Ho ChI Minh
13th March 2014: Early morning found us gliding slowly up one of the tributaries of the Mekong Delta to the commercial port of Phu My where we docked alongside a very modern port facility with all the tour buses waiting on the quayside in regimented rows according to size, shape and tour.
However, today we had decided to visit a friend working at an International School in Ho Chi Minh city. Unfortunately for us,no taxies were allowed near the ship or in the port area so we had to wait and hitch a ride to the port gates (all 500m) on one of the buses.
Having been dropped amidst the throng of Taxi drivers outside the port gate, waiting around like vultures, they descended on us with smiles and surrounded us like we were carrion. Unfortunately,our Vietnamese was every bit as good as their English so much waving and shouting ensued while we tried to hire a taxi to take us to Ho Chi Minh and back and make sure we a) got back in time for the boat and b) were not sold into slavery.
Finally, after much negotiation, most of it between themselves, one driver was elected to take us away and we climbed aboard his taxi, took one last look at the ship and sped off. Well, sped off is a slight misnomer, as,although the port was modern, the road outside was no more than compacted sand with large potholes which the driver tried his best to avoid by driving first on the left and then on the right while large trucks coming the other way passed on both sides.
Having discovered that the seatbelts did not work my wife still clutched the strap to her breast in the hope that when the inevitable accident occurred this would save her.
Eventually we reached route 51 and turned north and headed for Ho Chi Minh with me following every turn via GPS and my downloaded map app. (MapsWithMe)
The Driving in Vietnam has to be seen to be believed, I’ve now seen it and I still can’t believe it. The average speed of our journey could be no more than 30 or 40 as people would just pull out, switch lanes, turn, or even stop, all without any indication.
Much off the journey was spent with eyes closed praying the rosary, and because of a white knuckle problem, no pictures were taken of our journey there or back.
About halfway to Ho Chi Minh we suddenly turned right, away from the city onto a B or maybe a C road. As the heart rate quickened, we then doubled back onto a brand new motorway where no motorway showed on my new downloaded map. The obvious conclusion must be that this new road had been built since we left the UK. Yes, things happen that fast here.
So having gone from a dust road to a new four lane motorway, imagine my surprise when we crossed the river on a spectacular suspension bridge and then at the end we rolled up to a toll booth.
“Only Two dollar” the Taxi driver said, oh yes, he knew how to say that, and I watched with admiration as the two dollars I gave him changed into Dong as it passed in front of his body when he paid the toll. Worthy of Paul Daniels himself.
So having paid the toll, the road again disappeared into dust! Although it was four lanes of dust with water buffalo wallowing in the pools in the central reservation. Now you don’t get that on the M5 out of Birmingham.
Eventually, we did get to Ho Chi Minh and the School on the outskirts of the city. New buildings and skyscrapers were going up everywhere like all Asian cities, but still, a large majority of the population are very very poor.
As you can gather, we did return safely, although accompanied all the way back by a burning rubber smell. I never found out if it was the car, or just the tyres melting in the heat.
As we sailed away that night back down the river out to sea, Vietnam has to be a country on my return to list.
