Saigon Stopover: A Night in Vietnam’s Wartime Capital

Exploring a Legendary Journalist Hotel and the Cu Chi Vietcong Tunnels en Route to Laos

As part of a longer 10-day journey to trek through remote hill tribe villages in northern Laos, my friend Sterling and I made a brief but unforgettable overnight stop in Ho Chi Minh City—formerly known as Saigon. It was my third time in Vietnam, but my first visit to this sprawling southern metropolis. Flying through Saigon was the most convenient (and affordable) route to Laos, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to finally experience Vietnam’s largest, most modern city—especially one so steeped in wartime history.

Note: Saigon was officially renamed Ho Chi Minh City in 1976, in honor of the revolutionary leader Ho Chi Minh, the founder of communist North Vietnam. The renaming came after the U.S. withdrawal and the North Vietnamese victory in the war—a conflict that claimed the lives of nearly 4 million Vietnamese and over 55,000 Americans.

Map of Hoh Chi Minh City

Arrival in the Shadows of History

We arrived late at night via EVA Airlines, after a long layover in Taipei. I had arranged a complimentary airport pickup in advance, and sure enough, a free taxi was waiting to greet us when we landed.

Our destination: the Caravelle Saigon Hotel, newly renovated and now officially a 5-star property. It’s far more polished and luxurious than it was during the war years when it served as a buzzing headquarters for foreign correspondents covering the Vietnam War. I specifically chose this hotel out of nostalgia, having grown up watching films like Good Morning, Vietnam and more recently, Zac Efron’s The Greatest Beer Run Ever. In that movie, Zac’s character visits the Caravelle’s rooftop bar to get information from war reporters on how to reach American bases—a scene that stuck with me.

The Rooftop Bar: Echoes of the Past, Dressed for the Present

We wasted no time. Bags barely dropped in our room, we headed straight up to the famous rooftop bar. It’s been completely modernized:

• The original bar once sat in the middle of the floor, encircled by bamboo curtains and war-hardened journalists sipping whiskey.

• Today, the bar has been moved, the bamboo is long gone, and sleek design has replaced vintage charm.

• The only relic left: the original floor tiles—silent witnesses to decades of history.

Despite the changes, the view of the city was still breathtaking, and the live music added a nice ambiance. The Sunday night crowd was small and mostly foreign tourists, but we didn’t linger too long.

Wandering Through Colonial and Communist Eras

Instead, we set out on foot to explore the nearby streets. The neighborhood around the hotel is a fascinating mix of:

• Old French colonial architecture, dating back to the 1800s, beautifully preserved and softly lit at night.

• New communist monuments, including a prominent statue of Ho Chi Minh, watching over the city that now bears his name.

The contrast between colonial grandeur and revolutionary iconography felt like a quiet tug-of-war between past and present—a visual reminder of Saigon’s layered identity.

Our Stay: Affordable Luxury

Back at the Caravelle, our room delivered on its 5-star promise:

• Comfortable beds with plush linens.

• Floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of Ho Chi Minh City’s glowing skyline.

• And the best part? All for a price that’s incredibly affordable by Western standards—something that continues to make Southeast Asia such an appealing destination.

Photo of American war correspondants that were based at the Caravelle hotel during the war

Skybar lounge at Caravelle Hotel

View from skybar lounge

Monument Statue of Hoh Chi Minh

French colonial era hotel from the 1800s across the street from the Caravelle Hotel

Throughout our time in Saigon—and especially at the Cu Chi tunnel complex—we noticed the frequent presence of socialist murals promoting community action. These bold, colorful artworks often depict idealized scenes of workers, farmers, students, and soldiers united in patriotic harmony, building the nation together.

The Ben Duoc Cu Chi Tunnels: Into the Belly of the War

Given the short amount of time we had in the city, I arranged a private pickup and guide to take us from our hotel early in the morning to the Ben Duoc section of the Cu Chi Tunnels, and then directly to the airport for our afternoon VietJet flight to Vientiane, Laos.

This was something I’d been wanting to see for years—a glimpse into the gritty underground world of the Vietcong during the Vietnam War.

A Monument to Victory

From the moment we arrived, it was clear that this wasn’t just a war site—it was a monument to Communist Vietnam’s victory over the United States.

• Portraits of Ho Chi Minh welcomed us at the entrance, his image looming large over the complex.

• Throughout the grounds were trophy displays of captured and destroyed American war equipment—tanks, helicopters, artillery, and aircraft.

• Many came with informational plaques stating the equipment had been taken in battles that led to the deaths of American soldiers—a sobering detail that added gravity to the visit.

• There were also displays of American bombs that had failed to detonate during the war. According to our guide, the explosives were later removed and repurposed into landmines and homemade ordnance, which were then used against American troops.

Booby Traps and Psychological Warfare

• In one section, we were shown a chilling variety of booby traps designed to cause instant death or agonizing injury to anyone who ventured into the tunnels uninvited. From hidden spike pits to swinging traps, they were cruel in design and horrifyingly effective.

• This wasn’t just a war of firepower—it was a war of shadows, traps, and psychological terror.

The Tunnel Experience: Cramped, Hot, and Humbling

• The tunnel complex was once massive, stretching hundreds of kilometers from Cambodia into Saigon, allowing Vietcong fighters to ambush, disappear, and reappear anywhere, often catching U.S. forces off guard.

• Many tunnels in the region remain untouched, still too narrow and fragile to explore. A few have been widened for tourism, but even these were tight for someone of my size.

• At one entrance, I could barely squeeze my shoulders through. Once inside, crawling on my knees through the hot, dusty, and claustrophobic tunnel left me pouring in sweat.

• On emerging from one of the narrow exits, I must have looked so out of place that a group of Vietnamese tourists started taking photos of me. One woman even posed beside me while her husband snapped a picture, laughing good-naturedly at my awkward squeeze.

Going Deeper (Literally)

• On one longer stretch—a tunnel about 50 yards long—our guide left with a soldier and told us to follow behind using our flashlights.

• As we crawled forward, the darkness, tightness, and heat became disorienting. At one point, I felt genuinely overwhelmed by the confined space, but kept moving forward, motivated by the idea that real soldiers once lived and fought down here.

By the time I emerged, I had a newfound respect for the sheer courage and endurance it must’ve taken—not just for the Vietcong fighters who spent years underground, but also for the American “Tunnel Rats”, young soldiers sent into these hellish passages to root out the enemy, facing booby traps, snakes, and constant threat of ambush. Their role came with a staggering 33% casualty rate—among the highest of the war.

An American tank that was seized in a battle by the Vietcong in the area during the war

American bombs dropped in the area that did not detonate during the war

Me exiting the tunnel while being photographed by Vietnamese tourists   

Sterling in a tunnel entrance

Me carefully navigating the tunnels

A booby trap spikes we were told would typically be laced with snake and scorpion veneom to inflict maximum damage

A tomb bat that we encountered in one of the tunnels seldomly visited by tourists

A display of different types of booby traps with a background mural of american soldiers in the being injured by them

Portrait of Hoh Chi Minh

Life-sized wax figures of Vietcong soldiers. A large number of them were women. 

Rattling Off a Few Rounds

• After crawling through the past, we returned above ground to visit the nearby army shooting range.

• We each purchased a clip of AK-47 bullets and took turns emptying them in semi-automatic bursts into distant jungle targets.

• Accuracy wasn’t something we were allowed to assess, but the experience—firing one of the most iconic weapons of the war—added a visceral endnote to the morning.

Sterling shooting an AK47 in the Vietnamese Army shooting range

A Bumpy Ride to Goodbye: Airport Drama and an Unexpected Detour

After finishing our tunnel tour and squeezing off a few rounds at the shooting range, we jumped back in the car and headed straight for the airport. Unfortunately, what should’ve been a quick drive turned into a stressful crawl through some of the worst traffic I’ve ever seen. Saigon’s streets were packed—a chaos of honking cars and a swarm of motorbikes weaving in every direction. We sat motionless for long stretches, slowly watching the minutes tick toward our departure time.

Eventually, we made it to Tan Son Nhat International Airport, sweaty and anxious but relieved to be on time. Check-in seemed to be going smoothly—until it suddenly wasn’t.

When it was Sterling’s turn at the counter, the agent flipped through his passport and shook her head. She pointed out that his passport was a few months shy of the required six-month validity rule for entering Laos. Despite his pleas, it didn’t matter—the airline refused to let him board. The rule was strict, and Sterling, unfortunately, fell just short.

It was a gut-punch moment. After such a great 24 hours in Saigon, our plans were suddenly derailed.

I advised him to reroute to Thailand, hoping he could enter Laos overland and reconnect with me there—or, in the worst case, meet up again in Chiang Mai, Thailand, at the end of the trip. It wasn’t ideal, but given the circumstances, it was the best option we had.

Sadly, we had to part ways at the departure gate. I boarded the flight alone to Vientiane, where three more friends were already waiting. Ahead of me: a trek deep into the hill tribe regions of northern Laos. Behind me: a whirlwind layover filled with history, nostalgia, adventure—and a bittersweet farewell.