"Hello, Hell" (aka, "Good Morning, Vietnam")

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I am in hell. After coming from the paradise of Cambodia and I must have used all my good traveling luck. I hope I get some back. Let me start over.

Yesterday morning Dy took me to the National Cambodia Museum, which was incredibly interesting and I learned a lot about the Buddhist and Hindu religions in Cambodia. We then went to a restaurant made of of several rows of bamboo and straw huts with hammocks. You lay around and order food ($4 for two meals and a soda) and we did just that for about an hour an a half. He took me to one more temple, then back to the hostel to take a shower (they let me use an open room so I could shower for no charge) then off to the airport. I should have know bad things were coming when I had to pay $25 to leave the country and my credit card was denied three times. Finally, on the fourth try it worked (with a near zero balance it better work) so I boarded the plane for a 45-minute flight to Ho Chi Minh City.

A French-speaking Swiss-born half Vietnamese man picked me up and took me to the hostel. He turned out to be the manager of a chain of these hostels and incredibly animated/obnoxious in a way that only a French speaking man could.

I was immediately concerned because the lobby was a dump. The room was no better. As Swissman used my laptop to run my credit card I became more and more freaked out; hairs on the bed, cigarette butt on the window sill, gecko on the wall; curtain rod broken and barely hanging on, bathroom disgusting. I asked to see another room. This one appeared better at first glance, so we moved my bags in there. It appeared someone had been sleeping on the beds, so I asked for the sheets to be changed. A tiny Vietnamese man proceeded to change them by stepping on the bed with his dirty black feet. I couldn’t believe it. The manager just stood there and did nothing. I pointed out the brown smudges now on the sheets and insisted I change them myself. Swissman seemed annoyed, as if he were being put out but obliged. Then I went to the bathroom and realized the light didn’t work and then fridge was broken. So I asked to see yet another room, this one across the hall. It seemed much better. So Vietnamese boy changed those sheets as well, but just then the biggest cockroach I have ever seen scurried from under one bed to the next. I threw my hands over my mouth in shock, but Swissman and Viet boy continued along as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Finally I said, “That was the biggest cockroach I’ve ever seen! Can you get it out?” They lifted up the bed, but nothing was there, and they looked at me like I was some crazy American snob. “I can tell you are thinking this is not up to your standard, but I assure you this is normal in Vietnam.” I moved back to the room with the broken light and Swissman left.

Cheri was due to arrive at 11:30 but I needed to log on to Facebook and get the exact time and flight number. The wireless decided to stop working. Shit. The three Vietnamese men stood around, talking about me. No, I don’t know Vietnamese. But the pointing and staring was a dead giveaway. And did I mention that the people Swissman insisted could speak English definitely can’t speak English? So finding an internet café was impossible.

I called Swissman, clearly concerned because I didn’t know how to get Cheri from the airport when I didn’t have her info. Swissman said that he would come and get me and take me to his office to use the internet, no charge, then pick Cheri up from the airport for $15. Okay, fine. He picked me up, and went to his office which was in a dark alley. We went inside where it was dark, and I saw two women sleeping on the floor. Those are just the maids, I was told by Swissman, who I think from this point on I will call Assman, because he’s clearly a cocky jerk. I guess just speaking French makes him an ass.

I logged on to find that Cheri would have to stay in Tokyo over night because of an in-air medical emergency in addition to some visa problems with her and two other Americans. She would arrive at the same time tomorrow. Assman hands me a bill for $15 to pick Cheri up tomorrow, but I ignored it by folding it up and putting it up in my pack. I went back to the hostel, and went straight to bed in an attempt to forget where I was.

Nov 17

I slept fairly well (despite the dance club that was pumpin’ beats until the wee hours of the morning) because the air conditioner saved me from another uncomfortable night. It was 7:30 am. I took out the breakfast ticket and my laptop and went downstairs. No one was there. Eerily quiet.

Oh wait.

Yes. Yes there was someone there.

The Vietnamese boy who changed the sheets three times was sleeping shirtless on the couch. Awkward. So I guess that means no breakfast. I went to leave but found that the a garage door style gate in the front was down and I had to roll it up. I found an internet café and called Mom, glad to have someone to vent to. I wanted to take a tour but was hesitant to do anything Assman arranged for me, so we researched some tour companies. The first two I called didn’t answer and the third wanted $135 for a half day tour. Um, no.

I called Assman and agreed to take the Mekong Delta tour for $75 (it’s cheaper because there’s one other American going). I mentioned that everyone was sleeping and no one was there to make breakfast. He said breakfast wasn’t included. Then why, may I ask, does it say so on the internet AND you gave me a breakfast ticket when I checked in that reads: “Dear Guest, Your daily included breakfast is available to you with bread and egg and drink” ?

I went to the hostel to get my things straight and was delighted to find that the hostel and no more bottle water. Fantastic. I waited in the lobby until 8:40 but no one came to pick me up. I called Assman and he said someone was on the way. Then his assistant called back and told me they had already left because they didn’t see me. Seriously? Finally a little man (can’t speak English) came in and talked to me. I shrugged my shoulders, confused as to what he was saying, but then he handed me his cell phone and the woman explained this was my driver. I had seen him standing around talking to the hostel roomboy for about 15 minutes, but no one bothered to tell me this was my driver!

We made a stop at the hostel main office so the woman assistant could give me a bill. She said my credit card was on file but she wanted me to sign the paperwork, which had a fee of $15 for Cheri’s ride from the airport on it. I crossed it out and said I wouldn’t pay for it because I didn’t know for sure if I’d need the service.

Let me take a moment and describe HCMC. It’s miles and miles of narrow street, with millions of motorbikes and occasional car. Crossing the road is like playing Frogger, that old Atari game. You are really taking a chance, but you just got slow and time each step to weave in and out of the bikes. (No traffic lights) And although Vietnamese may be the country’s official language, it’s second to honking, which means “I’m on the road”, “I’m behind you”, “I’m on your right”, “I’m on your left”, “Don’t move”, “I’m turning”, “You suck”, etc.

Two hours later we reach our destination which is more dirty water. This is the Mekong Delta. Our tour guide, a young woman, takes us on a boat for 20 minutes, then brings us to Coconut Island, where their main export is, you guessed it, coconut. Candy, bowls, figures, milk; all coconut. Which, of course, they try to sell to us. Then they sat us down and gave us five different fruits, pineapple being the only one I recognized or thought tasted good. We were entertained by five minutes of singing then took a small boat down the delta, which was boring. Our tour guide barely said two words, so I didn’t learn a thing. Ten minutes later we got back on the big boat and went to a restaurant. We made it crystal clear that neither of us would eat seafood and I don’t eat meat. Tour guide spoke with the waitresses. Thirty second later they brought us a WHOLE FISH. Um, okay. Our tour guide left. Next was chicken soup, then shrimp rolls, then shrimp fried rice. WHAT PART OF WE DON’T EAT FISH DIDN’T YOU UNDERSTAND??

As we finished the tour Rory (the other American) asked, for the third time, “Is it going to rain?” while pointing to some menacing clouds making it quite dark. “No. No rain. Dry season,” she said. Ironically, it immediately began to rain. She was shocked. I wanted to push her off the boat.

Back in the van we were half way back when the hostel/tour assistant called and informed me that since they needed Cheri’s passport number to book our tickets to Hanoi they wouldn’t be able to get the tickets. Which is EXACTLY what I told her before. She then said she would be charging me $5 since Assman had to take me to get internet last night. I was incredulous. “It’s not my fault that the internet stopped working.” Her response? “It’s not our fault either.”

“Yes, it is. It’s your hostel, and besides that, with all the things that have gone wrong, I won’t be charged five dollar to be picked up.”

“Yes, you change rooms three times.” (Actually, four times.) She said this as though I had been the pain in the ass and they had done me a favor by accommodating me. I refused to be charged. I hung up, LIVID.

Now, I’m trying to figure out how to get Cheri without calling Assman. I feel bad that she missed a whole lovely day here (can you sense my sarcasm?) but we will leave tomorrow. Hopefully first thing in the morning. Or we could take a tour, but with a different company. Ahhh…. More updates to come…

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