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Well it's been a little while since I've written anything - being in Africa was strangely disconnecting (no power, phones or water on some days, and no broadband at all!). I've made some notes, though, so will try to respospectively post some thoughts.
Anyway, on to the present - so after a couple of days acclimatising to Asia in Singapore, it was north to Vietnam. The planning, as always, was possibly a little bit short-horizon; we rang round in a slightly frenzied state the day before arrival - trying to get a hotel, and having spectacularly failed to take into account that we were arriving on Tet (Vietnamese New Year, and the mother of all parties - where basically everyone goes to Saigon) and so probably should have booked in advance.
Obviously the upcoming Year of the Rat will be a lucky one, though, because someone was smiling down on us, and we managed to get a room at a place called the Bong Sen (thanks Zorba).
The flight from Singapore was a quick two hours, and before we knew it we'd landed in Ho Chi Minh City (although almost everybody we've met still calls it Saigon). One minor wobble at customs, where I realised I'd forgotten or lost my visa photos. Luckily one of the enterprising customs officers had an entrepreneurial bent and a Poloroid camera, so four dollars later, and we were out into the heat and humidity of the city ... straight into the arms of a taxi driver that saw us coming a mile away, and charged us three times the going rate for the trip to our hotel. Aaarrrgh! Anyway, I suppose that's one way to learn a necessary lesson, because almost everyone is on the make here. They are such nice people, though, that it takes a lot of the edge off being fleeced.
The ride in from the airport was a total sensory overload. This place is sooo different to Singapore it's almost impossible to describe - but the first thing that hits you is the number of scooters on the roads, and the second is the number of people crammed onto each scooter. The rules of the road appear to be less rules than guidelines - and only to be followed in the absence of anything more convenient or interesting! The Singaporean Traffice Police, so ready to pounce on delinquent jaywalkers or gum chewers back home, would probably last about five minutes in Saigon before having a total breakdown!
I don't know what the designers of the Piaggio Vespa or Yahama Future were thinking exactly when they drew up plans for their 100cc twist-and-go scooters, but I bet they'd be amazed at the use they're put to by the Vietnamese. It's totally common to have a family of four on a bike - Mum, Dad, two kids (no helmets), and somtimes a baby over Mum's shoulder and a small dog on the floorwell for good measure. As we'd arrived on New Year's eve, about 1 in 10 bikes were also transporting large potted apricot trees (about 4-5 foot in height) - which are considered an auspicious symbol for dwellings and businesses. Oh - did I also mention its considered polite to hoot continuously when driving - a bike or car - just so everyone knows where you are.
Slightly stunned by all the noise and activity, we pulled into the hotel and tried to check-in. There was some confusion with the booking, and at that point the receptionist picked up the phone, pressed a button and said "Please, telephone for you". I turned to the receiver she'd pointed out with a bit of trepidation - wondering if she was too embarrased to tell me they'd lost the booking in person, and was planning to tell me over the telephone to save face. "Hello?". "Hello," replied a voice. "This is Immigration Department at Airport". "Oh @!%$!," I said. I don't really know what I expected, but had vague ideas of my Greek passport being suddenly unacceptable in Vietnam, angry officials cutting it up, and me spending the next few days in a blue jumpsuit in Saigon prison, learning revolutionary songs and stamping license plates while waiting for the Greek Embassy to pick up their phone messages (assuming from past dealings, that they'd do this about once a week).
Needless to say I was gettng a little ahead of myself. "I gave you the wrong receipt, belongs to someone else" she said. "Oh. That's no problem," I replied - apparently failing to understand that the Socialist Republic of Vietnam take their paperwork very seriously. After setting me straight on that score, officer Lin then asked if she could come around at 9PM, after work, to present me with the correct receipt. We agreed, dropped off our bags, and wandered out into the hustle of District 1, feeling slightly as if we were in a David Lynch movie.
We ate at a small restaurant called Lemongrass. I'm not sure exactly what all the dishes were - we just asked the owner to pick for us - but the food was absolutedly fantastic, and we washed it down with a couple of local beers (bia hoi) before wandering the streets a bit more. Flowers and fruit trees covered the main promenade - in readiness for the new year. Traders were also setting up altars outside their businesses and restaurants - incense and offerings of food and drink to see in the year of the Rat. We made it back to the hotel just in time to meet officer Lin - who pulled up in civilian gear on a pink scooter, looking 10 years younger and a lot happier than the stern uniformed officer who'd processed us at the airport ... she taught me my first bit of Vietnamese - how to say Happy New Year (Chuc Mung Nam Moi) - and roared off the wrong way down a one way street, in the direction of the watefront, which was already beginning to fill up.
We walkd out into the street just before midnight, and down onto the promenade. It's really difficuly to explain what one million scooter riders with twitchy hooter fingers sound like, when they're crammed into a small city center, but believe me - it's relentless. Having said that, although over a million people were driving in thick traffice jams on roads and pavements, there was absolutely no aggro - and pedestriatians (us included) just wove in and out of the traffice in a strange soft of slow-motion shuffle - trying to jostle for a good vantage point.
Non-official fireworks have been banned in Saigon for a few years, but at the stroke of midnight the City's organisers let rip with a huge display that went on for ten or fifteen minutes and lit up the whole sky. It was spectacular, and afterwards we wound out way back to the hotel past a parade of revellers, dragon dancers, and the same million bikers going slowly (and amazingly, politely) back they way they'd arrived. Flopped into bed at about 1:30 with ringing heads ... what a hello to Vietnam!
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