Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh

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Philippe rose the next morning after very little sleep due to a stomach bug. Had we not been meeting my parents that evening, we wouldn't have travelled on. But we were, and so he bravely soldiered on, and we hopped on the bus in Phnom Penh.

Our trip across the border was a slow and boring process, not due to any fault of either border control stations. Our bus company representative had decided that it was more efficient to collect up all the passports and get them stamped en masse, but still made us claim them back off him at the Cambodian check point to present them ourselves. He then collected them back off of us as we boarded the bus again, and then the bus moved a short distance to the Vietnamese border. We baled off the bus and were held in what felt like a cattle crush, waiting for our passports to be stamped. The process took forever, and it was pot-luck what order they were stamped in.

Philippe's passport got stamped early on, and he was liberated from the holding pen to get his luggage scanned before hopping back on the bus. Thirty minutes later he edged back into the building to check that I was still there. I was, but I was circling the holding pen trying not to lunge at the bus representative who was taking forever with my passport. We would have been so much quicker had we all just queued up with our own documents. I was fully convinced that he had lost my passport, when, as the third last person left, a dodgy version of my name was eventually called, and I proceeded to the bus.

Once everyone was eventually let into Vietnam the bus made its way through the beautiful Vietnamese countryside. People in cone hats worked diligently in the paddy fields and we passed through some lovely little villages. We have taken so many buses at this stage, that it is easy to get into complacent, just hopping on bus after bus, pulling out a book and waiting to reach the next destination. I have to keep reminding myself to look out of the window.

The main benefit of taking the bus over a plane, is that we have the opportunity to look out of the window. Each bus trip is different and with our travel schedule we don't often get to see the real Vietnam - the small villages with one room houses that are home to a family of six. Things like that are what make Asia and Vietnam different to home, and absorbing these details truly enriches the experience.

We got to Ho Chi Minh (Saigon) and happily figured out that we were about two streets away from our hotel. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, but it meant that our first task in Ho Chi Minh City was crossing the road - something that is no easy matter! We made it safely across the road, deftly dodging the scooters that were clipping at our heels like little chihuahuas and after walking in the wrong direction down Bui Vien St, we eventually found our accommodation, the Hotel Mini Saigon 5. Philippe collapsed into bed to try and sleep off some of his dodgy stomach and I went off to scout the area and find some simple food that he might like.

The afternoon went really slowly for me, but eventually, at 9.30pm, I heard noise coming from the room above ours. “They're there, they're up there”, I squealed at Philippe. I ran up the stairs and was delighted when my mother & father open the door to me. I couldn't believe it was seven months since I had last seen them at Dublin Airport.

They settled their stuff and then we all went out for some welcome drinks at one of the street-side bars near the hotel. Philippe and I were used to seeing a certain level of Asian craziness, but it was a pleasure to watch my parents try to absorb the sights, sounds and smells around them. It couldn't have been farther from what they had left behind in Ireland. Snow and bleak winter weather was replaced by 30degree heat and sticky humidity. The touts, the kids that should be in bed, the horns blaring and strange food offered by the street vendors were all total culture shock for them, but I have to say they handled it admirably!

Over a few drinks we tried to update each other on all the news that hadn't made it into our emails to each other, and I realised that sitting there at the side of a Vietnamese street on a broken chair, in a situation about as far removed from Dublin as I could get, I felt more at home than I have anywhere else on this trip. Home truly is where your people are, not where your toothbrush is!

The next morning we didn't wake them up for breakfast. They had been in four planes in the previous 48hours and deserved a bit of rest. When they did come to, we ventured out on the street for their first experience of day-time Ho Chi Minh City. Our first task became apparent very quickly. We had to find some air-conditioning before my father melted to the ground - a change of 30 degrees is not easily adapted to for a man conditioned for Irish weather!

Philippe thought he was feeling better, so after lunch we had the hotel call a reputable cab to take us to the War Remnants Museum. Moments later a Vinasur cab pulled up and we watched the metre tick over as he guided us through the maze of one way streets that make up Ho Chi Minh City. At the War Remnants Museum we paid a small entrance fee and then the men took off in the direction of the planes and tanks that are exhibited in the grounds. The small plaques in front of the machines explain their uses, but it is not until you are inside the museum, when you read the history of “Nam”, that you begin to imagine the types of situation those tanks/planes were truly used in.

After the Khmer Rouge stuff in Cambodia I thought my psyche might be a little bit better prepared to deal with the information in the museum. I don't think it made any difference. As I walked around the exhibit I regretted not studying history for longer in school, because maybe I would have been more aware of the shocking truths that were explained through the photos, maps, statistics and news reports that were on display. One of the things I found very interesting about the exhibit was that it wasn't covered from the usual 'soft' western perspective. We read accounts and saw photographs of the long lasting effects of the agent orange chemical that the Americans tested during the war. The result is generations of Vietnamese people born with body deformities. Photo-journalists from the time have harrowing photos that show the vicious torture and deaths that those suspected of being VC sympathizers were subjected to. Outside we saw examples of the 'tiger cages' that prisoners were held in and the guillotine that beheaded many of them. Walking away from the museum I found myself wondering how anyone with memories from that time can bear the sight of a westerner in their country. It is a well put together, thought provoking, exhibition that should be on the list of 'must-visits' for any tourist.

Subdued and wilting from the heat, we de-camped back to 'Stella' for a drink to lift our moods...there's nothing like seeing photographs of dead and mutilated bodies to kick-start a holiday. On the plus side, the only way was up, and we decided to try and keep the next few days more upbeat. I had been toying with the idea of getting a dress made while in Vietnam, and had spied a dress making shop not far from the hotel. Leaving the boys to their own devices, Mam and I set off to try and negotiate a new dress for me. It was a relatively simple process. I had a picture from the internet, and the owner of 'Cathy Silk' was happy to oblige. For fifty dollars I would have a nice new dress in three days time. She took my measurements, we chose the material and crossed our fingers! That evening we made our way into the Dong Khoi area of town for a nice steak dinner.

The steak dinner was a bit much for Philippe, and he was knocked for six once more. Leaving Philippe to recover in the hotel, the next day my parents and I armed ourselves with a map and ventured out on the busy streets of Saigon. Our target was the Benh Tan market, which wasn't geographically far from the hotel, but unfortunately we had to cross about five roads and one huge roundabout to reach it. The roads were clogged with traffic and the footpaths were full with parked scooters. We had no choice but to walk on the road with the rest of the traffic. It was chaos and heart attack inducing stuff. Eventually we found ourselves in a nice park area, which was a welcome relief from the roads. It also gave us an opportunity to watch the local people practicing Thai Chi or something similar. Between this and the local school children using the park for P.E. Class we were beginning to realise why we hadn't seen a single fat person since we got here.

After a cursory glance around the market, Dad made a beeline for the nearest air conditioned cafe. Mam and I left him there happily reading The Vietnam News as we returned to spending the afternoon happily mooting around the mad-house that is the Benh Tan market. The market is split up into the textiles area, the shoe area, the clothes area, the flowers area, the spices area, the fruit & veg area, and finally, the most offensive to our noses, the meat and fish area. We didn't end up buying anything of substance, but it was interesting to see another way of life. We picked up Dad and slowly made our way back to the hotel through the swarms of scooters.

My mother had received an email with tips on what to see and do in Ho Chi Minh City from a friend of a friend, and over the next couple of days, between dress fittings, we tackled it with gusto. We eventually figured out that the friend of a friend was fond of cocktails and living the high-life, as only a person on a western salary could do here. The next day we took it easy. Philippe was back on his feet, but not up for anything too strenuous. We took a taxi down to the Dong Khoi area and walked around. We had drinks by the riverside and then the Neylon's went for professional foot massages on Thien Thiep St (Philippe wussed out). The 'foot massage' was more like a full body workout, and we came out feeling great. To cap it off we had Cocktails on the rooftop of the Sheraton and located a nice restaurant called 'Ciao' nearby. Of course all of this was a welcome change for Philippe and I, and we enjoyed the indulgence immensely!

We also chose to ignore parts of the friend of a friend's advice (“The Mekong Delta is just a mucky brown river”), and I am so glad we did. On Thursday, we somehow managed to drag ourselves out of bed at 6am in the morning to take a tour of the Mekong Delta. After a few hours on a bus with our crazy singing tour guide, Hua, we were brought to a riverside town and invited aboard a lovely boat to cruise the Mekong Delta and experience the tail end of the floating markets from that morning. It is an impressive sight to witness the transactions that take place by pulling up beside your shop boat of choice. I imagine it is so much better if you can be there earlier in the morning, but we saw barges full of bananas and pineapples, and women in canoes peddling their wares. It was enough to give us a good impression.

Next, we left the boat and tried some honey tea and honey sweets, before walking along the side of the river to learn about making rice wine, rice paper, pop-rice (like popcorn) and coconut sweets. Nothing is wasted in these production cycles. While it was a nice change that we were not hassled into buying any of the products, most people couldn't resist buying something after the samples came around! Lunch was a thirty minute boat ride away in a small village not far from the river edge. After a funny mix-up about the dish included in the tour price (she said 'Hog', we heard 'Frog') we had a nice simple meal of pork, rice, spring-rolls and vegetables. Time was then allowed for cycling or lazing around to digest in peace. Us young-'uns braved the heat and the traffic to cycle to the local village, and returned to find the parents cocooned in hammocks, rocking gently, apparently having quickly adapted to the local way of life!

The final activity of the day was a trip down the river in canoes rowed by local men and women standing on the back. It felt like being in an Asian gondola and was a peaceful way to negotiate the river, waving to the local children who were enthusiastically waving back and smiling at us. We transferred back into the big boat and were brought back to a market. Walking through it to the bus the smell made us gag, and that was bad enough, but what really gave us the creeps was seeing tanks filled with slimy eels and slithering snakes! When we were on the bus a head count was done, and Hua realised that he had managed to lose two Australian girls and a Swiss couple in the market. He spent about thirty minutes scouring the market before he found his charges, and then made a big joke out of it that no one found funny, especially the recently-found people.

The bus set off for Ho Chi Minh City and Hua again entertained us with wildly random stories from his past. The man just couldn't resist the limelight and by the time we reached Ho Chi Minh City, we knew all about his parents, his previous job (as a counsellor to War Victims), his thoughts on reunification and his take on what Ho Chi Minh City would look like in ten years time. He also managed to highlight his poor level of pay as against us rich westerners' about ten times throughout. We were dropped at our hotel in HCMC where Hua pocketed the tips he was working so hard for, we headed off in search of a nice dinner before a relatively early night.

On Thursday, we returned to our friend-of-a-friend's list of suggested activities, and decided to spent a day relaxing on the roof top terrace of the posh Rex Hotel. For six dollar each we had the use of the swimming pool and sun loungers and access to the bar. It was an incredible oasis in the middle of the city, and a welcome break from the bedlam of the streets. That evening we returned to 'Ciao' before rounding off the day in the street-side bar next to the hotel.

On Friday we had to move hotels as rooms in HCMC get booked out fast, but then we pulled out the cameras again and spent an interesting afternoon wandering around the Reunification Palace. It was the residence of the president of the South Vietnamese people and thus a huge target for attacks. Down in the basement was a maze of military offices. It was interesting to see examples of the communication machines of the time.

After the palace we walked as far as the Notre Dame Cathedral, risking our lives crossing the street at every junction. Once we got the hang of it, we figured out the rules: form as big a group as possible and walk slowly, but steadily. The swarm of scooters will go around you, but the cars will not! We found a café to take some time to write some postcards and enjoy an afternoon beverage. Things started to go wrong when the glass of wine that my father ordered, turned up and was about a thimble full of wine in the bottom of a glass. They were trying to charge three times the price of a beer for said thimble and thought that the good ole rich westerners would pay it. They were wrong. We returned the wine and demanded it be filled up properly, and threatened to leave, cancelling all our other orders. They said they could do nothing about the wine (seen as they must have been the dregs of the last bottle!), but we could change the order to a beer.

After all the hassle my mother then accidentally knocked over her glass of orange juice and it crashed off the floor. I'm sure the waiter thought it was on purpose, but it truly was an accident. The amazing thing was, it took forever for someone to clear it up, and when they did, nobody offered a replacement glass or asked if she would like something else to drink. In a huge cultural shift from home (where the glass would have been rapidly replaced for free in most places), when our final bill arrived there was an extra cost of 20,000 dong showing on it for the cost of the broken glass!

That afternoon we were supposed to collect my dress. Having made our way back to Bui Vien St., I was disappointed when my dress wasn't ready for collection. I would have to return the next day. We decided to go for dinner in a Vietnamese Restaurant that our first hotel had recommended. It was a crazy experience. The restaurant is called “Din Ky”, and to reach it we had to cross Le Loi, a major artery of the city. We were high on adrenalin by the time we got there, which soon turned into fits of laughter when we saw the menu. “Fish bladder soup”, “Braised Ox penis”, “Braised Chicken Testicles” or “Deep Fried Salmon heads” anyone?

On our final day with my parents we got a mix of culture and pampering. In the afternoon we visited a Buddhist Temple before making our way back to Thien Thiep St for another Professional foot massage. We had managed to convince Philippe to give it a go. He had never had a professional massage, and it is safe to say that it was a shocking experience for him. On the street afterwards all he could talk about what how he had just been beaten up by a little Vietnamese women who was a third of his size. He was convinced she somehow had a personal vendetta against him because she had elbowed, kneed and hurt him at every opportunity. Needless to say he won't be convinced to go back again!

From the massage we made across town to watch a Vietnamese Water Puppet Show. These performances are a big part of Vietnamese traditional culture, but to be honest, I was only averagely impressed. For two dollars and thirty minutes of my life, it was interesting to see something different, but I don't feel the need to see another show while we are in Vietnam. Having become accustomed to walking in Ho Chi Minh City by now, we decided to brave walking back. We found a nice restaurant on the way back and whiled away the evening, discussing best and worst things of the week and my parents onward travel. They are visiting a few of the places that we have already seen, so we had some hints and tips to impart.

Saying farewell to my folks was difficult, but not as difficult as it was in Dublin Airport seven months ago. They had a new adventure to look forward to and I knew I would see them in just a few short months. We had a wonderful time in HCMC and were spoilt so much that it was hard to revert to poor backpacker status on the day that they left.

We had gotten too used to the good life, but our budget simply wouldn't tolerate it. Today we booked a sleeper bus to go up north in Vietnam, and then set about packing up our rucksacks once more.

The journey must go on!

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Photos

Benh Tan markets
Where's Derek?

Enjoying the Mekong!
That hat made it back to Ireland

Comments

[Eileen]

It is good to have a written record of our travels in Ho Chi Minh City. Part of our ABD. (Adventure before dimentia)