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Published: November 19th 2009
So many things are just waiting to go wrong when you get up at 4am with 3 kids to catch a flight to Vietnam, hoping that a taxi driver on the other side of the world will be waiting to collect you and take you to a hotel you booked online 3 months ago...
But somehow it all came together. Sure, after about 2 hours on the Vietnam Airlines flight I was horrified to realise we still had 6 hours to go. Lost track of the number of times each of the kids asked "how much longer". Vietname Airlines was fine, but none of the staff were working up a sweat on the service front. I think "going throught the motions" could be their corporate motto. At least the pilot seemed to be interested in his/her job and we made it safely into Ho Chi Minh, a modest 1 hour late.
A predictably anxious wait for bags that eventually made the improbable journey from Hobart to HCM unscathed. And last but not least, the question that dared not speak its name. Would there really be a taxi driver standing in the throbbing crowd with a limp piece of paper saying "Steven Chaffer, My My Hotel". No-one was more amazed than I, when he was spotted and in no time we were in an air-conditioned taxi speeding through waves of oncoming motor bikes towards our digs in downtown HCM.
Jude said "this is amazing" about ten times, as the rivers of people on motor bikes surged around our car. Unfortunately the general air of amazement gave way to forlorn cries of "how much longer" as the kids one by one collapsed under the weight of 15 hours travel.
They were all pretty much comatose by the time we reached the MyMy Hotel tucked away in the now familiar alley 219. Basic but clean, quiet and very friendly.
Jude woke at 1am next morning, convinced it was breakfast time. Very hard to convince him otherwise. I'm afraid to say that at about 4 am, cable tv came to the rescue in the form of the Mickey mouse cartoon retrospective. And thus we made it to breakfast.
Against type, the usually resilient Milla was not impressed with the seething backstreets of HCM. She wanted a face mask that she had seen the locals wearing on their motor bikes. She couldn't breath and was hot and homesick. Tears followed. Nothing a trip to the loca water park couldn't fix we reasoned.
After a hair-raising taxi ride across town Milla was even more upset, declaring she wanted to go home. All would be well once we hit those water slides. When the news was delivered by a beaming official that the water park was only closed once a week, today, it felt like a hot hammer blow to the sweaty temple.
Let's just summarise by saying the kids were not impressed. Jude was asleep in Julies arms by now and Milla was almost inconsolable. (The lesson here, Mik and Karin pay attention, if you haven't already gleaned it, is don't go to the Dam Sen water park on a Wednesday!)
Luckily the adjacent amusment park was real hit and we had a great day contemplating the safety standards of Vietnamese roller coasters. The kids had a ball, ergo, so did we.
I'd like to say we've hit our stride now but that would be a flat out lie. Still the kids have stopped screaming when we try and cross the streets. I would hasten a guess that Reuben will spend the next 3 months existing on white bread rolls and Promite.
All things considered the appeal of a seven hour bus trip to Dalat, evaporated rather quickly, so we have shelled out for plane tickets to the hill town. We have to get up at 4 am tomorrow, but we are doing that anyway...
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Carole Owen
non-member comment
Hooray! You're there
Sounds like a mix of fabulous and overwhelming, with a lot of waiting chucked in! Well done on getting there, and I'm sure the kids will acclimatise to such a culture change very quickly. Looking forward to the next exciting installment! Carole xxx