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Published: July 31st 2009
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Floating market
Some women hawking their wares Canadian Geisha in Can Tho
While waiting for my laptop to get fixed, I decided to head South into the Mekong Delta to visit the floating market. Having missed the experience in Thailand, I was really looking forward to witnessing this early morning spectacle. I caught a local bus to the town of Can Tho where I was, as usual, adopted. This time my personal guardian angel took the form of a young Vietnamese woman with a flawless command of the English language. The usual litany of questions were brought forward, and having ascertained that I was indeed traveling alone, she felt that it was her duty to look after me until I arrived in Can Tho safe and sound. This involved giving me a running commentary of the surrounding landscape, offering suggestions as to hotels and points of interest in town, and holding my hand while I went to the bathroom. Well, maybe not that far. Although she did hold my hand on the way to the bathroom, and pushed some toilet paper into it right before I stepped into the stall.
Under such attentive care, I couldn’t help but arrive at my destination hale and happy. The
On the way to the market
Heading to the second market and more traditional one shuttle service dropped me off in the center of town where I jumped into an internet café and restaurant. While polishing off my meal, I noticed a local guy looking at me from across the room. I smiled briefly before breaking eye contact. Sensing eyes upon me, I looked back up a moment later to see him smiling and gesturing me over. Deciding that there was no harm in a quick conversation, and always willing to oblige the curiosity of the locals, I wandered over. He quickly jumped up to get me a chair, and entreated me to sit. Once I did so, the usual questions were again brought forward;
“What’s your name?”
“How old are you?”
“Where do you live?”
“How long are you staying in Vietnam?”
“Are you married?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Do you want one?”
etc, etc, etc
Most of these questions were asked via sign language as he had a fairly weak grasp of the English language. Several times he barked a command to our waitress, and she would dutifully come over to translate some pertinent point. He even resorted to dialing up his brother and then handing me the cell phone -
so excited to have made a Western friend that he wanted to show off his good fortune.
Despite having seen me devour a large pizza with extra toppings, he still offered to split his extra rare steak and French fries (which he had the waitress cut into itty bitty chopstick-conducive pieces). When I declined, he barked yet another order out at the waitress and she soon came trotting out with a plate full of fruit, picked fresh from her garden. Declining his offer of beer, an extra large bottle of water found it’s way in front of me instead. We then commenced to have an excruciatingly painful conversation - largely made up of awkward silences where he would stare intently at me and I would stare intently at my fruit. After about 15 minutes of this, just when I was beginning to plot my escape, a group of his friends arrived. I’m not sure whether this had been prearranged, or whether they were invited during one of his frequent cellphone calls. Either way, I knew that my departure would be delayed a bit longer. Sadly, his friends knew less English then he did, which meant that I got to
Boys and their toys...
of course, our driver didn't even offer to let the women drive... enjoy the dubious pleasure of smiling blankly while being the subject of intense and unintelligible conversation. Interspersed in this flurry of Vietnamese were the oft-repeated words of “beautiful girl”, which is why I now know how to say “Hello”, “Thank You”, and “Beautiful girl” in the local language. How useful this addition to my scant repertoire will be, remains to be seen.
Having finished the plate of fruit, and wanting to avoid looking like a vapid idiot by continuously smiling and nodding at the crowd of staring men, I then turned my attention to my 2L bottle of water. I consumed the entire thing in approximately 15 minutes, which resulted in me rushing to the toilet every 5 minutes for the rest of the night. After one such bathroom break, and upon rejoining the group, my Vietnamese friend had the waitress come over and translate that he wanted to get me a hotel room for the night so that he could “look after you, beautiful girl”.
Cheque please!
I decided that enough was enough, and after allowing myself to be put on display for him and his cronies for the past hour, it was time for me
The sweet smell of fruit...
...and the rotten smell of durian... to get the hell out of there. Ironically enough, his wife showed up just as I was stammering out my “no thank you’s” and “goodbyes”. She seemed quite nice, and not the kind of woman who would put up with a philandering husband. But even still…
The following morning, I joined a 5am boat trip out to the famous floating market. It was a pretty incredible look at the local culture. I had thought that the experience would be tranquil and calm, but amazingly enough it was just as chaotic and crazy as the on-land version. Our driver weaved in and out of the shouting, bustling boats - narrowly avoiding head-on collisions. It was total sensory overload and I’m so glad that I made the detour down here to see it. We were one of the few tourists on the water, which contributed to the feeling that this was a genuine look at the local way of life versus a show put on for Western cameras. Incredible. We ended the trip with a slow and meandering cruise up the many narrow canals on our way back to town (where I subsequently avoided the internet café and restaurant from the
Smiling hello
Getting close and personal with some durian... previous night). I ended up having lunch with the other people on the boat and then joining them for drinks later. It was one of those picture perfect days, and while I can't claim to be glad that my laptop broke, I was still glad of the consequences.
Signing out,
Jen
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