Ho Chi Minh City

A harrowing, essential and unflinching account of the Vietnam War from the Vietnamese side — powerful photojournalism, the effects of Agent Orange, and captured tanks and aircraft in the courtyard. Deeply moving and not for the faint-hearted, it's the single most important thing to understand the city and country; sobering, but you'll leave changed. Allow a couple of quiet hours.

The eerie, perfectly preserved 1960s presidential palace where the war ended when a North Vietnamese tank crashed through its gates in 1975 — a time-capsule of retro state rooms, war bunkers and rooftop helipad. Fascinating modernist architecture and pivotal history in one; wander the war command rooms in the basement, and picture the fall of Saigon on the lawn out front.

The twin red-brick spires of Saigon's Notre-Dame, built by the French from materials shipped out from Toulouse, are the emblem of the colonial old centre. Set on a square beside the grand old post office, it's the classic Saigon photo (note it may be under restoration). Together they're the heart of French Indochina in the city — start a downtown wander here.

A gorgeous 19th-century post office beside the cathedral, often credited to the Eiffel workshops — a soaring, ochre-and-green vaulted hall of old maps, wooden phone booths and a giant portrait of Ho Chi Minh, still a working post office. Free, beautiful and delightfully atmospheric; buy a postcard, admire the ironwork, and step straight into colonial Saigon.

The city's iconic covered market under its landmark clock tower — a frenetic maze of stalls piled with fabrics, souvenirs, coffee, spices and, best of all, a food section dishing out bún, phở and fresh spring rolls. Touristy and you'll need to haggle, but a lively rite of passage; come for lunch, and return in the evening when the surrounding streets turn into a night market.

Saigon eats on the street, and it's a wonder — bánh mì (the world's great sandwich), steaming bowls of phở and bún, crispy bánh xèo pancakes, cơm tấm broken rice and grilled skewers, all from plastic-stool kitchens for a euro or two. Follow the crowds and the sizzle, and don't miss a bánh mì from a legendary corner cart. The city's greatest, cheapest pleasure.

Saigon runs on coffee, and it's an experience — thick, dark cà phê sữa đá dripping over ice and condensed milk, the frothy egg coffee, or a coconut-coffee smoothie, sipped on a tiny stool watching the motorbikes roar past. From decades-old hole-in-the-wall cafés to hip roasters in hidden apartment blocks, the café scene is the soul of the city. Pull up a stool and linger.

A wide pedestrian boulevard running from the ornate old People's Committee building (city hall) down to the river — where Saigon comes out in the evening to stroll, skateboard, snack and pose, with a Ho Chi Minh statue at the top and the famous graffiti 'Apartment Café' block halfway down. The city's living room after dark; join the crowds and feel the buzz.

The most beautiful temple in Cholon's Chinatown, dedicated to the sea goddess Mazu — a 19th-century jewel of intricate ceramic roof friezes, giant spiralling incense coils and drifting smoke, thronged with worshippers. Free and endlessly atmospheric; the highlight of a wander through the old Chinese quarter, with its markets, herbal shops and other ornate pagodas all around.

A wonderfully atmospheric 1909 Taoist temple, smoky and dim, crowded with fantastical carved wooden statues of gods and grimacing deities, a tortoise pond and clouds of incense — one of the most extraordinary pagodas in the city (Barack Obama visited on his trip). Small, free and mesmerising; a serene, otherworldly pause amid the roaring traffic of District 1's fringes.

Saigon's skyline has exploded, and its rooftop bars are the glamorous way to take it in — cocktails high above the neon and the endless streams of motorbike headlights, from historic hotel terraces to sleek sky-lounges. Dress up, ride the lift and toast the city; it's the perfect sundowner before diving into the street-level nightlife below. The high-rise flip side of Saigon's street energy.

The heart of backpacker Saigon and its most riotous nightlife — a neon-blazing pedestrian strip that erupts every night into a carnival of bars, blaring music, street-food carts, fire-breathers and crowds. Chaotic, cheap and wildly fun (or overwhelming); pull up a plastic stool with a cheap beer and watch the madness, or dive straight in. Not subtle, but unforgettable.

The grand old wholesale market at the heart of Cholon, built by a Chinese merchant around a beautiful central courtyard and clock tower — a frenetic, un-touristy warren of dried goods, spices, kitchenware and knock-offs, with a great local food court. A vivid plunge into working, wholesale Saigon; wander the galleries, snack at the stalls, and see the city's Chinese-Vietnamese trading heart.

The soaring Landmark 81 — Vietnam's tallest building, a slender tower on the riverbank — is the symbol of booming, modern Saigon, with a sky-high observation deck and bars for a dizzying view over the endless city. A striking contrast to the colonial-era sights; go near sunset to watch the metropolis light up, or admire it glittering from a riverside bar across the water.

See the city from its river — a dinner cruise or a simple hop-on boat glides past the colonial waterfront, the neon skyline and the gleaming new Thu Thiem towers as the sun sets and the lights come on. A relaxed, breezy break from the traffic and a lovely way to grasp the scale of the booming metropolis; the après-work water-bus is a cheap local alternative to the tourist cruises.