Life on the Delta

I just want to point out before I begin that I'm heavily relying on Chris's blog for this part of the trip. Not that the Mekong Delta wasn't memorable, it's just that so much happened, it's hard to keep straight. So thanks to Chris for being such a disciplined blogger.

Okay, so now I'm feeling like a lazy blogger. But in my defense, I found it hard to write on the road, as all we had was this dysfunctional device (I can't remember what it was exactly, as we ditched it long ago, but it was like a mini-laptop). We had to type on this itty-bitty keyboard which would erase posts if a pinky finger strayed. It was frustrating beyond words. Plus, Chris was always using it for his blog, and I had 50 Shades of Grey to read—so, that's my story. I'd like to say that I've been enjoying the process of catching up, even if three and a half years have passed. It's a good way of challenging my memory and also reliving the experience.

The Mighty Mekong

Some info on the Mekong—it's the world's 12 largest river, spanning six countries (China, Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam). The Mekong Delta takes up a large area of Southern Vietnam, emptying out into the South China Sea via numerous tributaries. It would be a crime to travel throughout Southeast Asia and not visit this important river and the communities that rely on its waters.

We signed up for an overnight trip into the Delta region. According to Chris's blog, we piled onto a crowded bus with other travelers one early morning and headed out of HCMC. Our first stop was at a place called Unicorn Island where there was a bee farm. Oh goody—bees. I've had a phobia of them since I once had one caught in my hair when I was younger and went ballistic trying to get it out. Just the buzz of a bee near my ear is enough to send me screaming and running. However, the bees at this farm had no interest in stinging us. We were brought to this place to sample some goodies: honey tea, banana wine, banana and ginger chips. This sampling of things was indicative of our whole 2-day trip—a little bit of everything, but nothing terribly special.

The sun was brutal. I saw tourists were buying traditional Vietnamese hats, you know, the conical straw ones. I might have seen this as tacky, but the locals were also wearing them. And they were practical for keeping both the sun and rain off your head. I knew I'd never be able to pack such a thing in my bag, but I bought one anyway. It provided much-needed shade out on the water, as we rowed through mangrove swamps.

There were six of us in a canoe: four tourists and two older Vietnamese ladies who did the rowing. Nothing impresses me more than the vigor of older Asian women. Any of them look like they could beat you at arm-wrestling. The two elderly ladies rowed our fat tourist asses through the swamps under that hot sun and didn't seem to be struggling. However, they did pass the oars off to us every now and then, though we figured it was just to make us feel part of the experience more than it was asking for assistance.

Our canoe slid through the brown waters between clumps of mangroves, in a line of canoes leading us all to the same spot: a tasting area. More goodies were presented as we sat down at tables. Exotic fruits such as dragonfruit and lychees were put in front of us, along with other fruits we couldn't identify. Some were tasty, and some were not. I enjoyed the mangoes the most, but that's because I'm not very exciting.

We sat across from a charming Aussie chap named Paul, and a Chinese girl named Faye who was perky and adorable. Their smiley ways made the experience that more enjoyable. As we sat trying out all the fruit, a pair of Vietnamese girls came up and serenaded us with "If You're Happy and You Know It." I'm not sure how this was considered a cultural experience, but they were cute in their presentation, and because we were all in good spirits, we tipped them when they passed us a hat.

Oh, what else happened? There were so many little things we tried, and most of them are not worthy of recording. I know that at one point I tried snake wine. There was a huge jar of murky liquid with a rather large snake coiled up inside. A daunting sight to say the least. We were told that snakes used for snake wine are venomous, though the venom dissolves in alcohol. The wine was rice wine, distinctly different from grape wine. The taste is like that of rubbing alcohol, at least I get that sense. A shot glass of the snake wine really packed a punch. Chris wouldn't try it, but I was more adventurous. Yeah—it was pretty lethal, as dangerous as it looked.

We were ushered from place to place, shown how coconut candy is made and how rice wine is distilled. At one point we had the opportunity to try luwak coffee, as we had in Bali. I found the Vietnamese version to be sweeter and tastier whereas Chris preferred the Balinese. Who knew one could form a preference for poo-flavored coffee?

We were taken to another island where lunch was provided. Though we were tempted with culinary delights such as crocodile and snake, we played it safe with veggies, pork and rice. After eating, there was the option to either rent a bike and cycle around the island, or take a nap in a hammock. We opted for the hammock, as the heat was killing us. It was a nice interlude, rocking in a hammock and escaping the sun at its peak.

Our accommodation for the night was in the city of Can Tho. Chris and I walked around on our own that night. Can Tho is very much not a tourist city. We found mostly concrete buildings and traffic on our walk. There were no tourist stalls, and this was nice for a change, though we did dine at a fancier restaurant, one that sold cocktails and really decent pasta, so perhaps the tourist tendencies were strong, as we weren't willing to eat like the locals.

Paul, the Aussie with the smile, had been intent on trying just about any creature he came across in Asia. He was off to a good start in the Delta area where anything and everything was up for offer. We had sat with him earlier that day as he gnawed on rat meat. I think the menu had read "grilled rat.” And that was exactly what he got. Though the fur was gone, the bones were still there, and it really appeared that he was eating rat limbs. It was unappetizing to us, but he said it tasted like—what else?—chicken. Chris and I were less inspired to try out new kinds of meats. In Asia, even pork can seem adventurous when bathrooms are hard to come by.

Rolling on a River

On Day Two of our delta adventure, we boarded a boat and set off down the brown rolling rivers of the Mekong to the floating market. We thought this was going to be ultra-touristy, with boats surrounding us trying to sell us their wares. It turned out that this market was authentic, and had probably been going on for generations before tourism set in. The locals sold mostly produce. They would display what they were selling on tall bamboo poles: carrots, cabbage, yams, beets, bananas, and the like. Most of the boats were small and piled high with produce. The bananas were unlike the kind we get in America; these were short and fat and grouped in bundles like colorful works of art. Some of the boats sold flowers. Everything was colorful and lively, though the pace was slower than I thought it would be. Everything seemed so laidback on the Mekong. Even the driver of our boat was unconcerned with river traffic, steering the boat with his feet while he ate a bowl of pho.

A newly-married couple sidled up beside us in a speedboat. They made no effort to engage us; rather they were there for photographic reasons. The woman was dressed in red lace, so beautiful and elegant, while the man wore a gleaming white suit. They pressed their hands together and bowed their heads, as if honoring the river, while a photographer snapped away on another boat.

Further up the river we saw a man and a bike being transported on a canoe from one bank to the other, rowed by an elderly woman. The bike was bigger than the boat. This struck us as funny, I don't know why. I guess the way the locals view boats is the way we view cars. Being on a boat seemed second nature to them. Me—I would never live on a boat, the way that I suffer from motion sickness. Thankfully the Mekong, though rolling, was manageable. Like the people, the river just flowed and rolled without a care in the world. Though I will add a side-note here that the Mekong is currently being threatened with the building of dams upstream, endangering the livelihood of many who live on the river. Such is the problem with a river which winds through six different countries. Who owns the Mekong? It's an ongoing debate.

We made several other stops that day, but I can't really say what they were. In his blog Chris writes about the making of rice noodles, but I can't be bothered to relate it here. We stopped at another fruit farm where we marveled at the size of dragonfruit and whatnot dangling from trees. Yes, there was no doubt in our minds that the Mekong Delta is fertile and vibrant with life.

Back in the City

After a long bus ride back to HCMC, we found accommodation down the same alley we had stayed before. However, this guesthouse had air conditioning and cable. We watched HBO movies and shows. lounging in the A/C like complete loafs. We did wonder out from time to time to eat and take care of business. I say business, because I had a tooth that was hurting me. Before I left America for the UK, I had my fillings redone—all seven of them. It had been torture, but the fear of British dentistry propelled me to get this done. Anyway, I thought I was good for awhile. So why was one of my teeth hurting, particularly the tooth that was supposedly dead, sacrificed to a root canal ten years before? There was no tooth left to suffer a cavity, just an artificial cap. So why was it hurting so damn bad? The pain was so severe that it was keeping me awake at night. I thought it was time to get it checked, and from all the smiling tooth signs across District 1, I thought this place was as good as any.

My experience at a Vietnamese dentist was pretty painless. They checked me over, X-rays and such, and told me I was good. Then they gave me a teeth cleaning, which I desperately needed after three years of heavy British tea-drinking. I'm like "Really—that's all?" And they're like "Yeah, you're good" and gave me the thumbs up. Okay, so they didn't see any cavities. Excellent—only, the pain was still there.

I found the Vietnamese people to be docile. They weren't in your face trying to sell you things. They weren't hostile (as I had feared) and they weren't false in order to weasel money out of you. They seemed to just go about their business, and if you were part of that business, then they would do their best to cater to you. There was a quiet dignity about them, perhaps because they were people who had suffered in the past and yet are making the best of the present. There's a lot that can be learned from that.

Though there was that one hawker. When we were sitting outside at a cafe in HCMC, a young lady selling bracelets approached us. I always hated getting meals interrupted by hawkers, so I probably wasn't very polite. I got up to go to the bathroom and when I came back, Chris was fingering some leather straps and smiling with the young girl. We had just bought leather bracelets in Bangkok on our last journey through, so I didn't see the need to buy more. I conveyed this to Chris, and he shook his head at the girl. And boy did she stare daggers into me! She spat out something in Vietnamese, something like "Die bitch!" and hung around glaring at me. I was actually scared of her, the hate was that intense. I thought she might go summon her brother or a group of guys to come beat me up. I guess I forget how important a simple sale sometimes is to people who are struggling. Still, encounters like this were incredibly rare.

We were just at the start of our trip through Vietnam. All in all, we'd be in Vietnam for a full month. Though this gave us lots of breathing room to move around in a single country without worrying about visas and border crossings, there was a larger trip ahead of us to ponder. Our return home loomed, and that was a still a huge question mark. What does one do when they're essentially homeless? We had to sort that out.