First Day in Nga Trang

Tuesday, Feb. 22.
Peter has brought me here so I can get my beach/swimming fix. Beach and surf - we definitely have an abundance. We leave the door to the balcony open all night and I am constantly awaken to the crashing, just like in San Jose before the hotels lined the beach. It is too bad that Los Cabos had not thought of the Mexicans when they began development. Here, all the hotels are across the melacon with good views and a few steps walk for the foreigners, but the locals not only have access to the beach, but use it extensively.
The use begins at 5 am. Or earlier! This morning we are awaken by a blare of music and the leader barking out instructions. When we look, there are about thirty ladies all limbering-up in the parking lot of the restaurant across the street. The music changes and now they are bouncing and running on the spot to an upbeat tune. This session last exactly one hour, after which the ladies appear to be putting money into a container, getting on their motor vehicles or bicycles and riding into the sunrise! Next we hear excited chirping. Now there are four couples, plus substitutes, playing doubles badminton in the same lot. They are not young, noted by the greying hair. As 7 a.m. approaches, cars and motorcycles begin to drive through the court and park at the back. At precisely 7, the nets and poles are wrapped-up and given to the restaurant attendant and the players ride off with their rackets. This same pattern happens each morning while we are here. I adapt by awakening at 4:55, closing the door and window, turning on the air-conditioner, and going back to sleep. Peter sleeps through the activity until we naturally awaken around 8.
Early morning badminton.


View from our balcony in the morning.

After a scrumptious buffet breakfast (you can tell I have had my soup!), we pack our laundry into three plastic bags - with bleach, without bleach - coloured-washes separated - and go in search of a laundry. We are way too cheap to pay hotel prices and we know they will out-source to a little old lady down the street!
Hint: when you want laundry done, head for the Backpackers’ district.
We discover Tran Le Anh Khoa, born 1981, on the sidewalk with a sign in English: laundry, haircuts, motor bike rental, parking, and he sold pop and cigarettes as well. Two in one. Fifty cents per kilogram for the washing - the cheapest yet, and Peter can not only have his hair cut, he gets nose and ear hair clipped as well. Tran whips out the mirror and hangs it on the wall, folds-out the chair, sets his bag of instruments on a little shelf, and he is in business. For 35,000 dong ($1.75) Peter looks like a new man. Our laundry will be ready at 7 p.m., so off we go leaving almost all our clothes in the trusted hands of a Vietnamese street merchant.


Peter before: he looks a little worried.

Peter and the barber: now he looks happy.

A thread-art artist.

A thread-art picture. Around $2000 usd.

We laze at the beach for the afternoon, $1.50 each for a wooden lounge chair with thick pad and a palapa for shade. The waves are churned-up, so I swim a little, but feel it is unsafe with the undertow. I have noticed that the locals swim between 5 a.m. and 10 when the South China Sea is calm! It is nice to rest and read. Peter is still rating ladies wearing bikinis. More no’s than yes’s. I think the French and Russian are the most comfortable with their bodies because even the 250-pounders wear bikinis.
As we have skipped lunch, we have an early supper and head back to fetch our laundry. Only the Dad is there and he gives us one red bag. It contains the white stuff. “Where are the coloured?” we ask. Simultaneously, Tran arrives on the motorcycle and father discovers the other red bag beside where the first had been. Much laughing all around; a little relief on our part. On our way back we discover a short street that is only open at night with venders in stalls, like the stalls on the way into town or during fiesta time in San Jose. The food at the restaurants is ridiculously cheap, and bargaining is the norm at the shops. I get a few gifts.
It has been a long day since 5 am., so we are in bed early.

The beach we used.




The main streets have lots of these flower pot arrangements.

Peter looks happy. Must be dinner time.

On the Road to Nga Trang

Monday, Feb. 21.
When we awaken at 6 a.m., the huge park across the street is alive with activity. Men in black marshal-arts outfits are going through their paces, a group of women are exercising in unison, two young girls in shorts and t-shirts are playing badminton with no net, and tens of people are walking, jogging, or running on the various paths. The Vietnamese appear to have a heritage of physical fitness.
After breakfast, we drag our bags around the corner, past the motorcycles that use the sidewalk as a parking lot. Our bus fills-up and we are on our way to Nga Trang. For the first 1 ½ hours, we go through a cities, but this one must have a Catholic past as there are at least 10 Catholic churches. Some are being newly constructed. Must be overseas parishes helping, as this town is far from prosperous. Once we leave here, the bus finally is able to travel faster than 60 k/hr. We no sooner get going than we make our first pit stop at a clean and prosperous looking gas station, general store, and restaurant combination.
As we travel, we notice the rest stops for local travelers. They consist of hammocks tied between two trees (usually by rubber tree plantations) with blue tarpaulins over head, a low plastic table between two and a canteen and WC near by. The really fancy ones even have a low plastic lawn chair as well.

An example of beauty in mid-city.

A transport motorcyle at first pit stop.

The Vietnamese rest stop.

We stop at Mui Ne, a very touristy town where some people get off our bus and more get on. This is our lunch break. The South China sea is to our right and huge sand dunes to our left. As we head north, more mountains rise to our left and we drive past many miles of graves (cemeteries) at the base of the mountains. I wonder if this is sacred ground or just not good for farming. We pass five wind-generators like they have in southern Alberta. Finally, the area flattens-out and there are many rice fields We also see our first sheep. They have a shepherd watching the flock.

Animal power is still the norm.

Fields of graves.

I think this guy is lost.

Soon, we make our final pit stop. The men’s and ladies’ washrooms are not really separated - just designated four private stalls for the women, two at the end for the men and the urinals across from the men’s toilets. This is a better arrangement than what we saw earlier where a local bus was stopped at the side of the road and the men were lined-up by the fence in that back-to-the-road stance.
North of here the housing appears very poor with mostly unpainted-clap-board construction. Must be too far from an administrative centre. The mountains keep looming bigger. We reach a beautiful bay, sand dunes, then what appears to be an airport building. We are on a four-lane divided highway! This is the newly developing area just south of Nga Trang. We time the bus and it is fully thirty-five minutes until we reach the town. It is now quite dark and the city is lit-up. The main street by the water is again a four-lane divided boulevard. Our hotel is only three or four minutes away from our drop-off point.
The Nga Trang Lodge is only a few years old, but shows signs of wear. The carpet in our room has a severe cigarette burn right in the middle. But, our room is large with an ocean view and a balcony from which we can watch the action on the beach, in the park, and on the boulevard. There is a round-about at the corner by the hotel and the traffic flow could entertain all day!
As it has been a long day, we simply go to the hotel dining room. The prices are very reasonable, but we are the only patrons during our meal. One lone gentleman arrives just before we leave. We discover during our time here, there are hundreds of places to choose from to eat in this active little town.
Note: An efficient way to cut the really good, crispy buns (like the torpedo shaped ones in Mexico) is to cut them with a long-pointy pair of scissors. Learned by watching the street vendors!

Sand dunes that go on for miles.

Homes outside the city.





The view from our balcony at night.

Last day in Ho Chi Minh city / Sai Gon

A beautiful building and flowers in contrast to the Sai Gon river.

Sunday, Feb. 20
What a pleasure to have the alarm silent. We arise at our leisure and have breakfast with a lovely young couple, both left Vietnam as children and have had a good life in Australia. She still has relatives here, so will do some volunteer work during their holiday.
After taxiing to our new, somewhat shabbier hotel, we spend the afternoon just wandering the upscale part of the city centre. It is too far from the action for us. We walk by the river. I’m amazed at the speed of the current in the Sai Gon river. The streets are quite empty in these areas, but the roads and streets by where we are seem even busier than other days. I manage to get some much needed lipstick at the market.

This lady is selling refreshments.
An iconic building in the new business/hotel area.

A normal parking lot!



A game of shirts on/shirts off soccer. In the morning hundreds of people are exercising, running, playing badminton with no net. The Vietnamese are a very active lot.

We return for an early supper to the Beautiful Saigon Hotel Restaurant and, after impeccable service and a scrumptious meal we say goodbye to Nguyen. We get a picture of the ingratiating smile. Early to bed as the alarm will go off in the morning at 5:45. Yuk.


Wouldn't you love to wrap him up and take him home? He works seven days a week, from 2 p.m. until 10 p.m., and he always has a smile.

Mekong Delta tour.

Saturday, Feb. 19.
Our driver and another driver are waiting when we leave at 7:15 a.m. I suppose the lady did not feel it was worth her trouble. Yes, the price will be the same. Today we take a slightly different route - the round-about. This is way more exciting than leaving the red light just as it changes and going left in front of the oncoming traffic as we did yesterday!
The area in front of the tourist office is in utter chaos today. There are more tours buses and tourists. Today our Mekong Delta tour leaves a few minutes late. We have the same guide we had yesterday, so we hear the same jokes.
About half-way on our 1 ½ hour trip to our first stop, we make a pit/smoke break at an incredibly elaborate restaurant/tourist store complex with many extremely clean W.C.’s. One of the small restaurant buildings is extra fancy and has on the wall a picture of some crown prince who has visited. Probably, we could probably not afford a meal in this room!

One of the many arms of the Mekong River.

We reach My Tho, a port city with many bridges, the main one for the #1 highway to Phnom Penh was only completed two years ago. Before that all the traffic had to take a ferry to cross this wide section of the Mekong river.
We board a motorized, flat-bottomed boat that will be our main transport in this area. We visit a coconut processing “shack”; ride in a pony-pulled wagon; eat a Vietnamese lunch complete with a whole fish for each table of six, the pieces wrapped in rice paper with some spicy rice, a very spicy-soup, cucumber wrapped in rice paper, and a platter of steamed vegetables.
We move back to the boat, and on to a honey farm. There we can hold the honey comb - Peter does. At the last stop, we are entertained by a group of traditional singers and are fed a variety of local fruits. I now have two more I can buy from the market as I know what they are!

I have a very noisy group of Oriental people at the next table that are annoying, as they are talking through the performance. When the British family at our table start two different conversations, I get up and move closer to the stage so I can hear. This is a good move, as I not only get to video a bit of the performance - voices like gentle birds - I notice a young man at the table singing along with the final song. Once we are back on the boat, he sits in front of us and I ask him about the song. He says he is from the Con Phung (Phoenix Island) area, and that it is a traditional song. He will not be returning to Sai Gon with us, as he and his friends will stay for the weekend and visit his family and his two-year-old son. He works in security at the airport (a good job). His father helped the Americans in the occupation. He does not go to Hanoi as he says the “northerners” have a different mind-set than the people of the south - a nice way of saying the Chinese influence is more there.
Out beautifully-presented and delicious fish.


Imagine the Viet Cong lerking there.

Peter holds the busy bees.

Their voices are as sweet as birds. Not bad looking either!

This snake is interested in my toes.

The ladies wrap each tiny candy in edible rice paper then in waxed paper - all day long.

From the performance they take us by small, four-seater, row boat back to where our bigger boat is docked. All in all, even though we are in a bus of people - not always to our liking - it is a fascinating day.


Aren't they a cute couple! The little and big boats.


On the way back to the city, we again see many fields of rice and many that contain the graves of family members. This is the tradition, to bury in concrete on the family property. We also see lots of kites flying in the open fields. Obviously, this is a local traditional play. In the city, it is hacky-sacking with a circle of three to ten people with any small object being propelled by the feet.

This is how kids ride on a motorcycle/scooter.


Hacky-sacking in the park.
As it is almost 6 p.m. when we return to town, Peter makes another reservation in the office and we seek out a pizza restaurant to let Peter have his weekly fix. After a bit of hesitation, we settle on Pizza Hut. There are more workers than customers when we arrive, but it balances out in time. We must listen very carefully in order to understand the Oriental English, but do have enjoyable pizzas. Peter gets his Pepsi (the cola of choice in Vietnam) and I have a watermelon juice.
We stroll back to the hotel, as we need to stretch our legs and need one more challenge of dodging traffic!
Tomorrow we must change hotels, as we can’t get an extra day here, so we have decided to move down - but not basic - and take a room around the corner for the Sinh tourist office from which we will get an early bus to Nha Trang, and beaches, on Monday (your Sunday) morning.

Cu Chi Tunnels

Catching the bus at 7 a.m.

Friday, Feb. 18.
Our driver and the lady driver arrive right on time. We have no idea how far they have come to get us, so we settle for 30,000 VND each - about $1.50 - for the ride. We ask if they will drive us again tomorrow morning for the same price, and the man accepts. Must be enough.
The sidewalk and the street outside Sinh tourist office are a jumble of people waiting; buses coming, filling, and going; hawkers selling breakfast stuff and tacky-tourist junk; and ordinary people going about their business.
The bus leaves almost on time for the trip to the Cu Chi tunnels. Although it is a propaganda set-up, it is quite fascinating. The various booby-traps set up to kill the Americans are quite ingenious and deadly-looking. The tunnels themselves are Vietnamese size - if American men tried to enter, they would soon come to a narrowing and there would get stuck and become a victim. When they show the video, they show a number of brave young men and women who were awarded medals for killing American soldiers.
We get to eat some tapioca pulp, spiced with sugar and ground peanuts, and a weak tea, the diet of the locals during the war. Now, as before, this area is lush with edible fruits and vegetables.

One of the barbed-spikes.

One type of dooby trap.

Getting in or out of a tunnel.

I'm following her.
I'm next.

I'm glad to be out.

There does not seem to be animosity against the Americans now. As the Subway owner tells us: his ex-girlfriend/still best friend says; the Vietnamese were always fighting somebody and the US conflict was just a skirmish; the Vietnamese actually kicked-ass! Funny though, there is no talk about the Chinese help in the war!
With the help of the Sinh tourist people, Peter is getting the tour of Vietnam ironed-out. The prices are ridiculously cheap.
We return to the Beautiful Saigon hotel restaurant. This sounds fancy, but it is like most in the backpacker’s district: about 15 feet wide and forty feet long, the main level of a rooming-house. We don’t look at the rooms, but lots of people rent in these hotels.
I try the steamed Mekong fish and a plate of steamed carrots, green beans and beans sprouts garnished with a few peanuts. Great W.W. meal.

The Excitement of the city

How to Cross a Street in Ho Chi Minh city:
Make sure there are no cars or busses coming on your side of the road, then weave your way through the scooters and motorcycles to the centre line; now, look in the other direction and make sure there are no cars (this includes taxis) or buses coming and weave your way through the scooters and motorcycles. Regular bicycles don’t count because they can look out for you.
How to Cross a Street in Ho Chi Minh city at a Light:
Remain alert for the sign of the cross-traffic slowing down. Once the vehicles come to an almost stop, weave across your side of the road before the traffic begins to turn into your lane from the traffic going in your direction. Walk in front of the now-stopped vehicles, but as you approach the sidewalk, watch for the scooters and motorcycles making a right-hand turn on the red light.
The Safest Way to Cross a Street in Ho Chi Minh city:
Wait at the corner for one or more locals to come who are crossing the road. Walk beside them as though you belong!
Thursday, Feb. 17.
Our mission today is to sign-up for a couple of tours and to get some travel information from the Sinh (Café) travel agency. With our trusty map and newly acquired skill of crossing streets, we successfully negotiate our way to their ultra-modern efficient agency. All is put together in a minimum of time. We will be there tomorrow at 8 a.m. to go to the Cu Chi tunnels and the next day for a Mekong Delta trip. The office is in the midst of the “backpacker’s” district. We spend the next hour wandering the streets and alleys to see the place and, hopefully, find a restaurant for our dinner. There is not one but a hundred!

The delivery man is pushing his bike backwards to the corner.
Hotels in the Backpackers' District

Each hotel is just one balcony wide.
We have a quick beer (I get more compliments on my hat!) and return to the hotel via the market (where I spot my first little rat scurrying from the market to the sewer) for a pit stop on our way to the War Remnants museum.
I sit outside and read the Vietnam guide book while Peter spends a couple of hours in the museum. I am befriended - of course - by a motorcycle driver. He practices his English, tries to sell me some tours (good business man) and happily shares my crackers (as do some of his fellow drivers). He even gets me one of their small plastic chairs to make my sitting more comfortable. When Peter comes out I inform him that we are taking a motorcycle back to the hotel! The ride is quick because we spend some time going via the sidewalk and some going the wrong way on a one-way street. We think the driver charges us too much, but we have arranged for him to take us to the backpacker’s district in the a.m. and we will set the price or he will have gotten up early for nothing! We will see how that works out.
After a pit stop, we walk to the backpacker’s district and find one restaurant that looked good this a.m. It does not disappoint. Peter has a chicken leg and French fries while I have a small pumpkin soup and shrimp spring rolls. With two beer and two glasses of wine we manage to spend $13.50 in a lovely, clean environment with a waiter whose smile would melt your heart. As we finish our second drinks, he asks if he can speak with us to practice his English. He asks the usual questions - this is not a come-on, but a kid from Dalat just trying to improve to get ahead. The average monthly wage for a waiter would be the equivalent of $100 to $150 Canadian dollars.
We decide this morning that the ratio of motorcycles to cars was 10 to 1. In the evening, this changes so now it is at least 20 to 1. It is the only way to go, so we get a diver who has two helmets, he calls his friend, and we are back to the hotel in five minutes. The price is less than half what we paid earlier, so we have our new price to quote in the a.m.: $1 each/ 20,000 VND.

Yes, it is what you think it is. Anyone for A Tale of Two Cities?

My first successful motorbike/taxi ride.