my first leap

Thursday 27th July to Thursday 2nd August 

Thursday 27th July — Ho Chi Minh City

We came back to Saigon and 3rd cousin invited us to her place in Saigon for lunch. We go straight there. She lives on a busy little side road with her husband’s relatives. Seb and I were both surprised, even in the city centre, how primitive housing and the conditions were. We went to the market with her to buy fresh vegetables and meat. She left us in the market telling us to come back in an hour when lunch would be ready. We wander about this unseen neighbourhood. Eating with her daughter later, I find out that really this tiny room big enough for just one double bed we were sitting in on our bottoms eating off the floor was also her bedroom where her husband and daughter sleep with her. Her only other space is her working area that consists of one sewing machine. After lunch, we sat waiting for her; she was sewing the straps that died on my cheap copy of a North Face bag I bought 2 days earlier (I knew they were copies by the seams but I can’t believe after 2 days the straps buckled on me); next to her on a floor mat slept 2 young children of same height and age; the boy who was severly deformed, his bones not quite right and hugging him was a beautifully formed, pretty angel faced girl. This boy and the one who stared at us in the village are the products of Agent Orange. You still can see the effects of it even now.

We got back to Yellow House Hotel to find that our passports wouldn’t be ready til Monday. We were not happy. We didn’t want to stay in Saigon that long. The hotel suggested we go to Hanoi and they would bus our passports to us. I didn’t like that idea. There was no way I wanted to leave without my passport. Not only that, I had phone calls from mum and my bank asking for me to call. We went to dinner and discussed what we were going to do. Our imaginations ran wild with scenarios of them taking our passports and making copies (Vietnam is one of the copy kings of the world) and selling them off to a woman desperate to leave her farm where she prostitutes herself who looked like me and a guy running from European justice looking like Seb. I had called my bank fearing that someone had used my passport and my VISA details already and was on their way to Europe but no, my bank was just worried because of very frequent withdrawals recently. I confirmed it was me and that was that. After food, we decided we’d go to Muine Beach, 4/5 hours away for the weekend and then come back for our passports.

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Oh man! Aho is here and we’re going to pack to go to Quang Ninh tonight!This is crazy! It’s now 4.33pm, 2nd August. 

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Friday 28th July

We had booked 2 seats on a tour bus to Muine Beach with the hotel yesterday night. It was departing early so we were up at 7am. The computers are near the breakfast table so while they fried my eggs I quickly checked my emails. It reminded me of home when food is being cooked for you and you’re being really quick on the internet before it was time to eat. When the woman came through with my breakfast, I quickly logged off and ran to the table. At 7.30am a man came for us to walk us to the other end of the road and dumped us by the roadside with a dozen other Europeans. We were herded onto a coach. I noticed that half the passengers were locals. At 8.30am, at a dying snail pace, we end up just outside our hotel, we had managed to cover a whole block in an hour. I was beginning to think Muine Beach may not happen today. The great thing about this crawling pace is you get to see people walk across the road. You read a lot on how terrifying it is to cross a Vietnamese road. And if you just watch the traffic, it can look quite a scary task. I’ve never had any problems or qualms about walking across the road in Vietnam. For people who know me, yes, Nick, you know this well (he asked me to do one thing for him when I left Auckland, that is, to look before I cross the road), I’m blind and that’s the best way to cross the road in Vietnam. Look but don’t see and act like the French (as though no one else exists except you) and just walk slowly across and let the vehicles do their thing. I’ve had a mad motorbiker (carrying their 2 children and wife) cutting up the other million drivers in front blocking his view of me and still manage to swerve pass me as I crossed.

When we finally got to Muine Beach and off the coach, we were bombarded by men on motorbikes. You naturally block them out and walk away fast. I did. Seb can’t help but respond to them so I leave him to it. I caught up with a young girl walking a kid. I asked her if she knew of a hotel around here. I managed to catch 2 names when we saw Lucy’s Resort magically appearing in front of us. Lucy’s resort in Muine Beach is a beautiful place of small quaint huts, beautifully kept gardens of banana trees and orchids with its own private beach and very popular with the Vietnamese. We were so disappointed when the business-like lady told us that they were full. But Seb and I are always lucky. While we stood there discussing what we should do; the lady turned to us and told us they did have a room. It seemed that the family behind us had booked a bedroom too many and didn’t want theirs. The hut was clean, orchid flowers were beautifully displayed on trays of towels and necessaries and the fan was silent (to Seb’s delight). One gripe; no hot water. It seems quite normal for them to not offer hot water in some huts and offer in some; you pay a little extra for the hot water. By the time we found out, it was too late and we couldn’t be bothered to move.

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I’m writing this at 3pm in Pingxiang at the more popular internet cafes around and the guy next to me is watching a Chinese period drama and I can see, at the edge of my eyeball, that what he’s watching is mildly pornographic. I’ve not seen a period drama with soft porn before – most of them, showing an ankle is as tantalising as it gets – and I can’t help but try to watch it without turning my head. I think he might have noticed me noticing and had minimized his screen twice. Damn, the story looked interesting as well. But at the moment, the main woman and man are playing various games. Oh, he’s closed the screen and is leaving. Damn. Most exciting bit of my day I think.

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Back to Muine Beach. We were in the reception area when we met Johnny and Marcela from Denmark and Chile who were waiting for their bus. They told us about the waterfall up the river and the frogs’ singing. After dumping our stuff, we rented a motorbike and rode around. The most interesting was seeing the fishing village by the ocean. All over were weaved flat baskets full of dried fish and women crouched over sorting them out. Flies buzzed about the place and in the sea, fishermen steered round weaved bowls (fishing boats) catching fish. We watched amazed at a life we’ve never witnessed before. I didn’t notice but Seb did, that twice we were signalled to leave the area. We understood. I felt bad; I didn’t want to disrupt their lives or privacy but in just the act of observing we were. I can see how it might bother them. I wouldn’t like to be treated as a museum piece or circus freak just for people to stare and take photos. No matter how friendly the visitors, I wouldn’t want to be seen like zoo animals you come to see.

That night, we found 3 non-touristy very popular large foodstalls offering the same sort of foods: hotpot and barbeque. We chose the one with a large family of about 15 people already eating at the centre table. Ordering was simple. We’d point to what our neighbour, a couple, was eating and the food came. We were given a little grill to grill some beef and veg on. Once cooked, we’d wrap a bit of meat with a bit of veg in rice paper. After that we had a hotpot of veg, meat and beancurd, again for us to cook ourselves. The food was delicious. Seb kept looking at a plate our neighbour had and wanting to know what it was. It was squiggy white, like raw squid bits but these bits were round. We asked the friendly waitress and she couldn’t explain to us if it was meat or fish. It was the couple, the woman who told us very specifically what the plate was. Goats’ penises. A plate of goats’ balls. Nice. I asked Seb if he wanted some. He said he’d like to try one but didn’t fancy a whole plate full – I think there were at least a dozen male goats out there feeling not too good right then.

Saturday 29th July —

I was up at the heavenly hour of 5.30am and by that time Seb had already swam in the sea, took some photos of fishermen sorting out their catch for the day and got back to the hut. He told me about the fishermen and I wanted to see so off we went to the beach. While we sat, fishermens’ wives would come up to us offering us shellfish, crabs (green with 3 red dots on their shells), squid and prawns caught this morning. Soon we were eating portions of everything on offer. The best experience ever, to be sucking fresh barbequed seafood with lovely mixed sauce and freshly squeezed lemon – on the beach watching the sea.

We then tackled the river next to the hotel from the beach. I had my pink flipflops on and my long skirt tucked in my underwear so it wouldn’t get wet. The river is an orange sandy colour and I tredded carefully after Seb scared me with talk of leeches and sea snake. I lost my flipflop once and Seb kindly ran to rescue them for me. I soon realised that going to the waterfall was the tourist thing to do here as we passed lots of tourists being taken around by local boys. After an hour, we finally came to the waterfall. To climb to the top, I had Seb helping me climb the rocks. Then we walked back over the waterfall, above the sand dunes and high up along the river. After, Seb persuaded me to swim, in my clothes. I was persuaded. I wouldn’t call it swimming as trying to keep up while the waves try to knock you down. After that we made a mistake and ate at a touristy place, a place with English writing on it offering all types of western foods. The food was disgusting. So disgusting, I couldn’t eat it and we ate again later at the hotel.  

Sunday 30th July —

More swimming and just chilling before we caught the bus back to Yellow House Hotel in Ho Chi Minh City. This time we were given a room on the 5th floor which was a trek without a lift and it rained the night before so the roof leaked at 2 places onto the bed. We were desperate to leave Saigon now so waited for tomorrow for our passports.

Monday 31st July —

We got our laundry and our passports. Hurrah! We were meant to call 3rd cousin and meet up with her if we wanted to catch the train. Her buying the tickets would cost much less than if we bought them. But we couldn’t endure the 29 hours or so train ride and that was the speedy train; the slow would take 39 hours – so decided to catch a plane for $87 each. We had breakfast, grabbed a taxi to the airport and was on flight BL804 on Pacific Airlines. 2 hours later we were in Hanoi.

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Quote of the day