Zelma’s Trip

I left Mui Ne just after lunch and took another long (5 hours ish) bus journey to Nah Trang.  Nah Trang is another coastal spot but bigger and busier than Mui Ne.  When I got out of the bus the usual group of people touting for business arrived and I asked if they knew where the Perfume Grass Inn was.  They assured me they did and, after a bit of bartering regarding the price, I got on the back on a Honda Om.  Despite my very clear directions the guy took it upon himself to take me to a different hotel which he had previously tried to convince me to go to.  I assured him that I wanted to go to the place I had initially stated and he apologised profusely as if he had made some terrible mistake.  He then brought me to the correct place and I checked in. 

My room is nice with two double beds – maybe I can alternate between the two or something.  Breakfast is included as is free internet which helps but it’s a bit expensive ($15).  It’s ridiculous how picky you get regarding a few dollars or dongs (yes the local currency really is called the dong) when you realise just how cheap everything is.

One of the reasons for coming to Nah Trang is that there are boat trips out to local islands where there is meant to be amazing snorkelling.  I’m considering this for tomorrow, although I am still tending a comedy halter-neck shaped sunburn (one side) and am wondering if a boat trip is the best plan in my current partial lobster-like state.  There are also natural mineral baths where you can bathe and apply therapeutic mud which sounds like fun.  I’m probably going to stay here two or three nights and am then planning on heading North to Hue (pronounced Hoo-ay) for my next stop.

On Friday I spent a bit of time emailing and charging my Ipod in an internet cafe.  I was planning to head to Nah Trang but then discovered the buses left at 8am (which I had just missed) and 8pm.  I didn’t really want to stay in Saigon for another full day and had a look in my guide book.  When Nah Trang was described it was noted that Mui Ne had a much nicer beach and was quiter.  So I decided that this seemed like a good option and got the bus in the afternoon.  The journey between Saigon and Mui Ne (pronounced Moo Nay) took just over five hours but it was interesting to see the places mbetween the two.  I arrived in Mui Ne when it was dark.  When we got out of the bus we were immediately surrounded by people offering us lifts on their Honda Oms (scooters which they drive and you sit on the back).  I asked how far away one of the hotels in my guidebook was and one of them started laughing.  I thought I might have said something stupid, at which point he pointed over his shoulder to the hotel and I realised I had!  I went and looked in the hotel and the room was pretty boring and small so I decided to try a place called Hai Yen which was recommended by the proprietor of my last hotel in Saigon.  I decided to brave a Honda om which was an experience.  He rode off very fast so I asked him to slow down.  The problem was that when I asked him he turned round and started to veer towards the pavement or other vehicles so I soon decided it wasn’t a good idea and shut up.  When I got to the guesthouse it seemed pleasant and I was shown my room which was lovely.  It was very large with a double bed with mosquito net (which I always think makes rooms look slightly magical) and ensuite wet room.  In terms of another plug, as I said the place is called Hai Yen and is at 132 Nguyen Dinh Chieu Street, Ham Tien Ward, Phan Thiet City, tel 062847243.  I really should start charging commission! 

When I woke up I walked out onto the balcony and realised I was right next to the sea.  The previous night I wasn’t quite sure where the beach was and was overjoyed that it was on my doorstep.  I have some lovely photos from in and around the guesthouse which I’ll post as soon as possible.  The room cost me $14 a night and was definitely worth it.  There was also a restaurant on site which was excellent and served very modestly priced fare. 

After getting over the shock of the dream location, I went down to the beach, read my book and swam in the sea.  The beach was really sandy which went out as far as you could stand up.  The only thing that was slightly strange was that there was very little distinction between high and low tide and the beach was quite narrow.

In the afternoon I decided to take a walk to the centre.  After quite a trek I realised that Mui Ne does not have a centre and that the only way to access the beach is through various hotels.  I wandered back and later realised that, despite having applied suncream (evidently rather pathetically) I was really sunburnt.

In the evening I decided to go for another swim in the sea which was lovely.  I then watched the sunset which was stunning (see pics). 

When I ate my dinner a German guy called Alex sat at my table and introduced himself.  I had passed a sign at the “Wax bar” for a party that evening and we decided to go.  It was a full moon party with a beach fire.  Although it was a good evening there were a few less welcome parts such as some eejits deciding to supplement the fire with one of the hotel signs.  I had a rant at this point about not wanting to be associated with such people and the fact that it’s easy to see why Westerners often have a bad reputation.  The music improved later into the night/ morning although the sound system with terrible bass and woofers and the D.J’s ability did not.  The whole thing felt slightly forced in a way but it was an enjoyable nioght.  On the way back we stopped at a little side shop as Alex appeared to have a bottomless pit for a stomach and he had some local food (one of the traditional staples a kind of soup).  Once again some Westerners excelled themselves by coming in and asking for a menu.  If you saw this place you’d understand how stupid that was.  It was effectively someone’s house with three pots of different soup on offer.  When he was informed there was not a menu he went and picked a pineapple up and made a slicing action.  The locals didn’t (or rather chose not to) understand him at which point the group decided to buy a bottle of wine and sit and talk VERY LOUDLY to each other.  When we got back I was very grateful that my bed was waiting for me.

The Mekong Delta is, as it sounds, the large Delta area of the Mekong to the far South of Vietnam.  I went on a boat trip into the Delta which was brilliant.  We started on a boat for about fifteen people and went across a large section of water before going into the smaller waterways.  We stopped at a place where they processed coconuts and made various sweets etc.  They were really nice but slightly sickly for my liking.  There was also a very dubious spirirt which, to be honest, just tasted like pure alcohol and not a lot else.  After the tasting session we went on a bike ride around some of the villages.  The paths were bumpy and narrow and I, somewhat foolishly, made  a joke about riding into the river.  Although I wasn’t the casualty a Scottish guy fell off his bike and then was really ill.  I think it was the shock of the fall combined with the heat but he could not carry on.  Luckily we were next to a local’s house and they kindly let him go and sit in the shade of their living room.  One of his friends waited with him and we cycled back.  He was then picked up on the back of a motorbike.  As with all things Vietnamese, the actual time the bike ride took seemed to be somewhat different to the time we were told.  When asked whether we wanted to go a 30 minute ride was quoted but it actually turned out to be at least an hour.  Other than the aforementioned casualty (he was fine by the way) the bike ride proved a great way to see the local villages and villagers.  There were some odd contradictions along the way like houses which looked like dishevelled shacks blaring crazy music out.  There was also something which was quite upsetting involving animals but I won’t elaborate as I think it might upset some people who may read this.

After the bike ride we had lunch at a small restaurant.  The food was awesome and I was, again, embarrassed at my inability to use chopsticks.  Following lunch we got back in the boat and went to another part of the delta.  A couple of people held a python while others took photos and then we were given fresh local fruits and treated to local music.  When I say treated, the combination of out of tune singing and bizarre screeching instruments actually sounded more like a cat being strangeld slowly to me but other people seemed to enjoy it.  When one of the crowd was given the stringed instrument to play the locals  and musicians laughed hysterically which I found slightly confusing as, to me, there was no audible difference between this and the first performance.

 After having our my eardrums punished we were taken on a boat ride down a small channel.  It was a large canoe like boat with a woman propelling us forwards with an oar at the front and a man at the back.  We seemed to be going faster than everyone else and kept overtaking peoplel.  When we went past one boat a German lady said, “Ahhh, Schumacher”, I replied, “No Hamilton” and she completely blanked me.  Hmmmm!

 The small boat took us back to out boat and we made out way back to the mainland.  On the way back in the bus we had a blow out which was a bit of a pain but it was okay in the end. 

After leaving the Windsor Plaza hotel I headed by taxi to the backpackers’
area of the city. I went to two ‘hotels’ which were full and wandered
round like a gormless idiot looking for somewhere to stay. I came across
another ‘hotel’ which was also fully booked and they phoned all of their
partnership ‘hotels’ which had no spaces either. I was beginning to feel
a bit like I was in Bethlehem or something. So I wandered around some
more and after countless offers of a lift decided that I would take one.
I went to get on the back of a motorbike and as the guy put my bag on the
bike decided I wanted to live beyone 28 and gave up on the idea. Then I
came across a guy on a “cyclo”, basically a bicycle with a bucket seat on
the front which you sit in. He said that he knew a good “hotel” and,
despite the fact that my guidebook said to avoid such situations (as the
person who takes you often gets commision and they mark the price up) I
decided it was a good plan.

You are possibly wondering why I keep writing “hotel” with inverted
commas. This is because they are called hotels but are basically hostels/
guesthouses. Places described as hotels here are not necessarily what you
would associate with the title of hotel in England. Right, now that’s
cleared up I’ll stop with my inverted comma thang.

When I got to the hotel I got a warm welcome and was informed that it was
$12 USD for a room with air-con or 10 for one with a fan. I was shown one
room which was fine, had a bed and an adjoining room with a shower. I
remember thinking, I bet the floor would all get really wet and think I
must have done that old transparent thinking thoughts to facial
expressions thing that I am so good at as he then showed me another one.
He apologised for it not being cleaned but said it would be if I waited an
hour. To be honest I couldn’t quite see what the fuss was about. The
room was lovely, had a double bed and ensuite with shower, bath and
toilet. There were funny touches like the pipe above the bath had fake
ivy wrapped around it to try and conceal it. Now why didn’t I think of
that before I got the pipes boxed in in my spare room! I meant to take
some pictures of the room but forgot. I may ask if I can when I get my
bag this afternoon. There was also a television which weirdly had more
channels than the one at the previous Hotel (that one’s a proper one so
gets a capital H!). In all fairness I loved the time at the hotel. The
whole family were so welcoming and it was beyond adequate and clean. In
terms of the prices, around $120 ish dollars for the first hotel or $10
for the second I know what I’d choose! If anyone is visiting Saigon I
would strongly recommend it. It’s in the backpackers’ district as I said
and is called “Betty” (9 Do Quang Steet, District 1, Ho Chi Min City
(Saigon), phone (84) (8) 8.360219). It also has free internet access but
it’s slow. If you do stay there I do not recommend plugging anything into
the USB ports if you use the computer. I tried to charge my Ipod and it
killed it. Fortunately it has now been resucitated and it turned out that
the evil machine only drained its battery. The USB port also managed to
give me a few electric shocks.

I followed the owner back downstairs and asked if he recommended anywhere
for tours. He asked which I was interested in and before I knew it he had
phoned to book me on one and was rushing me out the door and onto the bus.
I suddenly realised that I had left my bag in the hallway of the hostel
and that I had no idea of the name or really where it was as he had taken
me a weird back route down alleyways to the coach. Anyway, I tried to put
these thoughts out of my mind and concentrated on the trip.
As we pulled away the tour guide began to talk about the trip. I didn’t
quite catch whether he said it was two and a half miles or two and a half
hours. It transpired it was the latter. It was fine though as the
journey was an excursion in itself. It was really interesting to leave
the city and go through the outskirts and smaller areas.

We visited the palace first. It was an amazing place full of colours so
gaudy they really shouldn’t have worked together. At one end there was a
huge egg/ ball with an eye on it enshrined by pillars and more amazing
colours. I don’t think my description will do it justic so it’s probably
best I shut up until I upload the pictures of it. We went upstairs and
waited as various different religions and denominations came into pray.
It was really amazing to observe. If you look in the pictures you’ll see
that the different religions wear different colours, again I’m rubbish and
can’t remember which is which.

After the palace we travelled to the tunnels. The Cu Chi tunnels were
used by the Vietnamese during the Vietnamese War to evade the Americans
and as vital transport links. It was really interesting and amazing that
they had kitchens, hospitals and other unimaginables underground. We were
shown an entry to a tunnel to go through and for some reason I went in
first. It suddenly got a whole lot narrower than I thought and I had
second thoughts. I went back out and tried to psych myself up. There
were two other English girls on the trip who I had been talking to who
were also not entirely convinced. In the end we waited for other people
to go through and then went in. I went in first and, as the tunnel
dropped down a couple of feet and narrowed, I met someone coming the other
way. I had a bit of a freak and said, “I need to get out” to the girl
behind me. She said that she couldn’t go backwards as her backpack was
wedged against the top of the tunnel. The person coming the other way
signalled that we could go right and get out and pointed towards a dark
unlit tunnel. I went down there and it transpired that someone had closed
the hatch. Although it was a bit of a heart-rate booster I’m glad I went
through. It’s even more amazing that people spent so much time
underground when you realise that the tunnels have been widened for
tourists to go through. The original tunnels we saw were tiny, many
designed that way for the Vietnamese frame and much harder for Americans
to access. When we all emerged safely from the tunnels our thoughtful
guide informed us that he had previously taken someone their who had a
heart attack and died. Well I guess it’s better to have found out after
the event!

When we got back to Saigon I realised that my worries about not knowing
where my hotel and bag were were very accurate. I wandered round for ages
with countless people offering me lifts. They would have been very
helpful if I knew the name of the hotel. After about an hour I bumped
into one of the English girls from the trip who found it very amusing that
she and her husband had been to an internet cafe and had dinner in the
time that I had spent ambling around like a goon. She did show me where
they were staying though and said that I was very welcome to stay with
them if I couldn’t find the hotel. One of the problems was that when I
left it was light and when I returned it was dark and everyrthing looked
different. I had also not explored the city at all at this point and
didn’t know my way around. I started trying to remember what it looked
like and remembered it was blue and had bikes outside. Although this was
not really very good in terms of narrowing places down it was enough as I
found the hotel. Needless to say I slept very well that night!

I got to the hotel and found out that they hadn’t got my online
reservation. I later discovered an email telling me that there were not
any vacancies. Anyway the email was a big stinking lie as I checked in.
I just forgot the name of the hotel but then remembered I’d “borrowed” one
of their pens so the name was the “Windsor Plaza Hotel”. I would have
“borrowed” more of their goodies (hey it’s the law in hotels) but
unfortunately I’m very conscious of the lack of space I have and the fact
I have to carry everything so ended up taking a pen and some cotton buds!
The point of booking it from England was so that I knew I had somewhere to
go which was okay, and to this end it sufficed. My room was huge and I
had lovely views over Saigon. Well, when I say lovely views, at the
height I was you could distinctly see a layer of smog. In fact the next
morning this all kind of clung to the window due to temperature
differences and it became hard to see out. I guess that’s why a lot of
locals wear face masks all the time.

When I got to my room (about 2pm) I decided to have a short nap before
heading out to get some food. I don’t think I realised how tired and jet
lagged I actually was. I woke up at eight o clock, decided I couldn’t be
bothered to go and get any food and went back to sleep. I then woke up at
about 3AM and decided to take the time to make plans for my time in Saigon
and my journey North to Hanoi. I dozed slightly, watched entertaining
television and decided I would wait for sunrise. Sunrise was a bit of a
disappointment as you don’t really see the sun rise as such in Saigon you
just see the sky turn a different shade of grey. I then went up to the
roof top pool and took some photos of the city (I will put these and other
pictures on the website when I find a connection which is quicker than me
running in ridiculous heels). The pool was quite nice and next to a gym
with two very fat Vietnamese men running on running machines. I couldn’t
help thinking that they would have been better exercising outside rather
than in a strange air-conditioned gym but then again I guess they may have
expired.

When the time came for breakfast I put my flip-flops on and left my room.
As I walked towards the lift four Vietnamese people from the room down the
corridor stared at my feet in horror. I remembered reading about feet in
my guide book and the fact that they are seen as dirty by the Vietnamese
people. As I was going to be in a place where people were eating I went
back to my room and changed into trainers. I then went down to the
restaurant for breakfast and realised that the vast majority of people
were wearing flip-flops or sandals. I thought this slightly odd for a
moment and then realised that the reason they were looking at my feet in
horror was not because they were morally impaired to have seen them but
because my tangerine fake tan was coming off in an abnormal fashion and
that they probably thought I had some weird from of leprosy!

Breakfast itself was very nice with a huge amount of choice. I opted for
some delicious local fruit, fruit juice and a yoghurt. Okay, I’ve just
realised that I’ve told you what I had for breakfast which may be
construed as slightly dull. The reason I mentioned it was more to try to
convey the fact that the local fruits here are amazing. There are a lot
of funky new fruits to try and the more known fruit, like pineapple,
bananas etc tastes infinitely nicer, probably as it hasn’t been frozen for
a couple of years before being consumed in England.

After breakfast I went and got my bag and checked out. I then attempted
to leave the hotel which took me about 30 minutes. The reception was not
on the gournd floor and every time that I asked someone where the exit was
I ended up on a different floor in a different place due to communication
dififculties. I eventually managed to escape the perilous hotel and got a
taxi.

Although in its title this may sound a bit of a strange entry but believe
me journeys by road here are enough to fill an entire library. The roads
are absolutely crazy. Katie Mehlua got it wrong when she sang about
bicycles in Berlin, I might write to her and suggest she pen, “mad
motorbikes and psychotic scooters in Saigon”. Honestly until you witness
it for yourself it is hard to describe. Firstly the sheer volume of
traffic is unbelievable. On one of my tours the guide said that,”It’s
always rush hour in Saigon” and he was not joking.  He also told us another story which happened when one of the buses he was in hit a bike.  The Police pulled the bus over and the Policeman asked the driver two questions.  The first was, “Did you see the red light?”, to which the driver answered, “Yes.”.  The second was, “Why didn’t you stop” to which the driver answered, “because I didn’t see you”.  Both of these anecdotal tales seem to sum up the road situation rahter well!

 They (allegedly) drive
on the right here, but don’t by any means think that that means they all
do. The one rule seems to be that you sound your horn almost
continuously. It doesn’t seem to be used in an aggressive way, more in a,
“I’m a vehicle on the road and I have a horn” way. Okay, that wasn’t
meant to sound quite as ominous as it did. Despite the, what seems like
mayhem, I haven’t actually seen any accidents yet which, believe me, is
somewhat of a shock. Actually I did see a bike run someone’s foot over
but that hardly classifies as a major road traffic incident!

The other slightly odd thing here which I have never seen before is countdowns on the traffic lights.  Above the red light there is a digital display (well LEDs) which countdown the number of seconds before the lights either change to green or red.  I would have thought that this in itself was asking for trouble but someone obviously thought it a good idea in their wisdom!

When I got into the taxi at the airport I had to make a decision. I am
normally a rubbish passenger as my family, and possibly a few other people
who have ever had the misfortune of driving me anywhere, will testify. So
I had to decide whether I was going to get insanely nervous or just
concede that the roads were like this here, I may die, I may not, but it
may aswell be from an accident rather than a heart attack! I chose the
latter and since this point have been surprisingly relaxed about the whole
roads situation. That said I have forgotten on occasion. Like when we
got back into the tour bus once and I thought, “Oh My GOD, what’s
happened, why is everyone beeping like mad”, then, within an instant,
remembered that this was normal and that, in fact, I should be far more
disturbed if people weren’t beeping.

In terms of crossing the road you just have to be assertive and go. I
made the mistake of waiting for a space for a short while. This resorted
in me either standing on the roadside for a VERY long time or friendly
locals worrying that I might sink into the melting tarmac and assisting me
across the road. It still amazes me slightly that you can cross the road
pretty much when you like and that everything avoids you. I think that
one of the reasons for this, and the fact that there are not more
accidents, is the fact that no-one really drives that fast. This appears
to be more down to the vehicular limitations than the want of the driver.

Perhaps the most eventful event on the road thus far was a blow out in our
coach on the way back from the tour to the Mekong Delta. I was listening
to my Ipod at the time and thought that it had gone wrong! There wasn’t
any swerving or anything just a loud noise. Apparently there was a
problem with the spare (i.e. they didn’t have one!) so they took the tyre
to get it fixed. Miraculously, given the shredded state of the said tyre,
it came back looking roadworthy and got us all the way back to Saigon.

On the same journey I reset my Ipod as it wasn’t doing what I wanted it
to. In hindsight I wasn’t asking it properly but at the time I thought it
was being petulant! Anyway, when I reset it it reverted to Chinese! If
any of you have ever had to try and decipher a menu in another language
(particularly one without the same character set as your own) you will
understand the frustration and timeliness of sorting it out. I got there
in the end though and it proved a welcome distraction from blown out
tyres!

Finally, and after that slight ramble, I arrived at my hotel and checked in.

I arrived in Hong Kong very early in the morning. I pottered around the
airport for about an hour or so. I had a couple of cigarettes in the
small, somewhat nasty, smoking rooms. I couldn’t quite tell if all the
men inside stared at me because I was breaking some kind of social more by
smoking as a woman or whether it was that when I went in I managed to
crash the glass door against the wall with some force. The doors did look
much heavier than they were and by this point I was operating on very
little sleep. Hong Kong itself was very misty, to the extent that I
thought the Pilot might struggle landing. The mist cleared slightly and I
could make out the mountains in the distance.

I was misled by my timetable as the landing time in Saigon was an hour
after departing from Hong Kong. It soon became apparent that I was
crossing yet another time zone and the flight was in fact, longer than I
thought.

After a relatively short flight I touched down in Saigon. Prior to
landing we were told that it was 31 degrees and by God it felt it when I
got out of the plane in my long-sleeved top and jeans. My bag took what
felt like an eon to come around the baggage counter and I wondered if it
had decided to end its journey in Hong Kong rather than continuing as I
did. Eventually it popped through the sliced rubber cat-flap and I
prasied it for making the journey from Heathrow without consulting me.

At customs I had a plastic bag with two books in. I put it on the desk as
the customs guy looked at my passport. He pointed at the bag and said
‘bomb?’. I said, ‘No, books’. He continued to point at the bag and
repeat his question as I maintained my response. I was sligtly bemused by
this and looked over my shoulder to check whether I was about to be
surrounded by armed guards. When it transpired that no-one else was
taking him seriously I decided that he just had a rubbish sense of humour.

I went out of customs, changed some money and ordered a taxi at the desk.
Although this was probably more expensive (about 6 pounds for a 30 minute
journey) the sight of the gaggling crowd of drivers touting for business
was not a tempting one in my somewhat dishevelled state. The man at the
counter pointed to a spot where I should wait outside, smoke a cigarette
and then he would come and take me to my taxi. I obliged and, having
discovered half-way through my cigarette that I was surrounded by
no-smoking signs, I realised that he had also not come out. I tried to go
back into the airport and was stopped by a guard who said I could not
re-enter the building. After looking pathetic and making random hand
gestures he appeared to feel sorry for me and let me back in – or maybe it
was just the smell he could not tolerate after my long journey!

I went back to the desk and found the guy sat with all his colleagues
happily tucking into his lunch. His instant overly apologetic reaction
led me to believe (I don’t think naively) that he had simply forgotten.
He took me outside to a taxi and I began the journey from the airport to
my hotel in Saigon.

So, the start of my journey….

Having left to get to Heathrow with plenty of time for the suggested 3
hour prior to arrival check-in, we traveled almost the whole journey in
gridlock on the M25.  It turned out that the suggested 3 hours was overly
cautious though and I caught my plane in plenty of time.  Unfortunately
the plane was completely full so there was no possibility to try and blag
an upgrade.  It was a mahusive plane with two floors.  I was sat in the
middle of a sweet little Old Eastern lady and a youngish boy with his
extended family to my right.  Prior to take off I spent a couple of minues
wondering what the pouch under the old lady’s top was.  I considered the
fact that she may be a suicide bomber and then tried to reassure myself
that she was a lovely old lady.  This didn’t help as I then realised that
she was traveling alone (yes much like myself, but I don’t have -quite-
such a large paunch).  Needless to say the lump turned out to be a bum bag
and she was lovely and helped me with my various gubbins when I had to
clambour over her to go to the toilet.

The plane itself was nice with decent meals, free drinks and snacks.  Each
seat had a screen with various films, music, games etc.  I was greatly
amused by this when the boy to my right made numerous attempts to watch
completely unsuitable films for his age.  His mother, needless to say, was
somehat less amused.  when he fell asleep I took the opportunity to watch
‘No room for old men’.  Unfortunately he woke up half way through and
seemed enthralled by the various shootings, blood and gore.  His mother
looked on disparigingly but I was relatively into the film at this stage
so did not really want to stop it.  She took it upon herself to put a film
on for her son which, to me, seeemd to basically amount to soft porn with
a quasi-feminist message.  She seemed to delight in the ’empowerment’ the
women gained in doing seedy dancing for men, seducing them and then going
on to preverbially ‘do them over’.  This seemed to divert the boys’ eyes
from my film.  So I guess that the message here is that soft ‘pro-woman’
porn is a gopd thing for young boys to watch, whereas dark violence is
not.

The rest of the flight passed without incident and I arrived in Hong Kong.

Welcome to my blog.  Please feel free to add comments.  It’s the night before my trip and I am a bit of a bundle of undulating nerves and excitement.  Not long now!!!!!