The Lunar New Year ambiance still fills Ben Thanh Market like a faint recollection.

Shopfronts still display red banners with wishes for good fortune and prosperity. However, time passes. At 10 o’clock on this busy Saturday morning, the market has returned to its regular cadence: a melody of voices, feet.

Vibrant Trade Center

Entering this area is like stepping into a time warp; the modern and the ancient coexist in exquisite harmony. A vestige of an earlier era and a vibrant center of contemporary trade, the market has stood for more than a century. The swell and fall of human sounds are absorbed by the lofty arched ceiling. People are milling around the crowded marketplace beneath it, with merchants yelling out their wares and shoppers stopping to peruse the silks, spices, and handmade crafts.

Visitors gawk in awe at the kaleidoscope of textures and hues as they make their way through the crowded aisles. The delicate silk scarves sway in the wind, their elaborate designs telling tales of Vietnam’s past. Light lights suspended from the ceiling cast a gentle shine on the lacquerware that lies upon them. An aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans wafts from a shady corner stall, where a happy vendor points to a menu in crisp Vietnamese script. You might be able to negotiate a lower price with a knowing grin and some charisma, even though it’s listed in dong.

A sensory paradise where one may gawk, taste, and perhaps even catch a glimpse of the Vietnamese spirit, this market is a haven for some. A French couple – I’ve heard they spoke to each other in the language of Molière – leans over a vendor’s table, their fingers caressing woven baskets brimming with exotic snacks like cashews and dried lotus seeds. Close by, a bunch of young Aussies on a backpacking trip are making an earnest but clumsy effort to haggle over the cost of a conical hat.

But at Ben Thanh Market, beyond the tourist-friendly kiosks, the real market opens up: a kaleidoscope of fresh seafood, meats, and vegetables spread out on wooden tables, waiting to be chosen by discriminating hands. The energy is distinct in this place. There is a heavy aroma of raw herbs and fish in the air, and every so often you can hear the splash of water as the vendors wash their stalls. Using their trained eyes, women armed with bamboo baskets quickly navigate from vendor to vendor, searching for slices of meat and recent harvests of vegetables.

A woman in a flowery blouse is bending over a heap of morning glories in one area, her fingers moving quickly as she neatly wraps the lush greens. A few feet away, a man with a sun-worn face carefully evaluates the freshness of a fish by flipping it with a deliberate flick of his wrist. Ben Thanh Market is more than a tourist trap because of these kinds of events; it is the lifeblood of Ho Chi Minh City, where locals and visitors alike gather to make connections, do business, and get by.

Take photos and buy

While posing beside their items, some are happy to have their picture taken. Some people, who are more reserved, just smile and shake their heads. A simple nod of understanding will enough in this situation. While pointing to a handwritten placard, one vendor chuckles as she offers scented cinnamon and star anise bags for sale: “Sure, take pictures, but go out and buy something!”

They do not cater to all customers. Residents with more disposable income tend to shop at upscale supermarkets, while those with less disposable income tend to shop at more affordable neighborhood markets. Ben Thanh is still a meeting spot for people from different walks of life, nevertheless.

As the morning draws near noon, a few sellers start to gather their belongings, signaling that their day is over. Glistening under the fluorescent lights, the seafood section displays its remaining moisture from the melting ice. A lady sorts shrimp with practiced dexterity, her fingers moving fast as she kneels over a basket of shrimp. Patting down and stacking neatly freshly prepared rice cakes, another vendor prepares for the afternoon rush with flour-dusted hands. A food stand’s grilled pork aroma attracts a queue of consumers anxious to get their hands on some “bánh m” or “bún thịt nướng”.

As the day progresses and more individuals arrive and depart, the market maintains its never-ending melody. The city is a symphony of sounds, with people talking, people walking, and the faraway call of a vendor offering the greatest bargain blending together. The allure of a song remains constant regardless of the frequency with which it is played.

At Ben Thanh Market, the real magic happens in the little things: e sound of grilling meat, sellers making fun of one other, the rhythmic clinking of chopsticks against ceramic bowls. This is more than a market; it is a narrative in motion. An intersection of time and space, where the relative importance of tradition and modernity is precariously balanced.

As the day progresses and more individuals arrive and depart, the market maintains its never-ending melody. The city is a symphony of sounds, with people talking, people walking, and the faraway call of a vendor offering the greatest bargain blending together. The allure of a song remains constant regardless of the frequency with which it is played.