Ho Chi Minh City - We won't 'Miss Saigon'

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Saturday, 4th September
On our latest train we noted that the Blue Sky completely ripped us off. Citing yesterday's celebrations as a reason that they had to buy our ticket on the black market, they got us hard sleepers instead of soft. When we broached the subject of the price on the tickets being less than a fraction of what we paid the best our flustered host would do was offer us a taxi ride to the station. Then he goes off-shift and the next guy denies all knowledge. Perfect. Did I mention I hate these people?

Sam threw a plastic chair in his frustration. The guy flipped! We literally sat at the train station waiting to be stabbed. Until we got on the train. Then we wished we'd had been.

The next day started with the train. Yesterday never really ended, we did not sleep. Hard sleeper, you see, is the same as a soft just without a mattress. And an extra two beds in the exact same size room. We are in the God damn middle ones. Snoring Vietnamese above us, phone chatting ones below us. Has no-one explained they have speakers in them? This room stinks. It was Hayley could do not to cry. Our bags on 2 feet wide beds. No sleep.

We arrived at 5.30am which would usually warrant some sort of sarcastic comment, but when you don't sleep what the fr*g does it matter? We arrived in Saigon, but whilst we were there it changed its name. Forever more Ho Chi Minh City. As a foursome we caught a cab to Pham Ngu Lao in the knowledge it is considered the main backpacker area. That usually translates to sh*thole; and wasn't far off.

HCMC is busy. Busy like a payroll clerk on the 22nd of the month not busy like a coke-snorting Investment banker in Hanoi. The mopeds are fewer and farther between most likely because its that much further away from China and their £200, let's-not-bother-with-the-safety-stuff deathtraps. We had enough time to walk the street, one block over from where all of the other guesthouses were. One entrepreneurial, and let's be honest committed to the cause it's 6am, old lady spotted our predicament with no guesthouses being open. We brushed her off but she had attached an invisible hook attached to us. With the first two places shut we had to admit defeat. We were just so fr*gg*n' tired...

Hau, the guesthouse, was not clean. Black lights do not exist in Vietnam, for some things we must give praise. We slept until lunch.

At our awakening we decided that a day was enough in HCMC and we would hightail it out of there on the morrow. That left an afternoon to fill with limited touristic opportunity. I dragged Hayley to the War Remnants Museum, but not before yet another magical mystery tour of miserable map-reading. I swear I am better without the bloody things. Several arguments and a market place with unusual fruits that wouldn't have looked out of place in a sexshop later we bit the bullet (possibly inappropriate terminology here?) and caught a cab. It turned around on a four lane street and pulled up on the other side of the road with a punctured tyre. Time to get out. The driver pointed to the meter! 10,000 Dong! For turning round! Cheeky b*st*rd! What did we do? We absolutely told him to "f**k off". And then walked very quickly.

Somehow the adrenaline of waiting for a disgruntled cabbie to put a hatchet in our backs over the price of a Coca-Cola drove us to the museum in quick time. The War Remnants Museum has changed names more times than the St. Louis Rams, most notably in 1995 when America and Vietnam opened arms to each other and had a big hug. I much preferred the original name - "US Army Crime Exhibition House". Much catchier.

The book cover may have changed but it's still the same words inside. After the prisons in Hanoi we didn't expect much more than a complete and utter brainwash. More one-sided than a circle. Or when the British used to wage war in Africa. Either way it was compelling. Not your 'let's watch the prisoners play volleyball and hold guns against their heads until they smile' propaganda but constitutional quotes and war commission findings. It's a pity my opinion of the Vietnamese is so soured or it might mean something.

Continuously trying to rip you off or not continuously trying to rip you off, what the Vietnamese wnet through was horrific. Even the worst people don't deserve Agent Orange. Mangled children is most definitely an indictment on the Yanks. There are too many photos for there not to be some truth in the Vietnamese assertions. The one thing that did slightly p*ss me off was how the treatment of women was portrayed. The 'how dare you kill women, America?' attitude is pretty redundant next to photos of lady snipers.

In the evening we went to a free cinema and watched The Other Guys with sh*t subtitles.

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Photos

Backpacker Zone
Told you it was a dump

The man himself
Not Barry Saigon

The ever-changing name
And in gold writing as well