LITTLE SAIGON
It’s a story as old as Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Immigrants come to America, create their own enclaves to trade with each other, to share cuisine from the old country and to feel a sense of belonging in a new land. Little Italy in New York City, Chinatown in San Francisco and Oakland, Koreatown in Los Angeles — and Little Saigon in San Jose.
The Vietnamese began arriving in Santa Clara County in the late 1970s, drawn by the assembly and technician jobs at the dawn of Silicon Valley. San Jose’s original Little Saigon began on gritty Santa Clara Street downtown, when refugees moved into storefronts that had been shuttered by the rise of the suburban malls. The first Vietnamese grocery store opened across from the current City Hall. Then a banh mi shop, a pho restaurant, a mom-and-pop jewelry store, a nail salon, a Vietnamese video rental. Slowly a community formed. Some eventually moved to Lion Plaza on the East Side as the San Jose Redevelopment Agency bought out properties downtown.
Today, Little Saigon runs mainly on Senter, Tully and Story roads, a reimagination of a lost homeland, an attempt to retain a banished past. The passage of time and globalization have brought Vietnam and its exiled people closer.
That rich Vietnamese heritage is being celebrated this weekend at San Jose’s colorful three-day Tet Festival, which includes a lion and dragon dance, magic shows, carnival rides and food vendors. It continues through today at Eastridge Center mall.
But Little Saigon is worth exploring at any time of year to experience the vibrancy of the Vietnamese-American community and sense a tinge of its melancholy past at these places.
Lion Plaza
Situated at the corner of Tully and King roads, this is the original town square of Little Saigon. On any given day, men from the neighborhood would gather here to play Chinese chess and trade stories, while visitors frequent the restaurants and shops.
“The outdoor courtyard next to the food court was where I spent many morning hours talking and smoking with friends, while ordering food from the food court inside,” says Thang Do, CEO of Aedis Architects in San Jose, describing his life in the 1990s.
On weekends, vendors sell flowers, tropical plants, herbs and fresh fruits in an open-air market.
“It’s like a mini trip to a Vietnamese market, a bit of home to cure the homesickness,” says Quinn Tran, a former hightech executive.
Vietnamese-Americans from across the United States come here for the “seven courses of beef,” noodle soups and sauteed lobsters. “They say the food in San Jose is the best,” says Nha Trang restaurant owner Xuan Hong Nguyen, a celebrity chef whose cooking show airs on Vietnamese television nationwide.
Grand Century Mall and Vietnamtown
The two adjacent malls on Story Road are like Little Saigon 2.0 — newer, spiffier and more fusion-y. They house everything from pho restaurants to herbal-medicine stores. “The traditional coexists with the modern here,” Tran says.
Ex-ARVN (South Vietnamese military) soldiers, writers, artists and boulevardiers while away their time at the sidewalk Paloma Cafe here. It’s a great place to people-watch.
Duc Vien Buddhist Temple
Founded by a nun in 1980, the pagoda complex is a spiritual oasis amid the cacophony at McLaughlin Avenue and Tully Road. Walk among the areca palms and the flowering plumerias and one achieves a sense of peace. The main temple is packed with worshippers during the Lunar New Year or Buddhist holidays.
More than a dozen other Vietnamese temples — from the Lieu Quan Temple in San Jose to the Tam Tu Temple in Morgan Hill to the Tu Vien Kim Son Monastery in Watsonville — draw in the faithful and visitors.
“I can drop in any time, light an incense to Buddha, one to my parents, talk to the monks and feel whole again,” Tran says.
Viet Museum
Founded in 2007 by community leader Vu Van Loc, the museum at Kelley Park collects the history and mementos of South Vietnam and the trials and tribulations that followed the fall of Saigon. It not only evokes the tragedy of war and exile, but also gives voice to the strength and perseverance of the refugees.