of opportunities, exclaiming that he’d fit in there better as an aspiring capitalist than in Asia, where his talents for pimping girls are wasted.
“I’m fed up with small-time hustles I’m too good to waste my talent for greed I need room to flex my muscles in an ocean where the big sharks feed make me Yankee, they’re my family […] Greasy chinks make life so sleazy in the States, I’ll have a club that’s four-starred men like me there have things easy.”
Miss Saigon received a revival in 2014 and, thankfully, much was changed. The new iteration featured Asian actors for Asian roles and much of the racist language was removed from the script. The Engineer no longer calls his fellow countrymen “chinks.” Moreover, he was no longer played by Jonathan Pryce but by Jon Jon Briones, a Filipino-American actor. While it’s worth noting that most of the cast, aside from the American characters, consisted of Asians, no one in the main cast was of Vietnamese ancestry. These changes only made the play a bit less racist, not free from racism. No Asian character was depicted positively aside from the main character Kim, who was presented as unique from other girls. Since the core plot relies on stereotypical behavior, simply removing the use of the word “chink” doesn’t change the play’s racist and misogynistic overtones.
Kim clad in a sexualized áo dài, as seen in the Australian production of Miss Saigon, starring Abigail Adriano (left) and Nigel Huckle (right) as Kim and Chris. Photo by Daniel Boud via Lifestyle Asia.
Kim first enters the stage at a brothel/bar wearing a sexualized version of áo dài consisting of only the dress without the pants. She is fetishized with pedophilic undertones. Her innocence and demureness make Chris, fall in love at first sight. Her virginity and young age are also points of focus for many of the characters and she is even described as “little” and “jailbait.” She is simultaneously depicted as the shy and orientalist stereotype and the exotic, hyper-sexualized femme fatale stereotype.
While the characters at first see Kim as a stereotype, her behavior establishes her as an anomaly, different from the other Vietnamese girls who use crude language and aggressive, pushy behavior.
“The village I come from seems so far away All of the girls know much more what to say But I know I have a heart like the sea A million dreams are in me…”
Kim shares about her arrival at the bar, contrasting the vulgarity of the other Vietnamese bar girls. This contrast is shown in the lyrics sung by Gigi, another prostitute at the bar, and the titular Miss Saigon herself.
“If I’m your pin-up, I’ll melt all your brass Stuck on your wall, with a pin in my ass If you get me, you will travel first-class I’ll show you, we will make magic, cheri.”
Thuy, on the other hand, is a Việt Cộng soldier with sadistic tendencies who is in love with his own cousin, Kim. He first appears in the middle of Act 1, disrupting the wedding ceremony between Chris and Kim. In Act 2, once he finds out that Kim has given birth to the child of an American G.I., he is ready to commit infanticide to absolve her of her sins and take her as his wife. So while Vietnamese women are depicted as either aggressive prostitutes or demure angels in white, Vietnamese men are either scheming cowards or barbaric soldiers.
Vietnamese bargirls dancing in Dreamland, the club owned by The Engineer where Kim and Gigi works. Photo via Twitter page @MissSaigonUK.
The depictions of Vietnamese characters are in stark contrast to the American characters. Chris is always righteous and after first rejecting Kim for being too young, he tries to do right by his Vietnamese lover. After they sleep together, he finds out about her tragic past and how she lost her virginity. He attempts to bring her to America to provide a better life for her but is unsuccessful. They are separated when the war ends. Five years later, he is married to an American woman, Ellen, and discovers Kim is still alive and has given birth to their son, Tam. He sets off to Asia with his wife to find and rescue his abandoned Vietnamese family. Feeling duty-bound to his ex-lover, he is determined to right his wrongs. “So I wanted to save, protect her. Christ, I’m an American. How could I fail to do good?” he says to his wife.
Alistair Brammer as Chris and Eva Noblezada as Kim in a show in the United Kingdom in 2016. Photo via The Guardian.
Even the more politically correct 2014 revival of the play fails to dispel racist and misogynistic overtones. The roots of racism and misogyny go deeper than just the use of yellowface or characters using an occasional slur. The story itself is built on stereotypes which the plot advances: without Kim’s innocence, which sets her apart from other girls, Chris wouldn’t have fallen in love with her; without the Engineer’s greed and scheming personality, the couple wouldn’t have met or reunited years later; without Thuy, there wouldn’t have been a clear antagonist in the story, and without the American’s savior complex, there wouldn’t have been a second act. As stereotypes are so woven into the plot, with each main character representing a different caricature, it would be impossible to transform the play into something completely acceptable.
The Engineer (in red) played by Sean Miley Moore in a recent revival.
The only constant, undaunted, and admirable aspect of the story is Kim’s undying love for her child. Miss Saigon was inspired by a 1975 photograph of a Vietnamese mother seeing her daughter off at Tân Sơn Nhứt Air Base to give her a better life in America. It’s this maternal love that is the focus of the second act of the play. Time and time again, Kim sacrifices for her child, from prostituting herself in Bangkok to killing Thuy to protect him. The finale mirrors the photograph that started it all. The maternal sacrifice culminates in Kim’s suicide at the end of the play so all obstacles are removed for Chis to bring Tam to the US.
Abigail Adriano as Kim in the Australian production of Miss Saigon. Photo by Daniel Boud via Australian Jewish News.
Although racist and misogynistic tones exist throughout the play, Kim’s experiences of motherhood show that a good story could have been told if only the play had focused more on Kim, her experiences in the war, how she had lost her family, and how she had hoped to build a new one, rather than paying too much attention to a sleazy pimp and a virtuous American. Even if the 2014 revival, which continues to be performed around the world, aims to make itself more politically correct than its predecessor, simple script and casting changes are simply superficial modifications that fail to remedy the core problems.
Miss Saigon is one of the few times Vietnam gets the spotlight in the West. Instead of focusing on the resilience and resourcefulness of Vietnamese people during the war or at least shining light onto Vietnamese culture and values, the writers decided to depict the country as a land of immorality filled with helpless women, scheming men, and barbaric nationalists.
So! Mr. Musk is all set to use humanoid robots in his Tesla factories next year. Quantum Computing, A.I. ??? “We’re doomed Captain Mannering! We’re all doomed, a tell yu! We’re spending millions on blowing ourselves up, killing each other yet there are children starving to death. Wonderful! Perhaps Robots will do a better job than us!
Monday, 19 August 2024. Written by Camille Lay. Top graphic by Trường Dĩ.
AAAHaving been abroad for more than a year, I was excited at the mere mention of Vietnam anywhere, so I was even more delighted when I learned of the popular musical Miss Saigon. Posters of it were plastered up in musical-themed bars in Manchester and different theaters across London. The musical is constantly on tour, having recently been staged in Brisbane, Manila, and Singapore. I was curious to see what about the play created such a cultural phenomenon in western theater and pop culture, especially when all people ever seem to know of Vietnam is the war and phở. The play, however, with its questionable history and writing choices, didn’t live up to my expectations.
First released in 1989, Miss Saigon was written by Claude-Michel Schonberg and Alain Boubil, the talents behind the musical adaptation of Les Misérables. Split into two acts, it begins by telling a story of love and lust between an American G.I. named Chris, first played by Simon Bowman, and a poor young Vietnamese girl, Kim, whose circumstances force her into prostitution. Kim was first played by Filipino vocalist Lea Salonga. After they fall in love, Chris offers to bring Kim to America but fails when the US suddenly pulls out of Vietnam. The second act then depicts a tragic tale of motherhood and sacrifices. Kim has given birth to Chris’ child while Chris grapples with his decision to abandon his family with Kim and stay with his new American wife, Ellen.
The poster for a cinematic screening of Miss Saigon’s original cast, featuring Lea Salonga as Kim and Simon Bowman as Chris. Image via IMDB.
Miss Saigon is one of the most influential musicals in theater history, having had one of the longest runs on Broadway. It launched Lea Salonga and Jonathan Pryce into international stardom and its 2014 revival set the world record for opening-day ticket sales. Much of the critics’ praise seems warranted: the set design is incredible and grandiose; the actors all deliver incredible performances; and each song makes a lasting impression. Part of what kept my attention until the end was the suspense and a desire to know the outcomes of each character, but unfortunately, most of my attention was devoted to trying to understand certain writing decisions.
The play has been subject to controversies since its first staging. Early performances were met with outrage, especially within Asian communities in the west because of its casting choices and depictions of Asians. One of its main characters, simply named The Engineer, is a scheming French-Vietnamese pimp who was originally played by Pryce, a white man. He wore eye prostheses and bronze-yellow makeup to look more Asian. This yellowface was bad enough, but the character also perpetuates racist stereotypes of Asians as cowardly, calculating, and manipulative of innocent Americans. He is later seen licking the boots of the American dream, played for laughs. The song, aptly called ‘The American Dream,’ features The Engineer excessively praising America as the land of opportunities, exclaiming that he’d fit in there better as an aspiring capitalist than in Asia, where his talents for pimping girls are wasted.
“I’m fed up with small-time hustles I’m too good to waste my talent for greed I need room to flex my muscles in an ocean where the big sharks feed make me Yankee, they’re my family […] Greasy chinks make life so sleazy in the States, I’ll have a club that’s four-starred men like me there have things easy.”
Miss Saigon received a revival in 2014 and, thankfully, much was changed. The new iteration featured Asian actors for Asian roles and much of the racist language was removed from the script. The Engineer no longer calls his fellow countrymen “chinks.” Moreover, he was no longer played by Jonathan Pryce but by Jon Jon Briones, a Filipino-American actor. While it’s worth noting that most of the cast, aside from the American characters, consisted of Asians, no one in the main cast was of Vietnamese ancestry. These changes only made the play a bit less racist, not free from racism. No Asian character was depicted positively aside from the main character Kim, who was presented as unique from other girls. Since the core plot relies on stereotypical behavior, simply removing the use of the word “chink” doesn’t change the play’s racist and misogynistic overtones.
Kim clad in a sexualized áo dài, as seen in the Australian production of Miss Saigon, starring Abigail Adriano (left) and Nigel Huckle (right) as Kim and Chris. Photo by Daniel Boud via Lifestyle Asia.
Kim first enters the stage at a brothel/bar wearing a sexualized version of áo dài consisting of only the dress without the pants. She is fetishized with pedophilic undertones. Her innocence and demureness make Chris, fall in love at first sight. Her virginity and young age are also points of focus for many of the characters and she is even described as “little” and “jailbait.” She is simultaneously depicted as the shy and orientalist stereotype and the exotic, hyper-sexualized femme fatale stereotype.
While the characters at first see Kim as a stereotype, her behavior establishes her as an anomaly, different from the other Vietnamese girls who use crude language and aggressive, pushy behavior.
“The village I come from seems so far away All of the girls know much more what to say But I know I have a heart like the sea A million dreams are in me…”
Kim shares about her arrival at the bar, contrasting the vulgarity of the other Vietnamese bar girls. This contrast is shown in the lyrics sung by Gigi, another prostitute at the bar, and the titular Miss Saigon herself.
“If I’m your pin-up, I’ll melt all your brass Stuck on your ball, with a pin in my ass If you get me, you will travel first-class I’ll show you, we will make magic, cheri.”
Thuy, on the other hand, is a Việt Cộng soldier with sadistic tendencies who is in love with his own cousin, Kim. He first appears in the middle of Act 1, disrupting the wedding ceremony between Chris and Kim. In Act 2, once he finds out that Kim has given birth to the child of an American G.I., he is ready to commit infanticide to absolve her of her sins and take her as his wife. So while Vietnamese women are depicted as either aggressive prostitutes or demure angels in white, Vietnamese men are either scheming cowards or barbaric soldiers.
Vietnamese bargirls dancing in Dreamland, the club owned by The Engineer where Kim and Gigi works. Photo via Twitter page @MissSaigonUK.
The depictions of Vietnamese characters are in stark contrast to the American characters. Chris is always righteous and after first rejecting Kim for being too young, he tries to do right by his Vietnamese lover. After they sleep together, he finds out about her tragic past and how she lost her virginity. He attempts to bring her to America to provide a better life for her but is unsuccessful. They are separated when the war ends. Five years later, he is married to an American woman, Ellen, and discovers Kim is still alive and has given birth to their son, Tam. He sets off to Asia with his wife to find and rescue his abandoned Vietnamese family. Feeling duty-bound to his ex-lover, he is determined to right his wrongs. “So I wanted to save, protect her. Christ, I’m an American. How could I fail to do good?” he says to his wife.
Alistair Brammer as Chris and Eva Noblezada as Kim in a show in the United Kingdom in 2016. Photo via The Guardian.
Even the more politically correct 2014 revival of the play fails to dispel racist and misogynistic overtones. The roots of racism and misogyny go deeper than just the use of yellowface or characters using an occasional slur. The story itself is built on stereotypes which the plot advances: without Kim’s innocence, which sets her apart from other girls, Chris wouldn’t have fallen in love with her; without the Engineer’s greed and scheming personality, the couple wouldn’t have met or reunited years later; without Thuy, there wouldn’t have been a clear antagonist in the story, and without the American’s savior complex, there wouldn’t have been a second act. As stereotypes are so woven into the plot, with each main character representing a different caricature, it would be impossible to transform the play into something completely acceptable.
The Engineer (in red) played by Sean Miley Moore in a recent revival.
The only constant, undaunted, and admirable aspect of the story is Kim’s undying love for her child. Miss Saigon was inspired by a 1975 photograph of a Vietnamese mother seeing her daughter off at Tân Sơn Nhứt Air Base to give her a better life in America. It’s this maternal love that is the focus of the second act of the play. Time and time again, Kim sacrifices for her child, from prostituting herself in Bangkok to killing Thuy to protect him. The finale mirrors the photograph that started it all. The maternal sacrifice culminates in Kim’s suicide at the end of the play so all obstacles are removed for Chis to bring Tam to the US.
Abigail Adriano as Kim in the Australian production of Miss Saigon. Photo by Daniel Boud via Australian Jewish News.
Although racist and misogynistic tones exist throughout the play, Kim’s experiences of motherhood show that a good story could have been told if only the play had focused more on Kim, her experiences in the war, how she had lost her family, and how she had hoped to build a new one, rather than paying too much attention to a sleazy pimp and a virtuous American. Even if the 2014 revival, which continues to be performed around the world, aims to make itself more politically correct than its predecessor, simple script and casting changes are simply superficial modifications that fail to remedy the core problems.
Miss Saigon is one of the few times Vietnam gets the spotlight in the West. Instead of focusing on the resilience and resourcefulness of Vietnamese people during the war or at least shining light onto Vietnamese culture and values, the writers decided to depict the country as a land of immorality filled with helpless women, scheming men, and barbaric nationalists.
If you have enjoyed our work and believe that Saigoneer’s voice is an important one to have, please consider supporting us. Pledge any amount you’re comfortable with in the form of a one-time or recurring donation so we can continue bringing you the stories you love to read.
Monday, 19 August 2024. Written by Camille Lay. Top graphic by Trường Dĩ.
AAAHaving been abroad for more than a year, I was excited at the mere mention of Vietnam anywhere, so I was even more delighted when I learned of the popular musical Miss Saigon. Posters of it were plastered up in musical-themed bars in Manchester and different theaters across London. The musical is constantly on tour, having recently been staged in Brisbane, Manila, and Singapore. I was curious to see what about the play created such a cultural phenomenon in western theater and pop culture, especially when all people ever seem to know of Vietnam is the war and phở. The play, however, with its questionable history and writing choices, didn’t live up to my expectations.
First released in 1989, Miss Saigon was written by Claude-Michel Schonberg and Alain Boubil, the talents behind the musical adaptation of Les Misérables. Split into two acts, it begins by telling a story of love and lust between an American G.I. named Chris, first played by Simon Bowman, and a poor young Vietnamese girl, Kim, whose circumstances force her into prostitution. Kim was first played by Filipino vocalist Lea Salonga. After they fall in love, Chris offers to bring Kim to America but fails when the US suddenly pulls out of Vietnam. The second act then depicts a tragic tale of motherhood and sacrifices. Kim has given birth to Chris’ child while Chris grapples with his decision to abandon his family with Kim and stay with his new American wife, Ellen.
The poster for a cinematic screening of Miss Saigon’s original cast, featuring Lea Salonga as Kim and Simon Bowman as Chris. Image via IMDB.
Miss Saigon is one of the most influential musicals in theater history, having had one of the longest runs on Broadway. It launched Lea Salonga and Jonathan Pryce into international stardom and its 2014 revival set the world record for opening-day ticket sales. Much of the critics’ praise seems warranted: the set design is incredible and grandiose; the actors all deliver incredible performances; and each song makes a lasting impression. Part of what kept my attention until the end was the suspense and a desire to know the outcomes of each character, but unfortunately, most of my attention was devoted to trying to understand certain writing decisions.
The play has been subject to controversies since its first staging. Early performances were met with outrage, especially within Asian communities in the west because of its casting choices and depictions of Asians. One of its main characters, simply named The Engineer, is a scheming French-Vietnamese pimp who was originally played by Pryce, a white man. He wore eye prostheses and bronze-yellow makeup to look more Asian. This yellowface was bad enough, but the character also perpetuates racist stereotypes of Asians as cowardly, calculating, and manipulative of innocent Americans. He is later seen licking the boots of the American dream, played for laughs. The song, aptly called ‘The American Dream,’ features The Engineer excessively praising America as the land of opportunities, exclaiming that he’d fit in there better as an aspiring capitalist than in Asia, where his talents for pimping girls are wasted.
“I’m fed up with small-time hustles I’m too good to waste my talent for greed I need room to flex my muscles in an ocean where the big sharks feed make me Yankee, they’re my family […] Greasy chinks make life so sleazy in the States, I’ll have a club that’s four-starred men like me there have things easy.”
Miss Saigon received a revival in 2014 and, thankfully, much was changed. The new iteration featured Asian actors for Asian roles and much of the racist language was removed from the script. The Engineer no longer calls his fellow countrymen “chinks.” Moreover, he was no longer played by Jonathan Pryce but by Jon Jon Briones, a Filipino-American actor. While it’s worth noting that most of the cast, aside from the American characters, consisted of Asians, no one in the main cast was of Vietnamese ancestry. These changes only made the play a bit less racist, not free from racism. No Asian character was depicted positively aside from the main character Kim, who was presented as unique from other girls. Since the core plot relies on stereotypical behavior, simply removing the use of the word “chink” doesn’t change the play’s racist and misogynistic overtones.
Kim clad in a sexualized áo dài, as seen in the Australian production of Miss Saigon, starring Abigail Adriano (left) and Nigel Huckle (right) as Kim and Chris. Photo by Daniel Boud via Lifestyle Asia.
Kim first enters the stage at a brothel/bar wearing a sexualized version of áo dài consisting of only the dress without the pants. She is fetishized with pedophilic undertones. Her innocence and demureness make Chris, fall in love at first sight. Her virginity and young age are also points of focus for many of the characters and she is even described as “little” and “jailbait.” She is simultaneously depicted as the shy and orientalist stereotype and the exotic, hyper-sexualized femme fatale stereotype.
While the characters at first see Kim as a stereotype, her behavior establishes her as an anomaly, different from the other Vietnamese girls who use crude language and aggressive, pushy behavior.
“The village I come from seems so far away All of the girls know much more what to say But I know I have a heart like the sea A million dreams are in me…”
Kim shares about her arrival at the bar, contrasting the vulgarity of the other Vietnamese bar girls. This contrast is shown in the lyrics sung by Gigi, another prostitute at the bar, and the titular Miss Saigon herself.
“If I’m your pin-up, I’ll melt all your brass Stuck on your ball, with a pin in my ass If you get me, you will travel first-class I’ll show you, we will make magic, cheri.”
Thuy, on the other hand, is a Việt Cộng soldier with sadistic tendencies who is in love with his own cousin, Kim. He first appears in the middle of Act 1, disrupting the wedding ceremony between Chris and Kim. In Act 2, once he finds out that Kim has given birth to the child of an American G.I., he is ready to commit infanticide to absolve her of her sins and take her as his wife. So while Vietnamese women are depicted as either aggressive prostitutes or demure angels in white, Vietnamese men are either scheming cowards or barbaric soldiers.
Vietnamese bargirls dancing in Dreamland, the club owned by The Engineer where Kim and Gigi works. Photo via Twitter page @MissSaigonUK.
The depictions of Vietnamese characters are in stark contrast to the American characters. Chris is always righteous and after first rejecting Kim for being too young, he tries to do right by his Vietnamese lover. After they sleep together, he finds out about her tragic past and how she lost her virginity. He attempts to bring her to America to provide a better life for her but is unsuccessful. They are separated when the war ends. Five years later, he is married to an American woman, Ellen, and discovers Kim is still alive and has given birth to their son, Tam. He sets off to Asia with his wife to find and rescue his abandoned Vietnamese family. Feeling duty-bound to his ex-lover, he is determined to right his wrongs. “So I wanted to save, protect her. Christ, I’m an American. How could I fail to do good?” he says to his wife.
Alistair Brammer as Chris and Eva Noblezada as Kim in a show in the United Kingdom in 2016. Photo via The Guardian.
Even the more politically correct 2014 revival of the play fails to dispel racist and misogynistic overtones. The roots of racism and misogyny go deeper than just the use of yellowface or characters using an occasional slur. The story itself is built on stereotypes which the plot advances: without Kim’s innocence, which sets her apart from other girls, Chris wouldn’t have fallen in love with her; without the Engineer’s greed and scheming personality, the couple wouldn’t have met or reunited years later; without Thuy, there wouldn’t have been a clear antagonist in the story, and without the American’s savior complex, there wouldn’t have been a second act. As stereotypes are so woven into the plot, with each main character representing a different caricature, it would be impossible to transform the play into something completely acceptable.
The Engineer (in red) played by Sean Miley Moore in a recent revival.
The only constant, undaunted, and admirable aspect of the story is Kim’s undying love for her child. Miss Saigon was inspired by a 1975 photograph of a Vietnamese mother seeing her daughter off at Tân Sơn Nhứt Air Base to give her a better life in America. It’s this maternal love that is the focus of the second act of the play. Time and time again, Kim sacrifices for her child, from prostituting herself in Bangkok to killing Thuy to protect him. The finale mirrors the photograph that started it all. The maternal sacrifice culminates in Kim’s suicide at the end of the play so all obstacles are removed for Chis to bring Tam to the US.
Abigail Adriano as Kim in the Australian production of Miss Saigon. Photo by Daniel Boud via Australian Jewish News.
Although racist and misogynistic tones exist throughout the play, Kim’s experiences of motherhood show that a good story could have been told if only the play had focused more on Kim, her experiences in the war, how she had lost her family, and how she had hoped to build a new one, rather than paying too much attention to a sleazy pimp and a virtuous American. Even if the 2014 revival, which continues to be performed around the world, aims to make itself more politically correct than its predecessor, simple script and casting changes are simply superficial modifications that fail to remedy the core problems.
Miss Saigon is one of the few times Vietnam gets the spotlight in the West. Instead of focusing on the resilience and resourcefulness of Vietnamese people during the war or at least shining light onto Vietnamese culture and values, the writers decided to depict the country as a land of immorality filled with helpless women, scheming men, and barbaric nationalists.
If you have enjoyed our work and believe that Saigoneer’s voice is an important one to have, please consider supporting us. Pledge any amount you’re comfortable with in the form of a one-time or recurring donation so we can continue bringing you the stories you love to read.
Monday, 19 August 2024. Written by Camille Lay. Top graphic by Trường Dĩ.
AAAHaving been abroad for more than a year, I was excited at the mere mention of Vietnam anywhere, so I was even more delighted when I learned of the popular musical Miss Saigon. Posters of it were plastered up in musical-themed bars in Manchester and different theaters across London. The musical is constantly on tour, having recently been staged in Brisbane, Manila, and Singapore. I was curious to see what about the play created such a cultural phenomenon in western theater and pop culture, especially when all people ever seem to know of Vietnam is the war and phở. The play, however, with its questionable history and writing choices, didn’t live up to my expectations.
First released in 1989, Miss Saigon was written by Claude-Michel Schonberg and Alain Boubil, the talents behind the musical adaptation of Les Misérables. Split into two acts, it begins by telling a story of love and lust between an American G.I. named Chris, first played by Simon Bowman, and a poor young Vietnamese girl, Kim, whose circumstances force her into prostitution. Kim was first played by Filipino vocalist Lea Salonga. After they fall in love, Chris offers to bring Kim to America but fails when the US suddenly pulls out of Vietnam. The second act then depicts a tragic tale of motherhood and sacrifices. Kim has given birth to Chris’ child while Chris grapples with his decision to abandon his family with Kim and stay with his new American wife, Ellen.
The poster for a cinematic screening of Miss Saigon’s original cast, featuring Lea Salonga as Kim and Simon Bowman as Chris. Image via IMDB.
Miss Saigon is one of the most influential musicals in theater history, having had one of the longest runs on Broadway. It launched Lea Salonga and Jonathan Pryce into international stardom and its 2014 revival set the world record for opening-day ticket sales. Much of the critics’ praise seems warranted: the set design is incredible and grandiose; the actors all deliver incredible performances; and each song makes a lasting impression. Part of what kept my attention until the end was the suspense and a desire to know the outcomes of each character, but unfortunately, most of my attention was devoted to trying to understand certain writing decisions.
The play has been subject to controversies since its first staging. Early performances were met with outrage, especially within Asian communities in the west because of its casting choices and depictions of Asians. One of its main characters, simply named The Engineer, is a scheming French-Vietnamese pimp who was originally played by Pryce, a white man. He wore eye prostheses and bronze-yellow makeup to look more Asian. This yellowface was bad enough, but the character also perpetuates racist stereotypes of Asians as cowardly, calculating, and manipulative of innocent Americans. He is later seen licking the boots of the American dream, played for laughs. The song, aptly called ‘The American Dream,’ features The Engineer excessively praising America as the land of opportunities, exclaiming that he’d fit in there better as an aspiring capitalist than in Asia, where his talents for pimping girls are wasted.
“I’m fed up with small-time hustles I’m too good to waste my talent for greed I need room to flex my muscles in an ocean where the big sharks feed make me Yankee, they’re my family […] Greasy chinks make life so sleazy in the States, I’ll have a club that’s four-starred men like me there have things easy.”
Miss Saigon received a revival in 2014 and, thankfully, much was changed. The new iteration featured Asian actors for Asian roles and much of the racist language was removed from the script. The Engineer no longer calls his fellow countrymen “chinks.” Moreover, he was no longer played by Jonathan Pryce but by Jon Jon Briones, a Filipino-American actor. While it’s worth noting that most of the cast, aside from the American characters, consisted of Asians, no one in the main cast was of Vietnamese ancestry. These changes only made the play a bit less racist, not free from racism. No Asian character was depicted positively aside from the main character Kim, who was presented as unique from other girls. Since the core plot relies on stereotypical behavior, simply removing the use of the word “chink” doesn’t change the play’s racist and misogynistic overtones.
Kim clad in a sexualized áo dài, as seen in the Australian production of Miss Saigon, starring Abigail Adriano (left) and Nigel Huckle (right) as Kim and Chris. Photo by Daniel Boud via Lifestyle Asia.
Kim first enters the stage at a brothel/bar wearing a sexualized version of áo dài consisting of only the dress without the pants. She is fetishized with pedophilic undertones. Her innocence and demureness make Chris, fall in love at first sight. Her virginity and young age are also points of focus for many of the characters and she is even described as “little” and “jailbait.” She is simultaneously depicted as the shy and orientalist stereotype and the exotic, hyper-sexualized femme fatale stereotype.
While the characters at first see Kim as a stereotype, her behavior establishes her as an anomaly, different from the other Vietnamese girls who use crude language and aggressive, pushy behavior.
“The village I come from seems so far away All of the girls know much more what to say But I know I have a heart like the sea A million dreams are in me…”
Kim shares about her arrival at the bar, contrasting the vulgarity of the other Vietnamese bar girls. This contrast is shown in the lyrics sung by Gigi, another prostitute at the bar, and the titular Miss Saigon herself.
“If I’m your pin-up, I’ll melt all your brass Stuck on your ball, with a pin in my ass If you get me, you will travel first-class I’ll show you, we will make magic, cheri.”
Thuy, on the other hand, is a Việt Cộng soldier with sadistic tendencies who is in love with his own cousin, Kim. He first appears in the middle of Act 1, disrupting the wedding ceremony between Chris and Kim. In Act 2, once he finds out that Kim has given birth to the child of an American G.I., he is ready to commit infanticide to absolve her of her sins and take her as his wife. So while Vietnamese women are depicted as either aggressive prostitutes or demure angels in white, Vietnamese men are either scheming cowards or barbaric soldiers.
Vietnamese bargirls dancing in Dreamland, the club owned by The Engineer where Kim and Gigi works. Photo via Twitter page @MissSaigonUK.
The depictions of Vietnamese characters are in stark contrast to the American characters. Chris is always righteous and after first rejecting Kim for being too young, he tries to do right by his Vietnamese lover. After they sleep together, he finds out about her tragic past and how she lost her virginity. He attempts to bring her to America to provide a better life for her but is unsuccessful. They are separated when the war ends. Five years later, he is married to an American woman, Ellen, and discovers Kim is still alive and has given birth to their son, Tam. He sets off to Asia with his wife to find and rescue his abandoned Vietnamese family. Feeling duty-bound to his ex-lover, he is determined to right his wrongs. “So I wanted to save, protect her. Christ, I’m an American. How could I fail to do good?” he says to his wife.
Alistair Brammer as Chris and Eva Noblezada as Kim in a show in the United Kingdom in 2016. Photo via The Guardian.
Even the more politically correct 2014 revival of the play fails to dispel racist and misogynistic overtones. The roots of racism and misogyny go deeper than just the use of yellowface or characters using an occasional slur. The story itself is built on stereotypes which the plot advances: without Kim’s innocence, which sets her apart from other girls, Chris wouldn’t have fallen in love with her; without the Engineer’s greed and scheming personality, the couple wouldn’t have met or reunited years later; without Thuy, there wouldn’t have been a clear antagonist in the story, and without the American’s savior complex, there wouldn’t have been a second act. As stereotypes are so woven into the plot, with each main character representing a different caricature, it would be impossible to transform the play into something completely acceptable.
The Engineer (in red) played by Sean Miley Moore in a recent revival.
The only constant, undaunted, and admirable aspect of the story is Kim’s undying love for her child. Miss Saigon was inspired by a 1975 photograph of a Vietnamese mother seeing her daughter off at Tân Sơn Nhứt Air Base to give her a better life in America. It’s this maternal love that is the focus of the second act of the play. Time and time again, Kim sacrifices for her child, from prostituting herself in Bangkok to killing Thuy to protect him. The finale mirrors the photograph that started it all. The maternal sacrifice culminates in Kim’s suicide at the end of the play so all obstacles are removed for Chis to bring Tam to the US.
Abigail Adriano as Kim in the Australian production of Miss Saigon. Photo by Daniel Boud via Australian Jewish News.
Although racist and misogynistic tones exist throughout the play, Kim’s experiences of motherhood show that a good story could have been told if only the play had focused more on Kim, her experiences in the war, how she had lost her family, and how she had hoped to build a new one, rather than paying too much attention to a sleazy pimp and a virtuous American. Even if the 2014 revival, which continues to be performed around the world, aims to make itself more politically correct than its predecessor, simple script and casting changes are simply superficial modifications that fail to remedy the core problems.
Miss Saigon is one of the few times Vietnam gets the spotlight in the West. Instead of focusing on the resilience and resourcefulness of Vietnamese people during the war or at least shining light onto Vietnamese culture and values, the writers decided to depict the country as a land of immorality filled with helpless women, scheming men, and barbaric nationalists.
If you have enjoyed our work and believe that Saigoneer’s voice is an important one to have, please consider supporting us. Pledge any amount you’re comfortable with in the form of a one-time or recurring donation so we can continue bringing you the stories you love to read.
Monday, 19 August 2024. Written by Camille Lay. Top graphic by Trường Dĩ.
AAAHaving been abroad for more than a year, I was excited at the mere mention of Vietnam anywhere, so I was even more delighted when I learned of the popular musical Miss Saigon. Posters of it were plastered up in musical-themed bars in Manchester and different theaters across London. The musical is constantly on tour, having recently been staged in Brisbane, Manila, and Singapore. I was curious to see what about the play created such a cultural phenomenon in western theater and pop culture, especially when all people ever seem to know of Vietnam is the war and phở. The play, however, with its questionable history and writing choices, didn’t live up to my expectations.
First released in 1989, Miss Saigon was written by Claude-Michel Schonberg and Alain Boubil, the talents behind the musical adaptation of Les Misérables. Split into two acts, it begins by telling a story of love and lust between an American G.I. named Chris, first played by Simon Bowman, and a poor young Vietnamese girl, Kim, whose circumstances force her into prostitution. Kim was first played by Filipino vocalist Lea Salonga. After they fall in love, Chris offers to bring Kim to America but fails when the US suddenly pulls out of Vietnam. The second act then depicts a tragic tale of motherhood and sacrifices. Kim has given birth to Chris’ child while Chris grapples with his decision to abandon his family with Kim and stay with his new American wife, Ellen.
The poster for a cinematic screening of Miss Saigon’s original cast, featuring Lea Salonga as Kim and Simon Bowman as Chris. Image via IMDB.
Miss Saigon is one of the most influential musicals in theater history, having had one of the longest runs on Broadway. It launched Lea Salonga and Jonathan Pryce into international stardom and its 2014 revival set the world record for opening-day ticket sales. Much of the critics’ praise seems warranted: the set design is incredible and grandiose; the actors all deliver incredible performances; and each song makes a lasting impression. Part of what kept my attention until the end was the suspense and a desire to know the outcomes of each character, but unfortunately, most of my attention was devoted to trying to understand certain writing decisions.
The play has been subject to controversies since its first staging. Early performances were met with outrage, especially within Asian communities in the west because of its casting choices and depictions of Asians. One of its main characters, simply named The Engineer, is a scheming French-Vietnamese pimp who was originally played by Pryce, a white man. He wore eye prostheses and bronze-yellow makeup to look more Asian. This yellowface was bad enough, but the character also perpetuates racist stereotypes of Asians as cowardly, calculating, and manipulative of innocent Americans. He is later seen licking the boots of the American dream, played for laughs. The song, aptly called ‘The American Dream,’ features The Engineer excessively praising America as the land of opportunities, exclaiming that he’d fit in there better as an aspiring capitalist than in Asia, where his talents for pimping girls are wasted.
“I’m fed up with small-time hustles I’m too good to waste my talent for greed I need room to flex my muscles in an ocean where the big sharks feed make me Yankee, they’re my family […] Greasy chinks make life so sleazy in the States, I’ll have a club that’s four-starred men like me there have things easy.”
Miss Saigon received a revival in 2014 and, thankfully, much was changed. The new iteration featured Asian actors for Asian roles and much of the racist language was removed from the script. The Engineer no longer calls his fellow countrymen “chinks.” Moreover, he was no longer played by Jonathan Pryce but by Jon Jon Briones, a Filipino-American actor. While it’s worth noting that most of the cast, aside from the American characters, consisted of Asians, no one in the main cast was of Vietnamese ancestry. These changes only made the play a bit less racist, not free from racism. No Asian character was depicted positively aside from the main character Kim, who was presented as unique from other girls. Since the core plot relies on stereotypical behavior, simply removing the use of the word “chink” doesn’t change the play’s racist and misogynistic overtones.
Kim clad in a sexualized áo dài, as seen in the Australian production of Miss Saigon, starring Abigail Adriano (left) and Nigel Huckle (right) as Kim and Chris. Photo by Daniel Boud via Lifestyle Asia.
Kim first enters the stage at a brothel/bar wearing a sexualized version of áo dài consisting of only the dress without the pants. She is fetishized with pedophilic undertones. Her innocence and demureness make Chris, fall in love at first sight. Her virginity and young age are also points of focus for many of the characters and she is even described as “little” and “jailbait.” She is simultaneously depicted as the shy and orientalist stereotype and the exotic, hyper-sexualized femme fatale stereotype.
While the characters at first see Kim as a stereotype, her behavior establishes her as an anomaly, different from the other Vietnamese girls who use crude language and aggressive, pushy behavior.
“The village I come from seems so far away All of the girls know much more what to say But I know I have a heart like the sea A million dreams are in me…”
Kim shares about her arrival at the bar, contrasting the vulgarity of the other Vietnamese bar girls. This contrast is shown in the lyrics sung by Gigi, another prostitute at the bar, and the titular Miss Saigon herself.
“If I’m your pin-up, I’ll melt all your brass Stuck on your ball, with a pin in my ass If you get me, you will travel first-class I’ll show you, we will make magic, cheri.”
Thuy, on the other hand, is a Việt Cộng soldier with sadistic tendencies who is in love with his own cousin, Kim. He first appears in the middle of Act 1, disrupting the wedding ceremony between Chris and Kim. In Act 2, once he finds out that Kim has given birth to the child of an American G.I., he is ready to commit infanticide to absolve her of her sins and take her as his wife. So while Vietnamese women are depicted as either aggressive prostitutes or demure angels in white, Vietnamese men are either scheming cowards or barbaric soldiers.
Vietnamese bargirls dancing in Dreamland, the club owned by The Engineer where Kim and Gigi works. Photo via Twitter page @MissSaigonUK.
The depictions of Vietnamese characters are in stark contrast to the American characters. Chris is always righteous and after first rejecting Kim for being too young, he tries to do right by his Vietnamese lover. After they sleep together, he finds out about her tragic past and how she lost her virginity. He attempts to bring her to America to provide a better life for her but is unsuccessful. They are separated when the war ends. Five years later, he is married to an American woman, Ellen, and discovers Kim is still alive and has given birth to their son, Tam. He sets off to Asia with his wife to find and rescue his abandoned Vietnamese family. Feeling duty-bound to his ex-lover, he is determined to right his wrongs. “So I wanted to save, protect her. Christ, I’m an American. How could I fail to do good?” he says to his wife.
Alistair Brammer as Chris and Eva Noblezada as Kim in a show in the United Kingdom in 2016. Photo via The Guardian.
Even the more politically correct 2014 revival of the play fails to dispel racist and misogynistic overtones. The roots of racism and misogyny go deeper than just the use of yellowface or characters using an occasional slur. The story itself is built on stereotypes which the plot advances: without Kim’s innocence, which sets her apart from other girls, Chris wouldn’t have fallen in love with her; without the Engineer’s greed and scheming personality, the couple wouldn’t have met or reunited years later; without Thuy, there wouldn’t have been a clear antagonist in the story, and without the American’s savior complex, there wouldn’t have been a second act. As stereotypes are so woven into the plot, with each main character representing a different caricature, it would be impossible to transform the play into something completely acceptable.
The Engineer (in red) played by Sean Miley Moore in a recent revival.
The only constant, undaunted, and admirable aspect of the story is Kim’s undying love for her child. Miss Saigon was inspired by a 1975 photograph of a Vietnamese mother seeing her daughter off at Tân Sơn Nhứt Air Base to give her a better life in America. It’s this maternal love that is the focus of the second act of the play. Time and time again, Kim sacrifices for her child, from prostituting herself in Bangkok to killing Thuy to protect him. The finale mirrors the photograph that started it all. The maternal sacrifice culminates in Kim’s suicide at the end of the play so all obstacles are removed for Chis to bring Tam to the US.
Abigail Adriano as Kim in the Australian production of Miss Saigon. Photo by Daniel Boud via Australian Jewish News.
Although racist and misogynistic tones exist throughout the play, Kim’s experiences of motherhood show that a good story could have been told if only the play had focused more on Kim, her experiences in the war, how she had lost her family, and how she had hoped to build a new one, rather than paying too much attention to a sleazy pimp and a virtuous American. Even if the 2014 revival, which continues to be performed around the world, aims to make itself more politically correct than its predecessor, simple script and casting changes are simply superficial modifications that fail to remedy the core problems.
Miss Saigon is one of the few times Vietnam gets the spotlight in the West. Instead of focusing on the resilience and resourcefulness of Vietnamese people during the war or at least shining light onto Vietnamese culture and values, the writers decided to depict the country as a land of immorality filled with helpless women, scheming men, and barbaric nationalists.
If you have enjoyed our work and believe that Saigoneer’s voice is an important one to have, please consider supporting us. Pledge any amount you’re comfortable with in the form of a one-time or recurring donation so we can continue bringing you the stories you love to read.
Monday, 19 August 2024. Written by Camille Lay. Top graphic by Trường Dĩ.
AAAHaving been abroad for more than a year, I was excited at the mere mention of Vietnam anywhere, so I was even more delighted when I learned of the popular musical Miss Saigon. Posters of it were plastered up in musical-themed bars in Manchester and different theaters across London. The musical is constantly on tour, having recently been staged in Brisbane, Manila, and Singapore. I was curious to see what about the play created such a cultural phenomenon in western theater and pop culture, especially when all people ever seem to know of Vietnam is the war and phở. The play, however, with its questionable history and writing choices, didn’t live up to my expectations.
First released in 1989, Miss Saigon was written by Claude-Michel Schonberg and Alain Boubil, the talents behind the musical adaptation of Les Misérables. Split into two acts, it begins by telling a story of love and lust between an American G.I. named Chris, first played by Simon Bowman, and a poor young Vietnamese girl, Kim, whose circumstances force her into prostitution. Kim was first played by Filipino vocalist Lea Salonga. After they fall in love, Chris offers to bring Kim to America but fails when the US suddenly pulls out of Vietnam. The second act then depicts a tragic tale of motherhood and sacrifices. Kim has given birth to Chris’ child while Chris grapples with his decision to abandon his family with Kim and stay with his new American wife, Ellen.
The poster for a cinematic screening of Miss Saigon’s original cast, featuring Lea Salonga as Kim and Simon Bowman as Chris. Image via IMDB.
Miss Saigon is one of the most influential musicals in theater history, having had one of the longest runs on Broadway. It launched Lea Salonga and Jonathan Pryce into international stardom and its 2014 revival set the world record for opening-day ticket sales. Much of the critics’ praise seems warranted: the set design is incredible and grandiose; the actors all deliver incredible performances; and each song makes a lasting impression. Part of what kept my attention until the end was the suspense and a desire to know the outcomes of each character, but unfortunately, most of my attention was devoted to trying to understand certain writing decisions.
The play has been subject to controversies since its first staging. Early performances were met with outrage, especially within Asian communities in the west because of its casting choices and depictions of Asians. One of its main characters, simply named The Engineer, is a scheming French-Vietnamese pimp who was originally played by Pryce, a white man. He wore eye prostheses and bronze-yellow makeup to look more Asian. This yellowface was bad enough, but the character also perpetuates racist stereotypes of Asians as cowardly, calculating, and manipulative of innocent Americans. He is later seen licking the boots of the American dream, played for laughs. The song, aptly called ‘The American Dream,’ features The Engineer excessively praising America as the land of opportunities, exclaiming that he’d fit in there better as an aspiring capitalist than in Asia, where his talents for pimping girls are wasted.
“I’m fed up with small-time hustles I’m too good to waste my talent for greed I need room to flex my muscles in an ocean where the big sharks feed make me Yankee, they’re my family […] Greasy chinks make life so sleazy in the States, I’ll have a club that’s four-starred men like me there have things easy.”
Miss Saigon received a revival in 2014 and, thankfully, much was changed. The new iteration featured Asian actors for Asian roles and much of the racist language was removed from the script. The Engineer no longer calls his fellow countrymen “chinks.” Moreover, he was no longer played by Jonathan Pryce but by Jon Jon Briones, a Filipino-American actor. While it’s worth noting that most of the cast, aside from the American characters, consisted of Asians, no one in the main cast was of Vietnamese ancestry. These changes only made the play a bit less racist, not free from racism. No Asian character was depicted positively aside from the main character Kim, who was presented as unique from other girls. Since the core plot relies on stereotypical behavior, simply removing the use of the word “chink” doesn’t change the play’s racist and misogynistic overtones.
Kim clad in a sexualized áo dài, as seen in the Australian production of Miss Saigon, starring Abigail Adriano (left) and Nigel Huckle (right) as Kim and Chris. Photo by Daniel Boud via Lifestyle Asia.
Kim first enters the stage at a brothel/bar wearing a sexualized version of áo dài consisting of only the dress without the pants. She is fetishized with pedophilic undertones. Her innocence and demureness make Chris, fall in love at first sight. Her virginity and young age are also points of focus for many of the characters and she is even described as “little” and “jailbait.” She is simultaneously depicted as the shy and orientalist stereotype and the exotic, hyper-sexualized femme fatale stereotype.
While the characters at first see Kim as a stereotype, her behavior establishes her as an anomaly, different from the other Vietnamese girls who use crude language and aggressive, pushy behavior.
“The village I come from seems so far away All of the girls know much more what to say But I know I have a heart like the sea A million dreams are in me…”
Kim shares about her arrival at the bar, contrasting the vulgarity of the other Vietnamese bar girls. This contrast is shown in the lyrics sung by Gigi, another prostitute at the bar, and the titular Miss Saigon herself.
“If I’m your pin-up, I’ll melt all your brass Stuck on your ball, with a pin in my ass If you get me, you will travel first-class I’ll show you, we will make magic, cheri.”
Thuy, on the other hand, is a Việt Cộng soldier with sadistic tendencies who is in love with his own cousin, Kim. He first appears in the middle of Act 1, disrupting the wedding ceremony between Chris and Kim. In Act 2, once he finds out that Kim has given birth to the child of an American G.I., he is ready to commit infanticide to absolve her of her sins and take her as his wife. So while Vietnamese women are depicted as either aggressive prostitutes or demure angels in white, Vietnamese men are either scheming cowards or barbaric soldiers.
Vietnamese bargirls dancing in Dreamland, the club owned by The Engineer where Kim and Gigi works. Photo via Twitter page @MissSaigonUK.
The depictions of Vietnamese characters are in stark contrast to the American characters. Chris is always righteous and after first rejecting Kim for being too young, he tries to do right by his Vietnamese lover. After they sleep together, he finds out about her tragic past and how she lost her virginity. He attempts to bring her to America to provide a better life for her but is unsuccessful. They are separated when the war ends. Five years later, he is married to an American woman, Ellen, and discovers Kim is still alive and has given birth to their son, Tam. He sets off to Asia with his wife to find and rescue his abandoned Vietnamese family. Feeling duty-bound to his ex-lover, he is determined to right his wrongs. “So I wanted to save, protect her. Christ, I’m an American. How could I fail to do good?” he says to his wife.
Alistair Brammer as Chris and Eva Noblezada as Kim in a show in the United Kingdom in 2016. Photo via The Guardian.
Even the more politically correct 2014 revival of the play fails to dispel racist and misogynistic overtones. The roots of racism and misogyny go deeper than just the use of yellowface or characters using an occasional slur. The story itself is built on stereotypes which the plot advances: without Kim’s innocence, which sets her apart from other girls, Chris wouldn’t have fallen in love with her; without the Engineer’s greed and scheming personality, the couple wouldn’t have met or reunited years later; without Thuy, there wouldn’t have been a clear antagonist in the story, and without the American’s savior complex, there wouldn’t have been a second act. As stereotypes are so woven into the plot, with each main character representing a different caricature, it would be impossible to transform the play into something completely acceptable.
The Engineer (in red) played by Sean Miley Moore in a recent revival.
The only constant, undaunted, and admirable aspect of the story is Kim’s undying love for her child. Miss Saigon was inspired by a 1975 photograph of a Vietnamese mother seeing her daughter off at Tân Sơn Nhứt Air Base to give her a better life in America. It’s this maternal love that is the focus of the second act of the play. Time and time again, Kim sacrifices for her child, from prostituting herself in Bangkok to killing Thuy to protect him. The finale mirrors the photograph that started it all. The maternal sacrifice culminates in Kim’s suicide at the end of the play so all obstacles are removed for Chis to bring Tam to the US.
Abigail Adriano as Kim in the Australian production of Miss Saigon. Photo by Daniel Boud via Australian Jewish News.
Tuesday, 30 July 2024. Written by Như Quỳnh. Photos by Alberto Prieto.
The compelling images encourage one to reflect upon the complexity of the human condition and the world.
.It’s no exaggeration to say that working in a forge is akin to being in a fiery sauna.
There are two poems I remember most from my primary school days: ‘The Sound of Bamboo Brooms’ by Tố Hữu and ‘The Blacksmith’ by poet Khánh Nguyên. As a child, I associated the labor of street sweepers and blacksmiths with temperature: the former braves the cold, dewy night to clean the streets, while latter stands before a literal furnace.
On scorching Saigon days, folks hurry to reach their destination quickly to avoid the blistering heat. Yet, as I speed on local streets on my scooter, I find myself thinking more about those whose jobs require them to endure such harsh conditions for decades.
A fourth-generation torch bearer
Many, if not most, forges in Vietnam today are not named after their current owners. Passed down from generation to generation, these forges retain the original name to honor their predecessors, the craft they practice and the legacy they continue. Lò Rèn Phương, a forge in Saigon’s Thủ Đức City with a history of about 80 years, also shares this tradition.
“[Phương] was my great-grandfather’s name. Back then, everything was very rudimentary, mostly operated by manual labor. He had to use a turbine fan to coax the flames, unlike the automatic blowers we have now. But despite the hardships, he loved his craft very much. He taught my father, who then taught me,” shared Toản, the current owner, pointing with pride to the timeworn sign at the entrance of the alley leading to the forge.
Today, Lò Rèn Phương mainly produces machetes, garden hoes, shovels, crowbars, and specialized construction materials. They also take custom orders for handcrafted tools like concrete chisels and road-digging crowbars.
A bone cleaver, for instance, takes about 2–3 hours to complete. For a skilled blacksmith like Toản, the process is so familiar it’s almost second nature and he encounters little difficulty executing the steps. But when serving tough clients who demand meticulous, razor-sharp products with precise dimensions down to the millimeter, Toản must measure and weigh each piece of metal carefully, leaving no detail unchecked.
To create a perfect tool, Toản believes that the blacksmith must first choose the right type of steel: one that offers the desired hardness and durability. Once the steel is selected, it is heated in the forge until red-hot, softened to make it easier to shape, and then quickly hammered to improve the grain structure, making the blade stronger and sharper with each sharpening.
The next step is heat treatment, a crucial phase that determines the knife’s quality. The steel is heated to a specific temperature and then rapidly cooled in a mixture of oil and chemicals. This process not only increases the carbon content in the steel but also hardens the blade, enabling the user to cut smoothly through anything. The final steps involve additional sharpening, polishing, attaching the handle, and a thorough inspection before the product reaches the customer.
“There are knives in the market that have become too dull from extended use and can no longer chop effectively. People bring them to me to have the edges redone or to order new ones. Sharpening a knife costs only tens of thousand dong, while a new knife ranges from tens to hundreds of thousand dong, depending on customer needs. For example, a coconut cleaver ranges from VND150,000 to VND200,000, while a bone-chopping knife costs VND250,000 to VND300,000. The more intricate and high-quality the knife, the pricier it is.”
Despite being a small business, each product from the forge comes with a unique warranty. Customers can bring any purchase with wear-and-tear to Toản for a free makeover. Remarkably, since taking over from his father, no one has complained about the product quality or requested a refund.
Keeping the flame burning
“The hammering makes the sound ‘cực’ which symbolizes ‘struggle’ (‘khổ’), and the metal when dipped into water sizzles (‘xèo’) which sounds likes ‘nghèo’ (poverty),” Toản talks about how his trade is often jokingly associated with poor working conditions and pay.
However, instead of shying away, he decided to finish his studies, entered the workforce, then returned to help his father and eventually took over the family’s forge over 20 years ago.
“It’s tough, exhausting, and hot,” he said. “The space from the forge to where I am is probably around a thousand degrees, with direct heat rising up to about 1,200–1,300°C. Even with 2–3 fans blowing to disperse the heat, it still affects you. And obviously, exposure to coal is hazardous. But this is a trade I genuinely love. Every finished product is made with my own hands, sweat, and effort. The feeling of shaping, bending, or forging even a small knife or chisel gives me a sense of honest labor, knowing my products support many people’s work — it’s indescribable.”
He acknowledged that today, forges can’t attract as many customers as during their heyday due to the advancement of machinery and production lines. The most diminished customer demographic is contractors and companies needing large quantities. Diverse options on the market make it all the more challenging for traditional blacksmithing.
“During the golden days, my forge was always bustling with orders for all sorts of tools, not just hammers, knives, and chisels… But then technology developed so fast, mass production can constantly churn out affordable and serviceable tools, making it hard to compete,” Toản confided. Additionally, the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted many businesses, including his forge.
Yet, Toản remains optimistic, believing that each product has its unique characteristics. Some specialized products require tailor-made orders that can’t be found on the market, like a coconut saw, auto repair parts, or livestock feed knives, which must be customized to meet specific user requirements.
While blacksmithing is traditionally a father-to-son trade, some customers maintain a similar tradition. Products from the forge are durable, lasting 2–3 generations. When in need of new tools, they direct their descendants to the same forge. Toản mentioned that many older customers from far-flung localities like Long An, Hóc Môn, Củ Chi are willing to travel the long distance to order from him because they trust and prefer his products. This loyalty helps the forge endure through the years.
He fondly recalled a memorable encounter with an Indian customer who flew to Vietnam to place an order. Toản couldn’t communicate in English, so they sat on the ground, drawing out shapes and processes with chalk. “I didn’t understand a word he said, but we both drew pictures, and I ended up making several dozen crowbars for export to India. This customer returned 5–7 times, ordering hundreds of crowbars in total,” Toản said.
From the bottom of his heart, Toản always wants to maintain his ancestral trade for a long time but can’t help but worry, as he’s over 50 and his children are still young; he’s uncertain if they’ll want or be able to take over. He hopes his children can carry on the forge’s legacy for many generations.
“If young people are interested in blacksmithing, they should come to learn so it can
continue to exist. I hope that in the future, regardless of how the country progresses or changes, we remember the craftsmanship of our ancestors.”
Lò Rèn Phương is located at 562 Tô Ngọc Vân, Tam Bình Ward, Thủ Đức District, HCMC.
So! We have war in Ukraine, war in Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, Syria. Racial riots all across the UK and Donald Trump looming large, Putin, Xi, uncle Kim and Iran all best mates. What can possibly go wrong?
Below are some really nice photos of boats on a canal and happy people. Not a gun or a placard in sight.
Wednesday, 20 March 2024. Written by Paul Christiansen. Photos by Cao Nhân,
In Plain Sight is Saigoneer’s series exploring overlooked or under-appreciated places in the city. We hope it inspires you to notice the many fascinating stories, histories, and ruminations waiting right in front of your eyes.
Are your afternoons spent rambling around the city with fashionable friends; snacking on photogenic pastries at comfy retro cafes; and swerving through traffic beneath shady trees, as a particularly whimsical band with clever lyrics and tissue-paper vocals titter in your headphones? Do you consider yourself awkward but adorable? Are your memories coated in the warm shade of brown unique to recycled paper used for expensive journals filled with handwritten notes and lists? Do you encounter middle-class problems and conventional challenges that can be addressed in a quick 90 minutes? If so, it seems your life is ripe for low-stake, small-budget flick treatment. And if this movie were to be made, then certainly a scene should take place in the middle of the Nhiêu Lộc–Thị Nghè Canal aboard a small boat.
The Thị Nghè canal exists like a seam; a thread suturing the city’s disparate districts together, and thus, it is not a part of the city itself, exactly. Who doesn’t long to exist in a liminal space, indulge innate alienation and assimilate into the marginalia? If you’re like me, you’ve often gazed at the canal with wistful desires to voyage out on it. But how? Finding and buying a boat, cultivating rudimentary piloting abilities, researching licensing and preparing bribes is a hassle and a half. It’s better to employ an expert. So Saigoneer took our recent trip on the canal via the Nhiêu Lộc Boat Company (NLB), the canal’s seemingly singular operator of commercial water vessels from 2014. You will pass by one of NLB’s two stations whenever you drive over the Thị Nghè Bridge into District 1 via Nguyễn Thị Minh Khai. The fact that you’ve likely never noticed it enough to consider a voyage makes them perfect for an article for our In Plain Sight series because they are particularly splendid.
Pleasure is the sole purpose of a boat trip on the canal. This separates it from the city’s Waterbus which operates on the Saigon River and was initially launched with aspirations of providing viable public transportation services. So while it’s nice to daydream of daily commutes to and from work aboard one of the NLB boats, that’s simply impossible. It exists solely to bring joy to riders and it succeeds remarkably well with these modest aims. I’d go as far as to put it on my top five list of Saigon activities.
NLB has a fleet consisting of from five-person Phoenix rowboats up to 35-person yacht-style boats that it employs for a variety of services that include packaged public tours with food and entertainment that include music performances and opportunities to release paper lanterns as well as options to rent the boats with a captain on a per-hour basis. The latter fit the Saigoneer team’s needs and a Turtle boat (Thuyền Qui) was waiting for us when we arrived at the dock for an arranged (you must book in advance) 4:30pm departure. Between 4:30pm and 5:30pm is the best time to schedule the one-hour journey between NLB’s two docks — one near the border of Districts 1 and 3 and the other across from the Saigon Zoo — as the gathering dusk creates an ideal atmosphere, and atmosphere is the journey’s main draw.
Dusk braises the horizon in rose, orange and ochre. The sky smears soft light like a blam across the crags and imperfections of buildings that line either side of Hoàng Sa and Trường Sa. Between the roads and the water, wide strips of grass with trees offer shade to benches, exercise equipment, and sidewalks. The unmistakable scent of blooming sứ trắng hovers around the occasional bend. At this hour, nearby workers are heading home, local residents are walking their dogs, youths are gathering for gossip and horseplay, and street restaurants are opening for the evening. It’s as if the neighborhoods lining the canal have collectively finished work for the day and are casting off their uniforms for a few minutes of rest and unencumbered loafing before plunging into the hectic rush of Saigon nightlife. I’ve long claimed that the area around the canal is Saigon at its most charming and this is best witnessed via a boat at dusk.
In addition to the general vibes, a boat ride offers unique vantage points for viewing some notable city landmarks as well as personally cherished places. Landmark 81, that grotesque clutch of mismatched chopsticks, looms in the distance. The Vạn Thọ Pagoda, an understated and tree-shielded site of Buddhist worship kneels just a ways down from Pháp Hoa Pagoda, an ornate and lantern-filled spectacle near where our trip began. The bright blue Sawaco water tower, a curious insect specimen pin speared into Bình Thạnh, is likely to arouse inquiries as to its purpose from some of your fellow passengers. And then there are those sites that might not be on a typical tourist itinerary but hold private meaning for those who lived or spent time near the canal. For me, it is my favorite coffee shop, Lão Hạc Cafe; a beloved Greek restaurant whose owner still sends me the occasional random Facebook message and generously offers complimentary off-menu treats when I pay a rare visit; a particular bench near my old apartment where I would spend evenings reading and even the balcony where I spent COVID-19 lockdown watching the giraffes in the zoo. Perhaps we can only love a city once we’ve become attached to some of its insignificant elements.
Photo by Paul Christiansen.
Okay, so you can soak up the vibes and savor some nostalgic sightseeing if you happen to have a personal connection to the areas along the canal, but is there anything to actually do during the boat ride? Well, if Saigoneer’s behavior is any indication, the experience provides a terrific opportunity for taking selfies. Group shots, solo shots, candid shots, action shots; the light combined with backdrops and perspectives rarely encountered amongst tired social media locations make the boat ride perfect for taking photos. I would even suggest that those needing professional shoots (weddings, product launches, music videos, etc.) consider it.
The boat can jostle, so secure your camera while waiting for the selfie-timer. Photo by Khôi Phạm.
And since we are now on the topic of suggestions, I have a few. Bring food and drinks. If you book some of NLB’s packaged cruises they include dinner, but if you do as we did and simply rent the boat and captain you can take whatever you would like on board. Pizza buffet? Chilled beers? Selection of the latest novelty chips? Whatever your heart desires. Ditto for what type of music to play, but definitely bring some Bluetooth speakers and prepare a breezy playlist to accompany your trip. There is no need to bring cards or board games as you can satisfy such urges by inventing games that make use of the surroundings. For example, why not create a game that involves evaluating and ranking the different names and architectural styles of the various bridges you will pass beneath? Indeed, architecture buffs will enjoy them for their historical significance, but even the uniformed can enjoy debating the merits of various aesthetics. The undersides of many of the bridges feature original artwork, both officially commissioned and unsanctioned street art. Finding them feels like discovering Easter Eggs the city has hidden specifically for you and other purveyors of the canal because they would be difficult to notice otherwise.
And on the topic of objects being easy to spot, I wouldn’t suggest bringing binoculars. There’s no need. I took mine thinking I might find something neat along the way that demanded closer inspection but other than pulling them out once to attempt an identification of a dead fish floating beside us, I didn’t use them and they were rather heavy to lug around. Your naked eyes will be enough to notice floating detritus and trash on the canal, of course, but it’s nowhere near as bad as it once was. It certainly isn’t worse than any other public space in Saigon and shouldn’t discourage you from the experience. Similarly, word of mouth or past experience may lead you to believe that the canal stinks. It does not stink. If anything, the relative distance the space offers from the city’s oppressive noise pollution and general density of commotion makes the middle of the canal feel fresher and freer than just about anywhere else downtown.
Of course, as with many under-promoted and largely ignored Saigon activities, a boat ride on the canal is not without sources of whimsy. Most obvious are the strange, plastic-encumbered vessels anchored in the canal. One features painted plastic bottles assembled into crude pinwheels while another has a small hut built out of clear bottles. Like many sources of whimsy, their intended purpose is unfathomable. Another surprise awaits at the end of the journey, at least if you are disembarking at the zoo-adjacent dock. As we approached a large fountain system erupted. After 6pm, the jets of water would be accompanied by colorful lights, but instead, it was just clear canal water arcing up into the sky and falling back down unceremoniously. The overture intended for our arrival was a little pathetic in its lacked grandeur, like three people performing a round of applause in an otherwise empty conference room. It felt fitting though, as whimsy always travels with a lump of disenchantment in its shoe, like sand carried in from the beach.
Whimsy is never too far removed from danger, either. Genuine risk of injury is my fondest memory of a boat ride on the canal. Back in 2018, I joined a group of friends for an identical ride and midway through our voyage, the engine erupted in great flames. They pawed and scratched at the boat’s wooden roof while we rushed to the front with provided life jackets in hand and discussed who could swim and which side of the canal we should head for if we needed to jump off. Thankfully, the captain was able to put the blaze out with shirts dunked in the canal water. The engine no longer worked but we were able to float back down to the dock without a problem. It was a beautiful night.
They were the business! The best! The Boys! Brendon and Niall were Hereford Drug Squad, they always won. For one of them it didn’t matter what he did. He searched for elusive failure, wanted punishment, deserved and needed condemnation. For the other, breaking the rules was OK as long as you enjoyed it, didn’t get caught, and didn’t hurt anybody. Bermuda, marriage, trains, Thailand, Hong Kong, New York, divorce, death, several deaths, Ecuador, Guatemala Belize, Brecon Beacons Love, Drugs, Love, Memories, Love and two dogs. Did I mention Love! Oh! And money.
Enjoy! for 5 USD in E format or 10 USD in Paperback.
Monday, 18 April 2022. Written by Ann Ann. Images courtesy of Trọng Tính.
Read this article in Vietnamese at Sài·gòn·eer.Much like their descendants today, schoolchildren of 1930s Vietnam also took art classes as part of their syllabus. In this rare collection of what was essentially our grandparents’ homework, we can surprisingly learn a lot about the daily life of Mekong Delta residents from nearly 100 years ago.
Art is a crucial subject in assisting the development of a young child’s sense of aesthetics, even though not every pupil is excited by drawing lessons. During these hands-on hours, students not only learn how to record what they observe on paper, but also how to appreciate art and life.
Just by flicking through these intricate art assignments by students of the École Primaire de Long Xuyên in 1930, one can feel the pulse of life imbued in every household object and scene portrayed. The scans were archived by the French National Museum of Education.
École Primaire de Long Xuyên, 1920.
Long Xuyên County (as it was then called) received its first administrative designation in the 1860s–1870s. In 1900, Long Xuyên became a province, consisting of three districts: Châu Thành, Thốt Nốt, and Chợ Mới. In 1917, Governor-General Albert Sarraut issued the General Regulation of Education in January 1917, allowing Long Xuyên as a province to establish public schools — which led to the birth of École primaire de Long Xuyên, or Long Xuyên Primary School.
In this artwork collection from 1930, students commonly opted for household items in their still life sketches, like areca nut trays, vases, and even one ghe hầu — an ornate pleasure barge used by members of the upper echelons on vacations. One student chose to draw a pair of geckos, which, as thằn lằn fans at Saigoneer, we feel should deserve more than a 7/10 grade.
It does come as a surprise when we marvel at these sketches because the level of attention to detail was remarkable. From the vases’ elegant inlaid mother of pearl to regal dragon patterns on trays, the students did a sterling job at capturing the artisanship of past craftsmen in their work. Moreover, by looking at these artworks, we can have a glimpse into the range of home items of past Vietnamese that might longer be in use today, such as the areca nut sets.
A noticeable motif present in the decorative items that were portrayed by students was the “lotus and duck” subject or liên áp in Vietnamese. The character for áp (鴨), meaning “duck,” has an element of giáp (甲), meaning “first.” This signifies an aspiration to attain high achievement in academic pursuits. Liên (蓮), meaning “lotus,” is a homophone of liên (連), meaning “continuous.” Depictions of “lotus and duck” reflect people’s desire to have good luck in their studies and future career.
Interestingly, one of the most popular subjects is the areca nut and betel leaf kit used by past generations. A set usually has a tray or lidded pot, a pitcher of lime powder, a cutter, a mixing spoon, dried thuốc xỉa leaves, and a spitting bottle.
In three works by the authors Sư, Huỳnh Văn Mới and Kỳ, we can identify some of these instruments in three different styles, all beautifully crafted to showcase their owners’ financial station. In the set drawn by Sư, the exterior of the box is lacquered and embellished with a “lotus and duck” scene. For the sets owned by Mới and Kỳ’s families, the receptacles were made of bronze.
Three sets of different trầu cau utensils show us the diversity and complexity of our ancestors’ areca nut-chewing pastime.
An areca nut box, or cơi trầu, is a multi-component container with a lid, used to store the various tools needed in the consumption of areca nut and betel leaf mixture. Ô trầu, on the other hand, is simply a hollow cylindrical container where everything is kept. According to Trọng Tính, a co-founder of history forum Đại Nam Hội Quán, these setups were usually displayed by wealthy households back then in their living room to flaunt their social status.
Commenting on this set of artworks, Tính also noted that the opulent boat drawn by Trần Tấn Tước isn’t just any mode of transportation commonly seen now. It’s a ghe hầu, a leisure vehicle reserved for river cruise and is decorated with festive flags, a prominent rudder, and other amenities. Today, not many have survived, though two are still kicking around, including the Sáu Bổ owned by Trần Văn Thành, and the Sấm owned by Lê Văn Mưu, also known as Ông Trần.
Marveling at these art assignments by students in the 1930s Mekong Delta, we get to know a delightful facet of the life of past Vietnamese. Areca nut boxes have largely disappeared from our daily routine, and now mostly exist as artifacts in museums. If you’re lucky, there might be one lurking in a corner of the family living room, waiting to be rediscovered. If not, then you’ll probably have to settle for digital images or one of these detailed sketches by students of the Long Xuyên Primary School.
What I can’t understand is why, after the horror of WW11 Holocaust, aren’t the Israelies the most kind, forgiving understanding race in the world
Looking at past albums of our cities today, I’m always stricken by a bewildering vastness — every street, every square, every building seemed to have been constructed in a ghost town, serving lonesome phantoms and nonchalant horse-drawn wagons.
That sense of eerie emptiness extends to this collection of black-and-white shots taken in Hanoi in the 1920s, serving as stock images for postcards and illustrations for books about the city under French rule. Be it major avenues or tiny lanes, the thoroughfares of Hanoi past hosted few pedestrians and fewer vehicles, so they appear breezy and tranquil, a far cry to the pandemonia of today.
This cognitive dissonance can be attributed to Vietnam’s skyrocketing population, the growth rate of which would quickly render even the most generously designed streets narrow and ineffective. When these images were recorded, Hanoi had a population of 81,000, compared to New York’s 5.6 million and Paris’s nearly 3 million. Flash forward to today and Hanoi’s size has ballooned to over 8.5 million people, while the streets depicted here have not changed much throughout the years.
Have a closer look at Hanoi in the 1920s via the images below:
A jewel shop on Hàng Bạc Street.
A customer browses jewelry options.
Jewelry makers hard at work.
A glass display showcasing valuable decor and accessories.
The fashion visual merchandising game was on point.
The intersection between Tràng Tiền and Trần Nhật Duật.
The building that housed the French Veteran Club, and then Unity Club. Today it has been demolished for an office.
Hat makers.
Inside the Hai Chinh hat workshop. It used to produce around 10,000 items a year.
The exterior of Hai Chinh.
The entrance to Saint Paul Hospital, which still exists today.
Tràng Tiền Street.
Tràng Tiền Street from the Hanoi Opera House.
Shops on Tràng Tiền.
Another perspective of Tràng Tiền.
Grands Magasins Reunis, a department store specializing in imported goods from Europe.
A view of Tràng Tiền from the Opera House.
A football match at the Stade Mangin, now Cột Cờ Stadium.
The exterior of Le Coq d’Or, a high-end hotel. Today it’s the Hòa Bình Hotel.
Students in the yard of Yên Phụ School.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes Turn and face the strange Ch-ch-changes Don’t want to be a richer man Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes Turn and face the strange Ch-ch-changes There’s gonna have to be a different man Time may change me But I can’t trace time. —– David Bowie 2004.
Friday, 04 August 2023. Written by Julie Vola. Photos courtesy of Julie Vola
Starting this September, Hôtel des Arts is undertaking a number of initiatives to celebrate Vietnam’s architectural and cultural heritage. One such effort is the Digital Exhibition: A Journey through Saigon’s Timeless Heritage which places links to Saigoneer Heritage section articles throughout the hotel so guests can enjoy in-depth explorations of topics that the boutique hotel believes are worthy of preservation.We often see archival images of old Hanoi, but these photos are different — they are personal. The following shots, which come from a collection of five photo albums, are the only surviving record of my two great-great-grandfathers’ presence in what was then Indochina.
I don’t know when exactly they arrived, but it was around 1880, right in the midst of the French colonization of Tonkin. One, named Vézin, was an entrepreneur or a contractor; the other, Louis Vola, was a civil engineer for the colonial administration.
The most remarkable subject in these albums is the documentation of early railway construction. We can see land being leveled, bridges being built, locomotives at train stations and workers toiling in the mountains.
After gathering some information from my father and uncle, it seems more than likely that both my ancestors worked together on the railway from Phủ Lạng Thương, which is just outside Hanoi, to beside the Chinese border at Lạng Sơn.
Neither of the two men has gone down in history; their names are almost completely forgotten. And it might be for the best. As Tim Doling explains in his book The Railways and Tramways of Việt Nam, Vézin was not known for his kindness:
‘Cause out on the edge of darkness There rides the peace train
On 18 March 1887, a technical commission nominated by Resident General Paul Bert approved the construction of a 98km military line leading from Phủ Lạng Thương (Bắc Giang), 50km northeast of Hà Nội, to the strategic border town of Lạng Sơn. This ligne de la porte de Chine (China gateway line) was conceived primarily to improve lines of communication between the border region and the Red River Delta and to facilitate the movement of troops and supplies to and from Lạng Sơn fortress during the Tonkin campaign.
The Department of Public Works entrusted the construction of the line to the Entreprise des chemins de fer du Tonkin, ligne de Phu Lang Thuong–Lang Son, which in turn engaged two sub-contractors—Entreprise Vézin and Entreprise Daniel—to carry out the work. However, the project was blighted from the start by poor management, cost over-runs and frequent attacks by roaming bands of brigands, who inflicted considerable damage on the chantiers during the difficult four-year construction period.
When initial attempts at voluntary recruitment failed to provide enough workers, thousands were forcibly requisitioned from neighbouring provinces to carry out the work. Treated brutally by overseers and obliged to work from dawn to dusk in difficult terrain and intense tropical heat, many succumbed to dysentery and cerebral malaria, while others deserted en masse.
Now come and join the living It’s not so far from you
Kidnappings were a regular occurrence on the construction sites of the Phủ Lạng Thương–Lạng Sơn railway. Monsieur Vézin himself was kidnapped in July 1892 by a band that included many of his own workers, who then demanded money for his safe return.
While it can be hard for me to read about such a troubled and immoral family history, it at least seems clear that Vézin eventually received the treatment he deserved.
Have a look at the railway’s construction below:
Now I’ve been crying lately Thinkin’ about the world as it is
Oh, peace train take this country Come take me home again
Everyone jump upon the peace train
This article was first published on Urbanist Hanoi in 2018.
What’s it all about, Alfie Is it just for the moment we live? What’s it all about Alfie, are we meant to take more than we give? “
Sunday, 03 March 2024. Written by Saigoneer. Photos provided by WWF-Cambodia
Saigoneer is partnering with WWF to explore and explain important initiatives for protecting the region’s natural environments and communities. Our efforts will not only detail how conservation is taking place, but why its such a crucial undertaking.At dawn, the blunt foreheads of Irrawaddy dolphins breach the calm surface of the Mekong River the way an epiphany enters one’s mind; unexpected, graceful and profoundly welcome.
I see friends shaking hands Saying, “How do you do?” They’re really saying I love you
Photo by Gerry Ryan.
The sight of these majestic mammals epitomizes the unique environment found in a 27,000-square-meter area in northeast Cambodia known as the Mekong Flooded Forest (MFF). The spectacular freshwater ecosystem includes wetlands, rocky and sandy riverine habitats and deep pools.
Considered a national living treasure, the Irrawaddy dolphins draw visitors from around the world, providing an important source of tourism in a generally low-income and overlooked region. The endangered dolphin’s presence serves as a measure of the ecosystem’s overall health as well. Along with giant freshwater stingray, giant barb, Mekong giant catfish, giant softshell turtle and other endangered species including hog deer, Eld’s deer, white-shouldered ibis, river tern and vultures, the dolphins are an integral element of community-based ecotourism (CBET) efforts that can help ensure the entire Mekong region enjoys a prosperous future.
I see trees of green Red roses too I see them bloom For me and you
Photo by Pha Nem.
The Environmental, Economic, and Social Significance of the Mekong Flooded Forest
The MFF’s stunning network of seasonally-submerged forests, rapids-beset riverbeds and floodplains support diverse plant and animal populations. 411 species of inland fish, 37 species of mammals, 281 species of birds, 52 species of reptiles and amphibians, and 674 species of vascular plants live in the 180 kilometer stretch of the Mekong River in addition to 65,000 people in 61 villages. These human communities have developed rich cultures and traditions dependent on the ecosystem.
Photo by Pha Nem.
MFF residents rely on the abundant waters for fisheries and the surrounding areas for agriculture. Thriving fish populations support ecosystems beyond the MFF as well. Most profoundly, the MFF contributes water, nutrients and migration routes to the Tonle Sap Lake, the world’s most productive inland fishery which is of immense importance to Cambodia’s overall economy and local livelihoods, providing 60% of all Cambodia’s protein intake. Marc Goichot, WWF’s Asia Pacific Freshwater Lead, explains: “Mekong floods are the main engine for the Tonle Sap Lake biological cycle that most species depend on. The exceptional productivity of the Tonle Sap Lake is very much correlated to the flood pulse and nutrient availability. Many fish species migrate between the Mekong and Tonle Sap. In fact, it may be the largest fish migration route on the planet.”
Photo by Nicholas Axelrod-Ruom.
Meanwhile, the greater Mekong ecosystem that impacts all of Southeast Asia benefits from the MFF’s role in groundwater formation, flood cycle regulation, natural pollution filtering, oxidation of surplus nutrients, erosion protection, and sediment retention. For example, some of the rich soil carried by the Mekong River through Vietnam can be traced back to the MFF.
The Mekong Flooded Forest at Risk
The threats to the MFF are nearly as diverse as the wildlife dependent on it. Illegal fishing and overfishing, poaching and illegal logging, coupled with unsustainable development contribute to ecosystem degradation. The precarious balance of sustainable local lifestyles is in danger as illegal and irresponsible natural resource use increases alongside a lack of financial and educational resources.
Photo by Thomas Cristofoletti.
Compounding the threats to the MFF are the hydropower developments nearby and upriver. To meet increasing energy demands, many dams have been constructed with more proposed, bringing with them an array of environmental challenges. The impacts of the dams on water flow, particularly in conjunction with climate change, upends the delicate flood and drought cycles that have sustained humans and animals for centuries. The dam’s reservoirs reduce nutrients in the river system and weaken the connection between the area and Tonle Sap Lake. They also disrupt the natural spawning and migration patterns of fish and bird species, disturbing wildlife food chains and populations.
The Impact of Holistic Community and International Collaborations
No single solution will safeguard the MFF from the many threats it faces and the dedication of numerous stakeholders will be necessary. Local individuals, groups and agencies are working together with international organizations such as WWF-Cambodia to implement nature-based solutions (NbS). Specifically, Climate Resilient by Nature – Mekong Project (CRxN Mekong) aimed to improve the region’s ecologically sustainable response to climate change and environmental degradation. It nurtured CBET initiatives; improved governance and protection for vulnerable ecosystems; supported Community Fisheries Groups (CFi) for sustainable resource management and diversified incomes; strengthened policy advocacy and environmental awareness; and emphasized gender inclusion. WWF-Cambodia collaborated with Cambodia’s Culture and Environment Preservation Association (CEPA) in Stung Treng Province and IIRR Cambodia in Kratie Province as well as local community members and leaders.
The colors of the rainbow So pretty in the sky Are also on the faces Of people going by
Photo by Sopheap Phim (left ) and Pha Nem (right)
WWF-Cambodia helped establish a variety of activities in pursuit of the desired outcomes. Households were provided fish fingerlings and new or repaired concrete tanks to raise them in as an alternative to illegally caught wild species. CFi offered training to female members on aquaculture product processing and labeling, marketing and competent financial management in addition to hospitality and tourist experiences. Bio-intensive gardens with 20 types of crops were established in households and at two schools to produce food and additional income sources, as well as to serve as educational resources for climate-smart agriculture techniques. The CBET involve local residents in tourism services including dolphin and birdwatching tours and facilitate the sale of indigenous crafts.
“My motivation and passion is from sustainable use of natural resources so that the next generation will have these resources,” explained Im Chak, a 63-year-old member of the Khsach Leav Community Fishery and River Guard in Kratie province. The continued support of these river guards is one of the CRxN Mekong’s most visible tasks. WWF-Cambodia helped to organize training classes for the guards to expand their knowledge of patrolling techniques and protocol, rivercraft operation, laws and enforcement to effectively safeguard natural resources. The courses were supplemented by the procurement of equipment including boats and engines, smartphones, lifejackets, power banks and headlamps.
Community fisheries patrol team. Photo by Sina Pha.
Carefully collected statistics can help explain the progress made since the CRxN Mekong project in Cambodia began in July 2022. As of the end of 2023, 2,458 individuals had been directly involved in NbS to protect and restore critical ecosystems and establish community resilience plans. 2,089 people had their vulnerability to climate change reduced via the adoption of technologies including solar panels. 370 people had been directly involved in newly established or enhanced livelihood activities such as ecotourism, fish raising and vegetable planting with 47% of targeted community members reporting a greater number of income sources for their households. 11,850 ha/km2 are now governed by or improved by management models with 72 river guards, 72 bird nest protection guards and 42 CFi helping safeguard against illegal and unsustainable activities.
Photos by Pha Nem.
What Success Looks Like for Local Lives
The CRxN program is perhaps best understood by examining specific individuals who have benefited from it. Kan Vannak, a 48-year-old father of four from Chroy Banteay Village in Kratie Province, for example, was an illegal fisherman as recently as 2020. Motivated in part by uncertain economic realities exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic and a decline in natural resource abundance, he took part in WWF-Cambodia’s educational activities which introduced him to the benefits of ecotourism. He participated in a variety of training workshops including those focused on boat operations and hospitality skills. He stopped illegal fishing and now works as a boat driver to supplement his income from planting rice, raising chickens and growing vegetables.
Kan Vanak at his home. Photo by Pha Nem.
As Vannak’s story underscores, protecting the MFF involves providing viable economic opportunities as alternatives to unsustainable activities. Skilled traditional scarf weaver, Yin Sam Onn from Keng Village in Kratie Province, for example, received technical guidance from the CRxN project as well as opportunities to showcase her work at various local, provincial and national exhibitions and CBET. The 70-year-old’s ability to sell her products will be enhanced by the growth of tourism in the region which will bring in customers with educated interests in sustainable support of local communities.
Yin Som Onn with her scarves. Photos by Pha Nem.
Similarly, Horn Thida, a 44-year-old mother of four from Khsach Leav Village in Kratie Province participated in training courses for solar panel installation and helped share information regarding reducing plastic use, amongst other topics relevant to the emerging ecotourism industry. She trained village members on how to prepare food, welcome guests, raise chickens and grow vegetables, and now earns money serving meals to tourists who come to witness the area’s splendorous wildlife. Reflecting on the changes observed in her home village she notes that women in particular are more skilled and brave, with economic independence helping them avoid domestic violence.
Horn Thida. Photos by Pha Nem.
The success of climate resilience and ecosystem safeguarding efforts in the MFF can also be observed via individual animals. If organizations like WWF-Cambodia in partnership with local communities achieve their goals, it will mean Irrawaddy dolphins continue to play in the deep waters that rush between riverbanks covered in lush vegetation. Difficult to spot, a quick glimpse of a tail fin flicking above the current may signal that this special region of the Mekong River has hope for a healthy future.
Photo by Tan Somethbunwath.
Climate Resilient by Nature (CRxN) is an Australian Government initiative, in partnership with WWF-Australia, advancing high-integrity, equitable nature-based solutions to climate change in the Indo-Pacific. Funding for this project in Vietnam is provided by the Mekong Australia Partnership – Water, Energy and Climate.
I see friends shaking hands Saying, “How do you do?” They’re really saying I love you.
But over the past few decades, the construction of hydropower dams has undermined the river’s capacity to support life: more than 160 dams operate throughout the Mekong Basin, including 13 on the river’s mainstream, with hundreds more either planned or under construction.
It’ a wonderful world, shame about the dominant species destroying our only home and killing each other!
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