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.
Yes, I know I just had one in Kampot, but I’m on holiday and, I’m in charge. Just had a few things to decide and arrange. And noticed that the bananas here are different – very yellow:
Today’s bug:
I first knew I’d over-ordered when the gas stove arrived… I keep forgetting the soup here is a real event. So my “light lunch” turned into a full meal (I didn’t eat again for over 6 hours!). Here you’ll see the drill: the soup (which finishes cooking on your table), the plate of rice, the small dipping bowl (on the right) and the dish on the left into which you transfer some of the soup. I’m a pro:
I wasn’t sure what these were, though:
It was delicious. I’d previously stopped at a place recommended by some westerners, but it was expensive and I didn’t want much. The kiwi owner suggested one of their lunch options. And why, for goodness sake, I thought, do I want a cheese and onion pannini (with NZ cheese), when just beyond your shoulder I can see the fishing boats pootling to and fro?
And the view here was great:
And I managed to get some Vietnamese Dong (VND) – and they’re plasticky. Very practical. I would post a photo, but I’m not sure it’ll get it across. I’ll bring some home, instead. Maybe. If I’ve any left 🙂
Good morning, Vietnam (you see what I did there?).
A beautiful breakfast view:
And then to the pearl farm on the “South Island tour”. An Aussie explained:
only 2% of the world’s pearls are natural – they work their way inside the oyster, taking some 7 – 10 years to be made
artificial insemination uses a seed (created from the crushed shells of oysters) planted straight in the gonads – the good part
they’re put in cages and lowered 2 metres below sea level, identified by black buoys
two metres is the optimum depth as there’s most plankton there
unfortunately, barnacles start growing on the cages (weighing them down) and the oysters (so they can’t close, and that’s when a fish comes in and eats the pearl)
so they have to clean the oysters and cages every 5 – 6 weeks
even then, it takes two years to make a pearl 6mm in diameter
that pearl will then sell for $10
Round here there are two varieties of oyster that are rarely found elsewhere (due to the chemical imbalances resulting from the rice fields upstream in the Delta). These can produce big oysters: as they secrete to feed the pearl, it makes the oyster bigger; over 5 – 6 cycles (each lasting upwards of two years, remember), they can start producing 15mm oysters (which take 7 – 10 years to grow). Not a get-rich-quick scheme, you’ll see. But it must be lucrative because there are three farms along this stretch. And they’re mostly made into jewellery:
This necklace was being sold for c.£200, but as I’ve never bought a pearl necklace, I have no idea whether this is cheap or extortionate.
“Coconut tree prison” was built by the French in 1924. It was used to house POWs in the Vietnam War (which here they call the American War), where the 40,000 inmates were tortured by US troops. Four thousand died, and 10,000 were injured. The displays focused on this torture, with reconstructions of tiger cages:
And some poignant photos:
But it was all too engineered. For example, they showed the escape tunnel that took 41 prisoners to freedom in 1969:
I’m guessing that it didn’t have these inviting steps, though. Surely even Americans would have spotted what was going on here…?! I discovered afterwards that the whole place is a reconstruction, completed in 2013, although it did give a sense of the place:
Fish sauce is a major Phu Quoc export. Except it isn’t, because several airlines have banned it for fear that broken bottles will stink the place out for months, if not years. Anchovies are caught and mixed with salt on the boat (3:1 ratio) and put straight into these vats, which can hold 15 tons. They’re then covered and left for 12 months when the first batch is siphoned off from the tap at the bottom. This is 45% protein. Water is added, the mixture left for another 3 months, and batch two taken: 40% protein. The process is repeated for the third and final batch: less than 40% protein. And then the leftovers are used as fertiliser for the pepper farm. Now that’s what you call recycling. Around 4,000 litres are produced in total, and then the process starts again.
It’s powerful – such a shame photos can’t communicate smells and tastes. The smell catches your throat, but is bearable. It’s fishy, but dull and concentrated. Not pleasant, but only mildly offensive. You wouldn’t want to hang around for long, though. And it’s strong. They don’t use this stuff in cooking – it’s too good – it forms the basis of sauces and dips. The Vietnamese like dipping.
Bai Sao (“Star beach”, named due to the starfish here) is widely acknowledged as the best beach on the island (this is not actually true – apparently, the military base in the north has commandeered all the best beaches, so it’s more accurate to say it’s the best beach mere mortals can visit):
I’d brought a baguette, but the lunch looked delicious. I should have mentioned – I was the only westerner on the trip – everyone else was Vietnamese. And as the guide spoke little English (yes, I was rather annoyed, too), the majority of the tour was in Vietnamese. But my fellow tourists were wonderful, taking me under their wing, with many of them speaking very good English indeed (two pretty much fluently). They kindly invited me to join their lunch, which was so lovely – we all sat round the table, with the dishes in the middle. Each person got a bowl of rice, and a small plate. You transfer a few mouthfuls of some of the dishes to your plate, and then go back for more when you’re ready. A really social occasion, unlike our “one person to one meal” approach. It was a highlight of my trip. I’ve included this photo for the record, but the sun made everything dark and, not liking having my own photo taken, I’m very uncomfortable taking other people’s so didn’t try again.
We then had another hour or so to relax on the beach, and I went swimming with one of the older Vietnamese ladies (fluent in English – she lived in Australia for 30 years). Educated, intelligent, fascinating, she gave me the entire history of Vietnam. Too much to reproduce here, but I’ll include snippets as they’re relevant. It occurred to me that I hadn’t met her like in Cambodia. And immediately it struck me why: all the intelligencia were killed by the Khmer Rouge. And their families were also “destroyed” (which surely decreased the average IQ in the country quite significantly).
A quick stop at a market to buy fruit:
And fish, if you wanted it:
And then the pagoda. Nice, but very new, so no real character yet. But great views (note the monk in the foreground, who did add to the feel of authenticity!):
Inside:
And I took this so I can find out what on earth they are (I assume they’re here as an offering):
Big, fat columns made of beautiful wood:
Very impressive, as were the rafters:
And then I stepped outside, and was reminded that I was a European giant:
I think the tour guide was enjoying this trip. We had an unscheduled stop at a dried fish shop. Yes, it was as bad as it sounds:
Hygiene was non-existent with flies landing on everything (the incense sticks are a token gesture to keep them away). And some very dubious wares:
This “swimming bladder” was rather perturbing:
Every kind of fish, in every kind of way. And not pretty. But interesting.
I would say I liked the seahorses, but I obviously didn’t like the fact that they were dead and bottled:
Then off to the now obligatory waterfall. It had been developed and in some respects it was done sympathetically, like the path:
But in other ways, it was quite gaudy (no, I don’t know what the tiger is doing there, either):
But the main waterfall was worth the trip, despite the hordes (not pictured):
The SIM wine factory was less interesting. Mostly because it wasn’t much different from wine-making in any country. But I did try the free sample (well, about one sip’s worth), which tasted like neat Ribena, with a hint of alcohol (it was only 1 – 2%).
Other, much stronger, versions are available:
But I was more intrigured by these:
Pepper is another major export from these parts. It only grows on red soil and takes two years to start producing fruit worth using: red ones are dried to become white pepper, and the green ones become black.
Another tasting session. They eat their mango very unripe (have I mentioned this before?), so it’s very bitter. In Cambodia, it was served with chili salt or sugar, but here we tried it with pepper:
All kinds of pepper mixtures: salt and pepper, garlic and pepper, chili and pepper and, of course, fish sauce and pepper.
Back via kicking out time at a local primary school:
And a rush through Duong Dong, which confirmed that it wasn’t worth a bicycle trip here tomorrow. A packed, varied and interesting day with a lovely bunch of people, finished off with a mango smoothie:
Couldn’t change my dollars anywhere – interesting given that Vietnam is a stone’s throw away from this place. A business opportunity that a Pot-pat hasn’t caught on to yet. Then my last van ride through Cambodia:
Scott, Chantal and I burst out laughing. The driver smiled cautiously. He’d just handed us some “border control” forms. We’d all heard about this – a “medical check” that they scam you $1 for. General consensus is to go with it. But when we got the form, we just couldn’t help ourselves:
Apparently, our dollar is helping to prevent an epidemic of hypothermia. Wetting ourselves, we calmed down and tried to take it seriously. But then the guy aimed a laser at us and took our body temperature that was duly noted on our forms (which, interestingly, had no official logo) and asked us whether we’d experienced any nausea, vomiting, and the like (all key symptoms of a condition that I was quite worried about, given the climate out here). It was all I could do to keep a straight face.
He, on the other hand, was taking it seriously. But when he took my dollar and stuffed it into the side of his briefcase, I had to turn away else he’d have seen me crack. Oh my, if you’re going to scam us, do it convincingly please!
Good afternoon, Vietnam.
I was looking forward to standing on the top deck of the ferry and watching the journey. That’s why you travel by boat after all (and to cross water, obviously). But no, it was just like an aeroplane – we had allocated seats down in third class, some cheesy TV, a cold cloth and bottled water. But no safety demonstration, which was a shame.
Tagged along with Scott and Chantal, walked down to the beach from their hotel and then wandered back towards the main town on the island enquiring at places to stay.
Found a steal: a private bungalow at a family-run hotel, with this view from my patio:
… for $25 per night. Decided to stay three instead of the planned two nights. Once again, winging it has worked out (part of the art, of course, is deciding whether pre-booked is better, but I’m kinda getting the hang of it). They even had bottled tap water 😉
Off for a dip in the sea straight away (the sun sets at 5:30pm-ish and it gets very dark, very quickly here). And they’ve even foot taps outside each bungalow to prevent the mass sand invasion that blighted my Sihanoukville place. Then back to watch the sun set.
