Everyone returns from Vietnam talking about the traffic. The noise, the perceived danger. Some point out that the bikes and cars and pedestrians move so slowly they have time to manoeuvre. But it’s the mesh of motorbikes that amazes Westerners.

Once these were the names we knew only from news broadcasts during what the locals here call the ‘American War’. Now they are once again buzzing with local life. An inevitable swarm of motor bikes clogs every street, every intersection, every spare space of footpath. Pedestrians walk on the streets, daring the bikes to swipe them, because the footpaths are crammed with parked ones.

The locals never seem to think about it. After all they have grown up on a bike. Squashed between mum and dad and a couple of others too probably, they’ve had their reflexes and synapses well developed long before they ever get on their own two wheels. On Saturday night in HCM City entire families wedge together and circle the squares. Couples make it their special night’s entertainment.

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Memories lie thick in Vietnam, though.

Our tour had begun in HCM City, a place that turns my nerves to jelly every time I cross a road. I had hoped Hanoi, our final city would be a gentle farewell. But I was unprepared for the surge of people who have moved here in the past decade, tripling the population to around six million. Here we watch in awe and uncomprehending amazement the demolition derby wackiness of a normal afternoon’s traffic: hundreds of bikes criss-crossing, with scarcely a chopstick between them.

Something else the locals never notice is the smell of their country. And no, it’s not the offensive sewers or gutters of some other Asian places, although there is that too occasionally. Nor the rank waterside pong where fish are gutted and scaled and skeletal cats stalk looking for off-cuts.

For me, anyway, it’s the fragrance of herbs – whole bunches of them: coriander, mint, Thai basil, Vietnamese mint – tossed as a bed for a dish of fried fish or crisp pancakes, themselves stuffed with bean sprouts and flash-fried prawns. And the inevitable bowls of sweet clear dipping sauces laced with garlic and chilli. At times it seems the entire country is on a massive herbal health kick. 

On one trip we stayed nearby in the four-star Rex Hotel, one of the older hotels in Saigon (the old name for Ho Chi Minh City) established over 80 years ago. It's in a great position, overlooking a square, and close to the very beautiful old Town Hall built in 1902-1908 in a French colonial style. It was renamed after 1975 as Ho Chi Minh City People's Committee. Illuminated at night, the building is not open to the public or for tourists. A statue of the namesake is found in park next to the building.

T-shirts are everywhere, and so are the skeins of cables draped along shopfronts and spooling over intersections, as this witty design suggests.

But the scent of change is in the air too.

With time to spare before dinner one evening, we took the opportunity to explore the nearby city blocks. I was keen to try a true Vietnamese coffee made by slowly dripping intensely strong coffee through a small metal container. I had already bought one on the street the night before. Next to Bach Dang (said to have the best ice cream in the world - coconut ice cream served in a coconut shell) we located Trung Nguyen Cafe. 

They served us a delicious this authentic drink, prefaced by a complimentary glass of green tea as we waited for the coffee to drip through (a fairly slow process) but well worth the wait.

Yet along with this traditional time-honoured way, the cafe is obviously also exploring modern methods.

The heritage of Vietnam's French colonisation is obvious in many places. There are still many buildings built in the French colonial style and painted a cheery light buttercup yellow. 

Fashionable boutiques offer stylish clothing, and it's easy to find dressmakers and tailors can whip up a garment in a day or so and.....

... the aroma of freshly baked crisp baguettes and loaves is in the air from morning until dark.

From there we strolled to the ‘mother-in-law’ markets - dubbed this by our guide who naughtily quipped that the goods were not good enough for wives or children!

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This 'weasel' coffee comes via the digestive tract of the Asian palm civet which dines on coffee berries and expels them, ready for producers to make the coffee. It's an unappetising idea, although aficionados have hailed it as superior. The downside is that increased demand has led to the setting up of farms where these lovely little animals are caged in order to make their droppings more readily available.

These tiny dried shrimp are used in many dishes and it is an ideal way to keep them without spoilage.

Like any self-respecting Vietnamese market, not only were their aisles of tabelcloths and sandals.....

..... hats and handbags and pkiddies clothes, but there was food in abundance. 

Dragon fruit (Pittaya) is breathtakingly beautiful but not always as tasty and aromatic as some other tropical fruits. Its colour and txture though - speckled as it is with little black seeds - make it a pretty addition to fruit or cheese platters.

Some other 'finds' in the market, though were not as attractive. Here we have sea cucumbers, or trepang, beloved by southeast Asian cooks who believe they have great health-giving properties.

In any market there are always tiny shellfish....

......and meaty sea snails, which the Vietnamese like to serve with vermicelli.

However the main foundation of Vietnamese is its fresh produce. Every meal is garnished with handfuls of fresh herbs, and the markets are stacked with vegetables and fruits of every description.

Young people are the same in every country and this young Vietnamese lad is plugged-in and tuned-out.

If there had to be a signature dish of Vietnam, then surely it would be pho (pronounced more like 'fur') as huge bowls of this healthy broth crammed with noodles and vegetables is available on every street.

After all, there are even the T-shirts to attest to its popularity!

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- Sally Hammond, video Gordon Hammond