Explore bustling Sai Gon
On our latest train we noted that the Blue Sky completely
ripped us off. Citing yesterday's celebrations as a reason that
they had to buy our ticket on the black market, they got us hard
sleepers instead of soft. When we broached the subject of the
price on the tickets being less than a fraction of what we paid
the best our flustered host would do was offer us a taxi ride to
the station. Then he goes off-shift and the next guy denies all
knowledge. Perfect. Did I mention I hate these people?
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Sam threw a plastic chair in his frustration. The guy flipped!
We literally sat at the train station waiting to be stabbed.
Until we got on the train. Then we wished we'd had been.
The next day started with the train. Yesterday never really
ended, we did not sleep. Hard sleeper, you see, is the same as a
soft just without a mattress. And an extra two beds in the exact
same size room. We are in the God damn middle ones. Snoring
Vietnamese above us, phone chatting ones below us. Has no-one
explained they have speakers in them? This room stinks. It was
Hayley could do not to cry. Our bags on 2 feet wide beds. No
sleep.
We arrived at 5.30am which would usually warrant some sort of
sarcastic comment, but when you don't sleep what the fr*g does
it matter? We arrived in
Sai Gon, but whilst we were there it
changed its name. Forever more Ho Chi Minh City. As a foursome
we caught a cab to Pham Ngu Lao in the knowledge it is
considered the main backpacker area. That usually translates to
sh*thole; and wasn't far off.
Ho
Chi Minh city is busy. Busy like a payroll clerk on the 22nd of the month
not busy like a coke-snorting Investment banker in
Hanoi. The
mopeds are fewer and farther between most likely because its
that much further away from China and their £200,
let's-not-bother-with-the-safety-stuff deathtraps. We had enough
time to walk the street, one block over from where all of the
other guesthouses were. One entrepreneurial, and let's be honest
committed to the cause it's 6am, old lady spotted our
predicament with no guesthouses being open. We brushed her off
but she had attached an invisible hook attached to us. With the
first two places shut we had to admit defeat. We were just so
fr*gg*n' tired...
Hau, the guesthouse, was not clean. Black lights do not exist in Vietnam, for some things we must give praise. We slept until
lunch.
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At our awakening we decided that a day was enough in HCMC and we
would hightail it out of there on the morrow. That left an
afternoon to fill with limited touristic opportunity. I dragged
Hayley to the War Remnants Museum, but not before yet another
magical mystery tour of miserable map-reading. I swear I am
better without the bloody things. Several arguments and a market
place with unusual fruits that wouldn't have looked out of place
in a sexshop later we bit the bullet (possibly inappropriate
terminology here?) and caught a cab. It turned around on a four
lane street and pulled up on the other side of the road with a
punctured tyre. Time to get out. The driver pointed to the
meter! 10,000 Dong! For turning round! Cheeky b*st*rd! What did
we do? We absolutely told him to "f**k off". And then walked
very quickly.
Somehow the adrenaline of waiting for a disgruntled cabbie to
put a hatchet in our backs over the price of a Coca-Cola drove
us to the museum in quick time. The War Remnants Museum has
changed names more times than the St. Louis Rams, most notably
in 1995 when America and Vietnam opened arms to each other and
had a big hug. I much preferred the original name - "US Army
Crime Exhibition House". Much catchier.
The book cover may have changed but it's still the same words
inside. After the prisons in Hanoi we didn't expect much more
than a complete and utter brainwash. More one-sided than a
circle. Or when the British used to wage war in Africa. Either
way it was compelling. Not your 'let's watch the prisoners play
volleyball and hold guns against their heads until they smile'
propaganda but constitutional quotes and war commission
findings. It's a pity my opinion of the Vietnamese is so soured
or it might mean something.
Continuously trying to rip you off or not continuously trying to
rip you off, what the Vietnamese wnet through was horrific. Even
the worst people don't deserve Agent Orange. Mangled children is
most definitely an indictment on the Yanks. There are too many
photos for there not to be some truth in the Vietnamese
assertions. The one thing that did slightly p*ss me off was how
the treatment of women was portrayed. The 'how dare you kill
women, America?' attitude is pretty redundant next to photos of
lady snipers.
In the evening we went to a free cinema and watched The Other
Guys with sh*t subtitles.
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►►► Ethnic travel Vietnam
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