Saigon: the acoustic version

Our arrival in Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam, marked the end of a 16-hour bus journey from Siem Reap, Cambodia. Dirt and tar roads interlaced; potholes; broken, fogged-up windows; sweat; dodgy food stops and a two-hour wait at the border (it only opens at 7am). We did sleep remarkably well in the cramped space, however, which promised good things for our first day in Vietnam's biggest city.

Hopping off the bus, in desperate need of a shower and nourishment, we were approached by several bed and breakfast owners looking for possible customers. (We hadn't booked accommodation for Ho Chi Minh city after being assured there were hundreds of backpackers in the near vicinity to District 1, where the action was.) We followed a man who promised a wonderful deal of a double air-conditioned room for a mere US$5. It didn't look so wonderful when we actually arrived, and we apologised to the man and went on our way. Right across the street, however, we found Thien Hong; a family-run guest house. Although more expensive, there was hot water, clean sheets, sweet coffee in the mornings and smiling faces. We left our shoes at the door, literally, and never looked back.

To get from the main street to Thien Hong was an experience each and every time; a hair-raising walk through the alleys of people's homes, half-naked men and women, daily washing hung from one wall to the other, meat-cutting (make-shift butcheries run from the tiny apartments), chicken heads, screaming children, hooting scooters, litter and rather alarming 'aromas'. But this was Ho Chi Minh central - District 1; backpackers and travel agents on every corner, and restaurants and bars everywhere in between. And I was in my element.

After the much-needed cleansing process, we set out to find food, beer and excitement. We were drawn to an establishment called Allez-Boo; set on a street corner, built entirely from bamboo and filled with people. Couldn't go wrong there, we thought. We ordered 333 beer (strongly recommended by my head teacher in Korea), fish cakes with lemon grass, caramelised beef with rice and fruit smoothies for pudding.

Unfortunately, this happened to be our first tourist mistake in Vietnam. Unlike for Cambodia, when I had checked the exchange rate before leaving Korea, I hadn't done so for the Vietnamese dong. It turned out that Allez-Boo was one of the few really expensive restaurants in the city. Thus, we left with full stomachs and very empty pockets.

Our exploration of the city centre was interrupted by the afternoon rain, which was far too strong for the umbrellas we'd borrowed from the guest house. We abandoned the umbrellas in a nearby coffee shop and ran through the streets, past thousands of scooters, vendors selling their wares of postcards and other totally useless bits and bobs. On the way back to the guest house, we booked tickets for a water puppet show and a cruise along the Saigon river. Built on the banks of the river, Ho Chi Minh city was originally named Saigon, when it was the capital of the French colony, Cochin-China. and later of the independent state of South Vietnam. It was officially renamed Ho Chi Minh city after the contradictory but widely respected leader of North Vietnam. (Vietnam has been a unified country since 1975.) Our guide from the travel agency explained to our minibus that "old people in Vietnam call it Saigon and the young people call it Ho Chi Minh. Anything is fine, we just love it!"

The travel agency was none other than "Friends Tourist". And friendly they were, transporting us by taxi to and from the show and cruise ship because it was raining. The show was impressive as the puppeteers operate the puppets from underneath the water, acting out stories of traditional Korean life; complete with dragons, boats, live music and singing. The river cruise involved seven courses of food, red wine, traditional musical entertainment and views of the lights and life on the river bank from the water. It was truly an evening to remember.

After a undisturbed sleep at Thien Hong, we headed off early in the morning for our day trip to the Mekong Delta. This was to be the highlight of our time in the south of Vietnam. The delta, as a region, lies to the west of Ho Chi Minh city. It is known as Vietnam's "rice basket" because it produces enough rice each year to feed the whole country and then some. Lonely Planet describes the Mekong Delta as "a watery landscape of green fields and sleepy villages, everywhere crisscrossed by the brown canals and rivulets fed by the mighty Mekong river" (www.lonelyplanet.com). And the river is indeed mighty, it has two daily tides.


Although the region is rural, it is one of the most densely populated areas in Vietnam and every single piece of available land is farmed. The locals are said to friendly and easygoing, according to the guide books, but we saw differently. Only some of the "islands" are tourist-friendly, the inhabitants of others have asked instead to be left alone to live in peace. Our tour group hopped off the main boat and, in groups of four, were steered by locals in canoes along some of rivulets to a small island. We wore conical hats and took wonderful photos. Unfortunately, half way, the afternoon rains erupted. By the time we arrived at the island, we were sopping wet but still in high spirits. The thin raincoats acquired on shore were a little too late.


At a little restaurant gazebo, we were entertained with traditional singing and served honey tea and fruits of the island; pineapple and chilli salt, papaya, dragonfruit and some strange berries which tasted like overripe (almost fermenting) grapes. We sat at a table with four Scots, who were on a trip around South-east Asia, after a stint in Australia. We listened to their tales of Thailand and Laos with envious ears.

Out came the boa constrictor and a hive of bees for people to take photos with. We stayed far away. I even had a shot of banana wine, which tastes like pure ethanol, to calm the nerves. Lunch consisted of island-bred chicken, rice and boiled vegetables. We had the unfortunate opportunity of sitting with the most ignorant person on earth. She was from Israel and did the whole, "But how can you be from Africa if you have white skin?" thing. I cringed, gripped the table, and said, "colonialism". Frighteningly, she had been working at an orphanage in Cambodia for a month. I'd hate to know what she taught the poor children about. The 333 beer got us through that meal.

After lunch, we went for a walk to the where the coconut candy is produced. We watched the process, which is done by hand and duly contributed to the economy of the island. On the way to the bathroom, we bumped into a water buffalo sitting in the foliage.

The trip home in wet clothes was hardly pleasant but after a shower, several glasses of Vietnam's Dalat red wine and delicious supper at "Happy Life" restaurant, we met up with Scots and some wild men from Ireland for an evening of dancing to Justin Bieber's "Baby", Miriam Makeba's "Pata Pata", "Piano Man", Nollywood rap songs and several "Waka wakas" at the Lien Coffee Bar. The said bar was transformed into a dance floor crowded with South African, Nigerian, Scottish, Irish, Greek, Italian and Chilean twenty-somethings. Our one and only party in Vietnam proved to be a magical end to our Saigon experience. The next morning, it proved to be the end of my relationship with that drink made from potatoes, vodka.

After a thrilling two and a half days in Saigon, I left Thien Hong guest house with a huge hungover smile on my face, a sweet cup of coffee in my hand and lacking three pairs of shoes (which I'd left at the door).