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Công viên · The one piece of ground in the city that belongs, in practice, to everyone

Saigon's Parks

Every activity described elsewhere in this series — the birds, the kites, the sidewalk chess, the shuttlecocks, the tai chi at dawn — happens on the same handful of shared green spaces scattered across the city. This is the eighth page in our series on Saigon's passions, and in a sense the one that contains all the others: a look at the parks themselves, several of which turn out to have far stranger histories than the joggers and card players circling their paths today would ever guess.

From a viceroy's garden to the city's parks

Saigon's oldest park began as a private garden for one of the most powerful men in southern Vietnam, and the city's park system since has grown through colonial planning, wartime upheaval, and — in one of its stranger chapters — a citywide project to convert old cemeteries into public green space.

18th century

Lê Văn Duyệt, the powerful viceroy (Tổng trấn) governing all of southern Vietnam from Gia Định citadel, lays out an ornamental garden for his own residence, used for leisurely viewing and for watching hát bội, classical Vietnamese opera. After his death and the failure of the Lê Văn Khôi uprising, the garden falls into disrepair.

1859–1869

After seizing Saigon, French colonial authorities rebuild the garden alongside their new Governor's Palace (Norodom Palace, today's Independence Palace), which stands on part of the same grounds. In 1869 a new road separates the two, leaving a garden of just over 90,000 square meters — officially named Jardin de la Ville, Saigon's first public park.

1896–1902

Colonial institutions steadily move into the garden: a philharmonic society in 1896, a Freemasons' lodge in 1897, and in 1902 the Cercle Sportif Saigonnais sports club, complete with a football pitch considered the only one in the city fit to host visiting foreign teams, plus a swimming pool and tennis courts.

1920–1955

The park is renamed Parc Maurice Long, after a former Governor-General of Indochina, though Saigon residents continue calling it by its older folk names; see A name nobody can quite explain, below.

1954

Following the French withdrawal, the former Governor's Palace becomes the Presidential Palace, and the garden is renamed Tao Đàn — the name it still carries today.

1983

City authorities order two of Saigon's largest historic cemeteries relocated to make way for public green space: the Mạc Đĩnh Chi cemetery, originally a French colonial burial ground later used by the city's elite, and the Chí Hòa cemetery, historically used by ordinary residents. Thousands of graves are moved to outlying cemeteries over the following years.

1988

The former Mạc Đĩnh Chi cemetery reopens to the public as Lê Văn Tám Park, named for a teenage figure remembered from the resistance war; the former Chí Hòa cemetery becomes Lê Thị Riêng Park — both timed to mark the years following the tenth anniversary of national reunification.

Three ways a park gets made

Ask how any given green space in Ho Chi Minh City came to exist, and the answer usually falls into one of three distinct patterns of origin.

Born from a private garden

Tao Đàn's path

Some parks began as the private grounds of a powerful household — royal, colonial, or both in succession — later opened, formally or gradually, to the wider public as the city grew up around them.

Born from a cemetery

Lê Văn Tám and Lê Thị Riêng's path

A distinctly Saigon phenomenon: large historic burial grounds, increasingly incompatible with a dense, fast-growing city center, formally relocated and their land converted into public recreation space — the dead moved to the city's edge, the living given the ground they left behind.

Born from postwar planning

The path of the city's newer parks

Parks built more directly as civic infrastructure in the decades after reunification, designed from the outset as shared recreational space rather than repurposed from an earlier use — the most straightforward of the three origin stories, and increasingly the model for the city's newest green spaces.

What every park quietly contains

Despite their very different origins, Saigon's parks tend to converge on a similar daily rhythm and a similar set of features. Fixed outdoor exercise equipment — pull-up bars, elliptical trainers, simple resistance machines bolted into concrete — has become a near-universal fixture, installed specifically to support the pre-dawn tai chi and dưỡng sinh crowds described elsewhere in this series. Shaded paved paths accommodate the joggers and the sidewalk chess boards in equal measure; open lawns host đá cầu circles by day and family picnics by evening; and a scattering of ponds, gazebos and monuments, often dating from whichever era first shaped the park's grounds, give each one its own distinct visual signature even when the daily rhythm running through it looks much the same from park to park.

The clientele shifts by the hour more reliably than by the park: retirees and early risers claim the grounds before sunrise, students and office workers pass through at midday in search of shade, and families, teenagers and street vendors take over as the evening cools — three overlapping, largely unspoken shifts sharing the same small patch of green.

Places to discover

30/4 Park and its ground-level coffee culture

District 1, between the Notre-Dame Cathedral and the Reunification Palace

A small park in the very center of the city known for "cà phê bệt" — literally "sitting-on-the-ground coffee" — where young Saigonese buy a cheap plastic cup of iced coffee or tea from a nearby vendor and simply sit directly on the lawn to drink it, an informal evening gathering spot with no tables, no chairs and no fixed price beyond a few thousand đồng.

Tao Đàn's preserved old grave

Within Tao Đàn Park grounds, District 1

Amid the joggers, chess players and morning tai chi groups described elsewhere on this site, a single old grave has been preserved within the park grounds through every phase of the site's transformation — a small, quiet reminder that the park's manicured lawns sit atop more than two centuries of continuously overlapping use.

A name nobody can quite explain, and a wall that fell

Three competing stories behind one nickname

Long after its official name changed from Jardin de la Ville to Parc Maurice Long, Saigon residents kept calling Tao Đàn by an older, unofficial name: Vườn Bờ Rô. Nobody today can say for certain where the phrase came from, and three different explanations still circulate. One traces it to the French word préau, meaning a brick-paved courtyard, echoing the garden's early paved walkways. A second claims it's a garbled pronunciation of beaux jeux from jardin des beaux jeux — "garden of elegant games" — a reference to the park's early sporting and leisure facilities. A third, more colorful account claims "Bờ Rô" comes from a Vietnamese mispronunciation of "Peugeot" (rendered locally as "Pờ Jô"), the brand of the first automobiles used by senior French officials, once garaged at a stable near the park's edge before cars replaced horse-drawn carriages there. All three explanations remain in circulation; none has ever definitively won out.

A collapsed wall and a political rumor

In 1971, while the grounds were still the Mạc Đĩnh Chi cemetery, part of its western wall unexpectedly collapsed. According to the researcher Arthur J. Dommen, the collapse — occurring near the graves of former president Ngô Đình Diệm and his brother and adviser Ngô Đình Nhu, both buried there after their deaths in 1963 — set off rumors among Saigon residents that the event was an omen, one popularly read as pointing toward then-president Nguyễn Văn Thiệu's responsibility for Diệm's death eight years earlier. Whatever its cause, the collapsed wall entered local folklore as one more layer in a site whose transformation from colonial burial ground to Vietnamese national cemetery to public park has left behind rather more stories than any of its planners likely intended.

Four parks, four origins

Tao Đàn

A viceroy's garden

District 1

Saigon's oldest park, its grounds tracing an unbroken line from an 18th-century private garden through colonial "Jardin de la Ville" to today's tree-shaded green space.

Lê Văn Tám

A relocated cemetery

District 1

Once the Mạc Đĩnh Chi cemetery, burial ground of the colonial and later national elite, converted into public parkland in 1988 after a citywide relocation of graves.

Lê Thị Riêng

A relocated cemetery

District 10

Formerly the Chí Hòa cemetery, historically the resting place of Saigon's ordinary residents rather than its elite, converted alongside Lê Văn Tám in the same 1983 relocation program.

23/9 Park

Postwar civic space

District 1

A large, purpose-built recreational park near the backpacker district, home to the sidewalk chess and đá cầu circles described elsewhere in this series.

Practical info

Most parks are free and open from early morning until late evening, with the coolest and most active hours falling before 8am and after 5pm; midday hours in the dry season can be intensely hot with little shade in more open sections.

None of the activities described in this series require an invitation — walking through, sitting on a bench, or joining a circle of onlookers is the normal way any of it is experienced, by residents and visitors alike.

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