The minibus screeched to a halt, tossed
us out onto the side of the dirt road, pulled a quick three point turn, and
sped off towards Kratie, leaving us in disconcerting silence. The border was
completely empty. No hawkers, no tourists, no houses, no motos. A guard swung
lazily in a hammock under a nearby tree. We cautiously approached the border
window, and had our passports silently stamped to exit Cambodia.
The walk along the five hundred yard
no-man's-land between Cambodia and Vietnam under a blazing sun seemed to take a
lifetime. We trudged in silence thinking, ‘Where are all the people?? How
are we supposed to get to the nearest town?' When we finally reached
the other side, my footsteps echoed loudly in the empty marble entryway. A
sleepy Vietnamese border guard asked my date of birth and what I did for work,
then stamped me into the country. Pete and I walked slowly out of the
customs office, very aware of how alone we were. I stood on the steps of the
customs building, looking out onto an silent road and empty fields for miles,
contemplating how far we could walk before dark and how much longer we could go
without water.
But of course (in true South East Asian
fashion) the action picked up, fast. My eyes spotted motion behind a clump of
trees, and an old man appeared out of nowhere, simultaneously pulling up his
pants and sprinting away into the bushes. I thought briefly of yelling out, or
running after him, but decided against leaving Pete in the bathroom alone and
sprinting off into the jungle after some half-naked man.
I had just decided to beg to the border
guard to call a taxi, when who comes flying back into view? The pantless man of
course! He sped right up on his moto and tossed me a bright pink bike helmet.
Once his friend arrived with a second moto, we zoomed at a dizzying pace into
the nearest town, about 20 km away. I clung to the back of the moto and closed
my eyes as we dodged potholes and fallen trees. With my eyes shut, I could
actually smell the rice in the surrounding fields.
Our day went from panicked, to scary,
to downright serendipitous when we learned that a direct bus to Saigon would be
arriving in five minutes. We had just enough time to chug some water before it
pulled up and we hopped in for the journey south.
The bus was crowded, sweaty, and full
of old men ogling my scratched, bare thighs (I should have put on my long
skirt). I fell asleep on Pete's shoulder with my mouth hanging open and didn't
jolt awake until we entered the outskirts of Ho Chi Min City.
Food was first - banh mi sandwiches and
pho! Vietnamese street food at it's absolute finest. A $0.50 beer and a $1
sandwich while sitting on a cheap, plastic stool on the crowded sidewalk of a
hectic, noisy road. This might be what I miss most about South East
Asia. We found a cheap hostel downtown and spent the night sipping rice
whiskey (disgusting, no offense Pete) at a rooftop bar.
Delicious!
Pete and I decided to take
our first and only group tours of the trip. I was incredibly wary of the
decision and did not hold high hopes for the day. But we did the math, and
taking a tour was by far the cheapest and fastest way to see an interesting
sight around Saigon. Pete decided to check out the Ci Chi Tunnels, part of the
Ho Chi Min Trail. I wish I had joined on this trip. He crawled in the
claustrophobic tunnels, witnessed a Cao Dai ceremony, shot M4s mounted on
military jeeps, and watched authentic North Vietnamese propaganda films from the
1960s.
I thought it would be fun
to see life on the Mekong Delta. Really I just wanted to be out in a boat on
the water for the day. I was expecting picturesque canals, floating markets,
and small rowboats winding among palm fringed islands. Instead I got a bizarre
tour guide wearing three types of plaid and repeating herself incessantly, a
five minute ride in a rowboat (wearing a fake, plastic Vietnamese hat) after
which the rower asked for more money, and an awkward serenade of
"traditional Vietnamese music" while eating tiny pieces of fruit and
getting swarmed by bees.
Some of the many small rivers along the Mekong delta
By the end, everyone on the tour was
glancing at each other and cracking up. But it wasn't all bad. I held an
enormous python, tasted local lychee honey tea, learned how to make coconut
candy, and took a self-guided bike tour of a beautiful, remote island. I
also learned the Vietnamese translation of the Mekong is 'dragon of nine heads'
river. The river delta is filled with many islands with English names like
Unicorn Island and Turtle Island, which symbolize beauty and long life, etc.
Yikes!
Transport on Unicorn Island
Above ground graveyard
Cooling off
Some of the many fishing boats along the Mekong
Dinner was beers and ice cream while we
wandered Saigon, swapped stories of our days, and waited to head to the airport
for a crazy overnight flight to the Philippines...
Yes, let's!
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