Back

Phú Mỹ Hưng · From "throw a buffalo in and it sinks" to Vietnam's model city

District 7

In 1993, investors sent to scout this stretch of the Nhà Bè marshland reportedly took one look and refused. Locals had a saying for how soft the ground was: throw a buffalo in and it sinks without a trace. Three decades later, it's Vietnam's first fully master-planned city — and home to one of the largest Korean communities in Southeast Asia.

History

Almost everything about District 7's built environment is recent by the standards of this site — but the speed and scale of what replaced the marshland is itself the story worth telling.

Before 1997

This land is part of rural Nhà Bè district: low-lying, thinly populated, criss-crossed by canals, with an industrial workforce making up under 1% of local employment in 1990 and among the highest poverty rates in the greater Saigon area.

1991

The Tân Thuận Export Processing Zone — Vietnam's first — breaks ground on the Tân Thuận Đông peninsula, the initial foothold for what will become a much larger development push south of the city.

1993

The Phú Mỹ Hưng Development Corporation is founded as a joint venture between Vietnam's state-owned IPC and Taiwan's CT&D Group, tasked with two things: building the 17.8 km Nguyễn Văn Linh Boulevard, and developing a new urban district along it. The company invests US$2 million in an international planning competition, drawing entries from firms including Skidmore, Owings & Merrill and Kenzo Tange & Associates.

6 January 1997

District 7 is formally established by splitting nine wards away from Nhà Bè district, covering roughly 3,600 hectares.

2000

The first residents move into the Phú Mỹ Hưng urban area, seven years after the swamp that once made investors balk.

2000s–2010s

A Korean community, initially concentrated near Tân Sơn Nhất airport in Tân Bình district, gradually relocates to Phú Mỹ Hưng, drawn by modern infrastructure, planned green space, and — as more than one resident has told local reporters — golf courses within walking distance.

Today

District authorities count roughly 11,000 Korean residents and some 70,000 foreign residents overall — one of the highest concentrations of any district in the city.

2025

A citywide ward reform redraws District 7's internal boundaries, though Phú Mỹ Hưng's master-planned street grid remains physically unchanged.

Old names along a new road

Long before Nguyễn Văn Linh Boulevard existed, the road from Tân Thuận bridge to the tip of Nhà Bè carried some of the most vivid folk place-names in the whole city — nicknames a generation of bus conductors called out stop by stop.

Bờ Tua Hai

"Watchtower Two Bank"

Named for a French-era watchtower once positioned along this strategic road to monitor the southern approach to the city — a detail long forgotten by most residents, but still preserved in the informal name.

Bờ Hột Vịt

"Duck Egg Bank"

A roughly 180-meter stretch near the Huỳnh Tấn Phát–Phú Thuận intersection, running from the road's edge to a canal now spanned by the Phú Thuận bridge into Phú Mỹ Hưng — its origin story lost, but its name still used by older residents.

Bờ Đắp Mới

"Newly Filled Bank"

Marking a stretch of road built up over reclaimed marshland at the Nguyễn Thị Thập–Huỳnh Tấn Phát intersection — as late as the 1980s, residents recall the same stretch as a dirt road running between rice paddies and nipa palm swamp, unrecognizable next to the district that grew there since.

A city planned before it was built

Master planning on a scale new to Vietnam

Where nearly every other district on this site grew organically — hamlets absorbed into markets, markets absorbed into neighborhoods — Phú Mỹ Hưng was designed whole, before a single resident arrived. Architecture firms including Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, Koetter Kim & Associates and Kenzo Tange & Associates competed for the master plan, which called for building density capped at roughly 26% and a floor-area ratio of 1.6 across the 433-hectare central zone — figures closer to a low-rise American suburb than a Vietnamese inner city.

The plan deliberately worked with the area's existing canal network rather than filling it in, threading waterways through the development as landscaping rather than treating them as obstacles — a rare instance, in this city's development history, of water shaping the plan instead of being planned around after the fact.

Places to discover

"Phố Seoul," Saigon's Korean street

Bùi Bằng Đoàn street, Tân Phong ward

Walk this street after dark and the signage flips almost entirely to Hangul: Korean restaurants, cafés and supermarkets line both sides, and it's common to hear more Korean than Vietnamese spoken on the sidewalk. One resident interviewed by local press compared it directly to a street in Seoul — an observation echoed often enough that "Phố Seoul" has become the street's informal name in both Korean and Vietnamese conversation.

Crescent Mall

101 Tôn Dật Tiên street

Opened in 2011 on reclaimed land within the Phú Mỹ Hưng master plan, this crescent-shaped mall sits beside an artificial lake designed as the development's centerpiece — a deliberately theatrical setting for a shopping center, in a district where almost every major landmark was designed at the same time as the streets around it.

Two stories the guidebooks skim past

"Throw a buffalo in and it sinks"

When economist Phan Chánh Dưỡng first proposed siting an export processing zone on the Tân Thuận Đông peninsula in the early 1990s, foreign investors sent to inspect the land reportedly shook their heads and left. As Dưỡng later recalled, one skeptic put it bluntly: this ground is so soft that if you throw a buffalo into it, it sinks — never mind a factory. The area had among the lowest industrial employment and highest poverty rates in greater Saigon at the time, and almost no one believed a modern district could be built there. The Tân Thuận zone broke ground anyway in 1991, followed two years later by the far larger Phú Mỹ Hưng project — proof, depending on who tells the story, either of visionary planning or of stubbornness that happened to pay off.

How a Tân Bình neighborhood packed up and moved south

Long before Phú Mỹ Hưng became synonymous with Saigon's Korean community, that community was concentrated elsewhere: around Phạm Văn Hai street, the K300 apartment complex, and the area near Tân Sơn Nhất airport's old Superbowl bowling alley, in Tân Bình district. Over roughly the past decade, as Phú Mỹ Hưng's infrastructure matured, the community migrated south almost as a block — drawn, residents say, by wider streets, more green space, and the simple convenience of a golf course within walking distance. The relocation was gradual enough that it went largely unremarked outside the community itself, until "Phố Seoul" on Bùi Bằng Đoàn street had fully eclipsed the old Tân Bình cluster as Saigon's best-known Korean neighborhood.

Four addresses across Phú Mỹ Hưng's food scene

Marduk Korean Restaurant

~480,000–800,000 VND

9 Bùi Bằng Đoàn street

One of the more upscale addresses on "Phố Seoul," popular for hanwoo-style grilled beef courses — reservations recommended on weekends, when the Korean-speaking clientele fills tables early.

King BBQ Buffet

~350,000–500,000 VND

Crescent Mall, 101 Tôn Dật Tiên street

A Korean barbecue buffet chain with a branch inside Crescent Mall, known for a house marinade recipe attributed to a Korean head chef with decades of experience — a reliable, easy option for groups.

San Fu Lou

~200,000–500,000 VND

Crescent Mall, 101 Tôn Dật Tiên street

Cantonese dim sum and roast meats, a reminder that Phú Mỹ Hưng's international dining scene extends beyond its Korean core into a genuinely mixed regional Asian mall food culture.

Cơm chay Tuệ

~60,000–150,000 VND

101 Nguyễn Bính street, Tân Phong ward

A vegetarian Vietnamese buffet a short walk from Crescent Mall — a lower-key counterpoint to the mall's international food court, popular with local office workers.

Getting there

District 7 sits south of the city center, connected by Nguyễn Văn Linh Boulevard and, from District 4, the Tân Thuận and Kênh Tẻ bridges — a scooter or taxi ride of roughly 20-25 minutes from District 1, traffic depending. Once inside Phú Mỹ Hưng itself, the master-planned street grid, wide sidewalks and lake-front paths make it one of the most comfortable districts on this site to explore on foot or by bicycle.

Bùi Bằng Đoàn street comes alive after dark, when its restaurants fill and its Korean-language signage lights up — worth timing a visit for the evening rather than the afternoon.

Next