Vietnam = Cambodia + 20 years. It’s like Cambodia’s big brother. Natural features are very like it’s neighbour, but it’s more advanced. I use that word hesitantly because it implies that commerical, economic and infrastructural development is “better”.
No tuk-tuks – that’s the first thing I noticed. And I kinda missed them. Whilst their hassling got wearing, tuk-tuk drivers were a friendly bunch. Part of the reason for their absence is the road networks – at times it felt like being in America, as we left the Mekong Delta behind:
Tourist buses have replaced local vans. I gained a comfortable seat and wifi (as long as you weren’t sitting at the back), but felt I lost some authenticity, even though the majority of passengers were Vietnamese. Second world, not third. As the bus station was 15km outside the city centre (why do they do that?), I got a moto and really enjoyed the journey (complete with helmet, which was a first):
Lots of bustling side streets extend from the main backpacker drag (Saigon’s answer to Bangkok’s Khao San Road), but it’s cleverly numbered: the first number indicates the position on the main road, and the second number shows where on the side road your destination is. So to find my hotel (address number: 185/20) I went to 185 on the main road, and as I walked down the side street, the addresses increased, so the closest to the main road was 185/1… so I just walked until I got to number 20 (about 25m).
Bitexco’s Financial Tower was never going to match up to the Burj Khalifa, but the BJ isn’t in Saigon (now known as Ho Chi Minh City or “HCMC”, but all the locals still refer to it as Saigon). A $5 Sprite bought me a seat on the 52nd floor (it was free to go up) from where I watched the sunset:
Is this a photobomb, d’ya reckon?
Although I’ve never been to a bar where you’ve had to apply for cocktails:
Blues guitar music from the other side of the bar started out OK, but got gradually worse (something to do with the beer he was knocking back?!). It was pretty posh. Or at least, they wanted it to be posh. But I wasn’t the only one going casual – the Chinese and Vietnamese were dressed up, but a group of western middle-aged ladies were in beach attire – and I wondered whether we were let in because we were clearly western; ergo, we are rich. Finding out how the other half live. And it doesn’t sit quite right.
Wandering back through the park, I noticed groups of Vietnamese crowded round westerners. I wondered if they were doing some ad hoc cultural exchange of sorts, but didn’t stop to find out.
On the surface, Vietnam appears to be very similar to Cambodia:
landscape
lots of dogs
detached properties
scooters
dust
relatively poor
building boom
terrible music (sorry, I really am trying)
shops and dwellings open to the street
But there were some immediately apparent differences:
scooter drivers (and their passengers) wear helmets
buses are government-run
Lots and lots and lots of lorries
More scooters than Cambodia
Lots more cars that Cambodia
Written language is based on the Latin alphabet (more on this later)
More exposed flesh
Higher-class establishments (i.e. more high-quality hotels, etc)
High buildings – I can’t recall seeing many skyscrapers in Phnom Penh
Western brands (food, clothing, etc); for instance, the shopping mall below the Bitexco Tower (of course there was) had a Top Shop:
… and did you notice that 12 was the largest size offered?
Random photo: you remember I mentioned that the middle-aged lady attire of choice was the matching top/bottom combo? Here it is again:
An early start to catch the market at its most vibrant, chugging past the riverside of Can Tho:
… including a watery petrol station:
And this one shows how wide the Mekong river is here:
Completely different from the floating market I visited from Bangkok, which was mainly for the tourists, this one was locals selling and re-selling produce. Larger boats brought supplies from which the smaller boats would buy to re-sell elsewhere:
We weren’t hassled at all… because the market isn’t for us (or they’ve learnt that tourists tend to watch, not buy). For example, this was essentially a floating corner shop selling refreshments to the Vietnamese traders:
Signs along the riverside consisted of a large “P” above a white number (blue background) and often black numbers on white arrows pointing up- or down-river. Kan (our guide) didn’t know what they were so we hypothesised that the big blue number was the depth (maybe in feet) as this would be important information for the various vessels – some were really big. The arrows seemed to be distances but it wasn’t clear what to:
Suggestions on a postcard.
Damp was clearly a problem for the dwellings on the riverside but life is different here – if UK building regulations were applied, everyone would be on the streets!
This residential defence on the short walk to the noodle factory would also fall foul of our laws but here it’s commonsense-based: you hurt yourself trying to trespass on my property and that’s your fault.
It didn’t stop there: handmade noodles were mixed and cooked as large discs in a building with a dirt floor, workers in flip-flops and the obligatory dog:
After being left to dry in the sun on bamboo panels:
… they were put through the shredder (the only part of the process that can be automated):
It was like stepping back into pre-industrial revolution times. It’s easy to get “too much red tape” about the UK laws and regulations but we’re manufacturing on scales far exceeding these… and they’re there for a reason. Mostly. Oh, and the factory also has this room – clearly someone lives here:
Street food was being sold outside – it was peanuts and coconut wrapped in some kind of jelly-like substance:
Vegetables are grown, but to prevent and control disease, they’re on raised bamboo platforms:
And then to the second, much smaller, market (where many of the smaller boats come to re-sell the produce they bought earlier).
We’d been travelling for a good 90 minutes by this point but were still in Can Tho – we passed through three different districts in total. However, Can Tho is also the name of the province (as well as the main city), so something may have been lost in translation here.
Here’s a star apple (when you slice horizontally, there’s the shape of a five-pronged star, but we cut it into four):
Monkey bridges are how locals cross the river out in the country – we saw quite a few on the trip, some with living trees as part of the structure:
A boat going underneath whilst you cross is, I can confirm, very distracting:
For those that are interested, this chili plant was growing on the riverbank (not sure of the type):
Various methods of fishing are employed. For instance this net is lowered and simply raised:
Another longer-term approach was to lay a net on the bottom and entice many fish with leftovers – raising it a month later brought home a veritable feast. Unfortunately, this no longer appears to be the case – mass overfishing means there’s slim pickings here now.
Our final stop was a “homestay”. Exactly what it says on the tin it started out as tourists staying with locals. As with most things it’s become more commercialised with many (including this one) metamorphosing into a hostel experience with separate showers and flush toilets. I’d been considering a homestay in this region but was also conscious that I needed to get a move on (end of October already?!) so it was useful to see what it was really all about.
The main (given) reason we were there was to see the fruit garden, which was interesting but nothing spectacular. Kan, our guide, is studying plant management which enhanced our experience no end because he knew what plants were what. I’ve never seen a banana tree flower before:
Apparently banana trees only fruit once and are then cut down; the stump then grows into a new tree, producing fruit again in just four months (which explains how a single tree can produce a thousand bananas, as mentioned by another guide). This lotus flower was impressive, too, with the leaves being a popular salad ingredient (I tried them in Siem Reap):
Given reason aside, we then found out the real purpose of our visit: we were presented with a menu (like I said, not a convincing homestay) and then asked if we wanted to get something for our guide..? (“yeah, sure”)… and our boat driver..? (“yeah, fine”). I then noticed she wrote something on the bill but no price. Hmm. But I figured that even a couple of glasses of wine wouldn’t break the bank. When the bill arrived, however, it was over four times the cost of our drinks along with an offer of an explanation. Turns out we had also been charged for their lunch.i had no problem with this but was unimpressed at how it was done: getting us to pay is one thing but not warning us is another. However, Kan had proved such a good guide that we’d already arranged a tip for him and Juan, our driver. So we just used that. Can’t help but wonder whether they’d just have preferred the cash. And it’ll be going on the feedback form, too – tourists don’t mind saying “thank you” but we don’t appreciate surprises.
Engaging guides in conversation enhances the tour experience no end – once they realise you’re genuinely interested in learning about them and their culture, they’re a mine of information (but I’ve not validated any of it!):
Education
Children are supposed to go to school, but as parents have to pay, attendance becomes dependent on wealth. Despite fees being low (more a contribution) it’s still out of the reach of the poorer families, who need the extra hands to run their business. Whilst they’re likely to take over said business, it means they’re likely to be poorly-educated and/or illiterate, thus exacerbating the rich/poor divide.
Alcohol
Habits are forming. With the rise of the middle-class, drinking is increasing – another sign of the westernisation of Asia. There is no minimum age (apparently) with parents judging (or not?) when to introduce the substance to their children – in the rural districts, this can be quite young. Not necessarily a bad thing, as long as it’s age-appropriate, I guess.
Rice fields
Hard work. Really hard work. Kan’s parents work all day, every day. Canals channel the Mekong to the necessary places to irrigate the crop, which is on raised beds. Three months after sowing (and daily tending), the rice is harvested and the beds drained (which is why they’re above the waterline) ready to start again. Hard work. Eighty percent of Vietnamese are farmers – the country is the second biggest exporter of rice, after Thailand.
Smoking
At $1 a packet, it’s not difficult to see why smoking is so prevalent – the vast majority of Vietnamese smoke (those I’ve met, so it may be less common in the middle-class that I don’t see so much of).
Death
Family is important here, just like in Cambodia. Homes have tombs where deceased relatives are buried so they can stay close to their family.
Fishing
Over-fishing is a real problem, with stocks non-existent in places. I believe there are quotas, but illegal fishing seems commonplace. How these people will make a living in the future is uncertain.
Two meals
In rural Vietnam, only two meals a day are eaten: late morning and late afternoon. He said these were big meals, but I suspect that it’s because they can’t afford the standard three meals a day. No wonder they’re so slight.
Grandfather
Kan recalled visiting his grandfather who lived on the water. Life is hard. A boat trip is required to the mainland, so it’s very isolating. A tough way of life. But most don’t have much of a choice.
I’ve always known that I’m lucky, and I make sure I’m conscious of it and remind myself on a regular basis. But I’ve spent the last six weeks being reminded of it at least thirty times a day. It’s sobering.
After a “full day tour” (seven hours), it was still only lunchtime when we docked back in Can Tho. Spring rolls at a local joint had been recommended – and it turned out to be the Vietnamese “construct your own” meal (“Phan”, but with accents that I won’t bother to add):
A kind lady offered to show me how to put it together. Delicious. And cheap at $2.50.
See the monks? They were kind of chanting with basic percussive accompaniment. It was quite entrancing and I sat quite happily in the “Vietnamese” pagoda for some time:
This guy freaked me out though (who does he remind me of? I can’t place him):
The Cambodian pagoda on the other side of the road wasn’t quite so good, so I wandered… and came across a supermarket.
Yes, I know it’s not exactly world heritage material, but it was actually very interesting to see the differences. For instance, “pick your own” is taken to a new level here:
Many recognisable brands. And a great way to extend your vocabulary (motivation: not getting milk with added sugar – ugh!). The meat/fish section was the most different with wares presented in open trays – not western standards, but I haven’t had any problems since I’ve been travelling, so can’t be that bad.
A long, interesting day. And looking forward to moving on again…
Great hotel, but was really looking forward to moving on, via van:
… and “Superdong” (that’s the name of the boat, by the way).
The two-and-a-half-hour crossing would have been quite nice (had an upper-deck seat this time, so could enjoy the view), apart from the very loud, poor-quality Vietnamese “music videos” that played constantly throughout (even my very good earplugs weren’t able to save me). Lu’u Chi Vy and D’u’ong Hong Loan (maybe YouTube them?) were the only two artists, samey songs, with backing dancers from a (poor) local dance school. Lost the will to live.
Is this the Virgin Mary? Certainly looks like it from this distance:
And then the tourist bus from the Rach Gia port (pronounced “reck zah” – yeah exactly, not easy this whole Vietnamese thing). Here is, nominally, a photo of a biscuit, but note the legs behind (he was absolutely tiny, with large hands and ears; I wondered whether, like a puppy, he’d grow into them. A nice lad, but freaked me out when he wanted a selfie with me. No, I don’t know either):
Driving through the Mekong Delta was amazing – worth the bus ticket in itself. Shacks similar to those in Cambodia lined the road which backed right on to the main waterway:
And cables. Lots and lots of cables. I reckon you could quite easily take out large parts of the region with a few choice cuts:
Buildings are similar in style to Cambodia, but made from more robust materials (much more brick and less wood). Roads are narrow, but in fairly good condition. But it was slow going as there’s only one road. Motorbike laws are clearly observed: only one adult and one child passenger per moto and, most importantly, helmets are required for all (and it’s actually enforced, whereas in Cambodia they’ll have the odd day when they warn the locals and then sting the tourists/ex-pats for an $8 fine). Oh, and petrol is 51p per litre:
Eventually arrived in Can Tho at 4pm – nine hours to travel 268km. But it was a really interesting journey 🙂
I felt the adrenaline flood my body. I’d hit the night market in search of street food:
It looked pretty good:
And then “Hello, do you have some time?” from behind me and I turned to see the smiling face of a lad, maybe 13 years old. But out of the corner of my eye, I also saw another four pairs of eyes looking at me.
“No, sorry – not now,” I said and turned my head back in my direction of travel to see another two on a scooter in front of me. Get out of this situation right now, my brain screamed. They left me alone. They may have had honest intentions, but the sweetness in the voice, the distraction from behind (when I carry my bumbag at the front for obvious reasons) and the inexplicable request for some time from the only tourist still makes me wonder… But all is well, and I ordered a rice “pancake”:
I gave her a 10,000 VND note. “One,” she said, pointing to my pancake, “10,000 Dong”. I shook my head – I’d watched three others buy one and they’d all received change from that note. “Change”, I stated gently but firmly and made it clear that I wasn’t going to budge. She repeated. I repeated my response. Then the lady with her said in Vietnamese “She’s seen the others get change.” I can’t speak Vietnamese, but this is exactly what she said. And I got change. Well actually I got short-changed – the right number of notes but the wrong value. But it was close enough. I know the money is worth more to them, but it’s the principle. Why do they have to try it on all the time – it’s just so wearing?
I also bought a wrap, attracted by the yummy-looking fillings and the clearly displayed prices.
