A view of the Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment building in the morning - Photo: YEN TRINH
The fragrant aromas mingled with the bustling sounds from pho restaurants, beef noodle soup stalls, broken rice shops, flower shops, and vegetable stalls—all familiar yet intriguing. Many foreign tourists excitedly raise their cameras to take pictures before choosing a Vietnamese dish that has become familiar to the whole world .
The vibrant energy of this residential area, formed in the 1950s, emerges simply and attractively as a definition of peace amidst a world fraught with change. During these days commemorating peace and reunification in Vietnam, those with graying hair sit together, reminiscing about the past and sharing stories over their morning coffee.
A view of the Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment building in the morning - Photo: YEN TRINH
Stay in Saigon
One day in March 1975, Tran Chi Hieu (born in 1941, then 34 years old), a logistics captain in the South Vietnamese army in Dong Ha, Quang Tri , felt a burning anxiety inside him. The developments on the battlefield and behind the scenes indicated that a major upheaval was imminent.
Mr. Hieu is no longer a single soldier; he has a young wife, Kim Anh, whom he met while stationed in Quang Tri. He has a son who is just over a year old and a newborn daughter who knows nothing about the world, while his parents are still back home.
After several sleepless nights weighing the options of boarding a ship to America, the officer decided to leave his wife and children behind in Saigon. He squinted and recounted, "I had anti-war sentiments even before receiving the general mobilization order to join the army."
Back in my hometown of Can Giuoc, my parents also hid revolutionary cadres in their garden. Joining the army made me hate war even more because it was associated with death. People died without knowing why they died, no one could live in peace, and families were torn apart. Knowing that peace would return, I was worried, but honestly, I was very happy. Peace is good; it means we can live in peace, worry about food and clothing, and focus on our lives."
A view of the Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment building in the morning - Photo: YEN TRINH
Tourists often visit the Chessboard area to stroll around and eat.
Back in Saigon, a former student (Mr. Hieu had previously taught at Chu Van An High School) rented him an attic room on Cao Thang Street. After much anxiety, peace had truly returned. Overwhelming joy and gnawing worry filled the air, as unprecedented difficulties piled up. But despite the hardships, life remained in his own hands.
Mr. Hieu's expression returned to calm as he recounted the days when he and his wife lived precariously with their reluctant occupation of cutting hair and selling goods at the flea market, then discussed ways to make a more stable living.
Being resourceful and not resentful of life, Mr. Hieu thought about making and selling T-shirts. During the time of restricted trade and limited markets, small-scale businesses like his and his wife's faced many difficulties, but there was still an opportunity. Determined to succeed, he took a few shirts sent from overseas by acquaintances, took them apart, placed them on fabric he had bought back from the ration coupons, and then cut and sewed them.
From making inexpensive, handcrafted shirts, sometimes struggling to make a living, the couple saved up enough money to open a stall at An Dong Market. Orders increased, designs became more diverse, and sometimes they were able to send them to the Soviet Union for sale. "We loved the peaceful atmosphere in the Do Thanh residential area, so we saved up to buy a simple wooden house there. My wife and I worked hard to raise and educate our four children. Then, 'when the water rises, the weeds float,' and life gradually improved," he recalled nostalgically.
Tourists often visit the Chessboard area to stroll around and eat.
Now, Mr. and Mrs. Hieu have given up their clothing stall and are enjoying their old age at home. The story of the past years is encapsulated over a cup of coffee today, and his distant gaze seems to revive a past that is both painful and warm.
During the war, those eyes witnessed countless scenes of bombs and artillery fire on both banks of the Hien Luong River, and worried about their parents back home. In peace, those eyes must now confront their own fate during the war. But peace is a gain, not a loss. Mr. Hieu wrote this poem for his wife: "I owe you years of waiting / Raising our child through the storm, walking alone"...
After many ups and downs, every morning Mr. Hieu now dresses neatly in a shirt and trousers, wearing a watch like a diligent civil servant, but it's to go for a walk, enjoy the sunshine, and drink coffee.
He smiled kindly, recounting that his wife often walked faster, so she sometimes went to the market alone. Afterwards, she would carry the basket to the market, and he would come home to help prepare the vegetables and cook dinner. Their old age was warm and loving in their small house. Their two eldest children lived in Australia, and the other two had moved out, so the family would reunite every weekend.
Mr. Tran Chi Hieu sits reminiscing about the old days - Photo: YEN TRINH
first spring
Ms. Nguyen Thi Suong (74 years old, owner of Cheo Leo coffee shop in Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment complex) said she still hasn't forgotten the days when grenades exploded in the small neighborhood, and her parents took her and her sisters to stay with their uncle nearby.
Her memory remains vivid: the scene of the dilapidated wooden houses and the winding dirt road, just like the name "precarious" that her father gave the shop. "Back then, there were many times when we were at home and the sound of bombs exploding right next to our ears. Now that peace has come, we no longer fear the sight of bombs and bullets," she said.
Cheo Leo Cafe, open since 1938, has stood as a witness to both wars. Mrs. Suong is now one of the elderly residents of the area. After her parents passed away, she inherited and continued to maintain the simple, tranquil cafe amidst the increasingly opulent cafes of Saigon.
Family-run pho restaurant in Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment building.
Ms. Luong Ngoc Dung next to her family's three-generation noodle shop in an alley off Nguyen Thien Thuat Street - Photo: YEN TRINH
Yet Cheo Leo remains a lively and familiar meeting place. Sitting in the cafe, to the melodies of Pham Duy's song, "Sunday lovers, dating here and there / Drinking a glass of lemonade, tasting the sweetness of your lips," Mrs. Suong leisurely showed us some black and white photos: a picture of her mother holding baby Suong, next to her older sister in front of the old earthen house; a picture of young Suong in a floral ao dai; a picture of family reunions… as if the war had never passed. Many Vietnamese expatriates also often visit here, chatting about their days living in the apartment building, going to Ban Co market, wandering around the intersections of six and seven roads, attending Phan Sao Nam and Petrus Ky schools...
In alley 175 Nguyen Thien Thuat, the enticing aroma of rice noodles and fried onions from Hung Ky Mi Gia restaurant draws customers in. Now run by her son and his wife, Mrs. Luong Ngoc Dung recounts that the restaurant has been passed down through three generations. Initially located on Vo Van Tan Street, it later moved to the house where her parents lived before 1975. The restaurant is affectionately known as "Mr. Fat's Noodles" because of the image of the cheerful father standing in the kitchen preparing bowls of signature Chinese noodles for customers.
Watching her son scoop the noodle soup and her daughter-in-law collect the money, she smiled contentedly. Starting from the ground floor of their shared family home, their business prospered, so they rented the space across the street. Their menu was extensive, offering traditional noodle soup, mixed noodle soup, seafood noodle soup, and dim sum like dumplings and steamed buns…
Her parents came from Chaozhou and chose this area as their place of residence. Initially, they sold pork at the Ban Co market. After peace was restored, her parents switched to opening a noodle shop. "Back then, we bought used tables and chairs to save money. Gradually, business improved, and we were able to renovate the house," she recounted.
Ms. Nguyen Thi Suong, owner of Cheo Leo coffee shop, during a morning when welcoming customers - Photo: YEN TRINH
The peaceful atmosphere of the Do Thanh residential area.
Turning into block B of the Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment complex, we met Mr. Dao Xuan Minh (68 years old) sitting and chatting on a stone bench opposite the beverage shop of his "old friend" Nguyen Phuoc Chung (56 years old). Mr. Minh said: "My house is on Ly Thai To street, I come here to sit and have fun, watching people go by, especially in the evening when it's very lively."
Recalling the peace day of April 30, 1975, he said that he was 17 years old then. The war had left behind much chaos, but together with his parents, the young man quickly adapted to a new life. From a tricycle driver, he saved up to buy a truck to transport furniture, and together with his wife, raised three children and provided for their education.
The whole family no longer lived in the old Ấn Quang apartment building when his daughter bought a house. Mr. Chung, originally a resident of District 1, fell in love with the girl from Bàn Cờ and married her. He worked as a motorbike taxi driver, and in his free time, he helped his wife sell drinks and guard the parking for visitors to the apartment building. Life continued peacefully like that.
The peaceful atmosphere of the Do Thanh residential area.
Mr. Dao Xuan Minh's family wore traditional attire to celebrate the Lunar New Year.
Old lands welcome new people.
From 5 am, Ms. My Phuong (50 years old, owner of Kim Pho restaurant in block C of Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment building) and her husband have already opened for business. Beside the glass display case full of rare beef, beef meatballs, and a steaming pot of broth, she busily serves pho to customers, while a few delivery drivers pull up to wait for deliveries.
Taking a break, Ms. Phuong recounted that her husband's family had been making pho, opening a restaurant in the Cach Mang Thang 8 area since 1987. Originally from Tay Ninh , she married a man from Saigon 15 years ago, learned to cook pho, and then opened her own restaurant in this area. "Because there are no overhead costs, each bowl only costs 45,000 dong. The customer base is stable here. This area is close to the market, schools, and hospitals, so the cost of living is relatively affordable," she shared.
Ms. My Phuong is busy running her family's pho restaurant in the Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment building.
Mr. Dao Xuan Minh often visits Mr. Nguyen Phuoc Chung's house to chat - Photo: YEN TRINH
Ms. Phuong and her husband are among many families who came to live in Ban Co in later years, adapting to the rhythm of life and prospering. As for the older generation like Mr. Hieu, Mr. Minh, and Ms. Suong, this land has been very kind to them, including growing up during the war and understanding the value of peace. Ms. Suong happily shared that for over a decade, the Cheo Leo coffee shop has become widely known, and the "traditional Saigon filter coffee" style is still popular even though she doesn't promote or advertise it.
On a hot April afternoon, from inside the small shop, the old song echoed, "After enduring torrential rain and snow, only then can we truly appreciate the sunny days…". During wartime, these concerns seemed immense: the fate of the nation, the lives of families.
With peace restored, even small, everyday worries become sources of happiness, like Mrs. Suong and Mrs. Dung worrying about who will inherit and manage the Cheo Leo noodle shop and cart. The shop survives not only because of the owners but largely because of the loyal customers who have been there for decades. If the shop is closed for a day or two, people will inquire about it, express their sadness, and some will travel halfway around the world to find it but can't.
The peaceful atmosphere of the Do Thanh residential area.
Chessboard connects the past and the present.
A 1955 map of Saigon shows Ban Co stretching from Le Van Duyet Street (now Cach Mang Thang 8 Street) to Ly Thai To Street. The alleys, like chessboard squares, with wooden houses and walls, provided convenient access to other districts. Within the Vuon Chuoi - Ban Co area were the Do Thanh residential complex, Nguyen Thien Thuat apartment building, and the Ly Thai To railway workers' housing complex…
Walking through the Chessboard area, visitors can easily feel the vibrant energy from early morning until midnight. The red flag with a yellow star flutters on the balconies of apartments and townhouses that still bear the marks of the past, adding a nostalgic touch to photographs taken by photographers and tourists.
The word "peace" has healed the wounds of war, allowing people in all regions to live in the "normal season" of life. "The normal season, the joyful season…" resonates in the song "The First Spring" by composer Văn Cao, simple yet incredibly precious.
Source: https://tuoitre.vn/mua-hoa-binh-mua-vui-o-ban-co-20260427212952961.htm
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