The Norodom Palace, the 1867 jewel of French colonial architecture, was demolished in 1962. In 1961 and 1962, the South Vietnamese government was collapsing in on itself, and fighter pilots from a coup faction bombed the palace, then home to South Vietnam’s first family and Vice President’s office. One wing of the palace was destroyed, and 5 people were killed - though no one high ranking.

Rather than restore it, then-President Ngô Ðình Diệm - its resident of 8 years - ordered it demolished. He commissioned the currently standing Independence Palace in its place, from the up-and-coming 33 year old architect Ngô Viết Thụ, the 1955 First Prize winner of the Grand Prix de Rome. Working with civil engineer Phan Văn Điển, the new palace took 4 years to finish.

Authoritarian, nepotistic, and corrupt, Diệm didn’t survive long enough to move in; he famously fled from his temporary residence in what is now the Ho Chi Minh City Museum to Cholon in November 1963, and was assassinated with his brother in the back of a car, in the belief they were being led into exile.

The palace’s sole presidential resident, Nguyễn Văn Thiệu, lived and worked here from 1967 to the 1975 fall of Saigon. Many blame him personally for giving mixed orders with unclear goals when it became clear the Viet Minh were rapidly encroaching on Saigon; cynics believe he did so in order to buy himself enough time to secure exile in Taiwan. On April 21st, he announced his resignation on TV and flew with his family to Taipei; a mere 9 days later a Viet Minh tank famously rammed through the front gates of the palace, officially ending the Vietnam War.

Today, all that remains of the old Norodom Palace is a circa 1910s gatehouse on Nguyễn Du (now a bistro) and the low buildings surrounding the tennis courts, still the backside of the Cercle Sportif. The Independence Palace has been maintained perfectly, and the design is so emblematic of its era. It has a very institutional feel to it: it’s somehow light and bright and big, but not at all grand. It felt rather more like visiting a public library in a wealthy American suburb than a palace in the European sense. Some of the original furniture has been retained, and apart from some marvelous traditional lacquer paintings and burlwood veneered furniture, it’s nothing good.

All the tables are set with vintage French porcelain and crystal, but the glasses are placed to the left! They must have gotten confused while looking at an old picture or something. It just goes to show how quickly a century of cultural imperialism can fade from memory. Another faux pas that made me chuckle was the nonsensical English painted on the side of the plane parked on the grounds (“for emergency action suitable for use to aromatic . . .” ,etc.). The South Vietnamese flags were also painted on, but then Xed out, as if it were possible for someone to just fuel up, pop in, and start the war again.

All in all, I enjoyed my visit. The grounds are a pleasant place to walk and enjoy a spot of green in crowded, commercial HCMC, and you don’t even need to cross the street to buy a coffee, juice, or some noodles.