For so long I'd dreamed of going to Vietnam. After years of studying the American War and watching countless films and documentaries on the horrors that took place there I couldn't contain myself with excitement as we rode our way across the border, shaking the hand of the border guard in green military drab as we passed.
The last road post in Cambodia before we crossed into Vietnam
Immediately we passed Two Million Dollar Hill, a site where American B52s dropped millions of dollars worth of bombs to no success on South Vietnamese communist guerrillas. I was all caught up in the imagery and terrible romance of it all - choppers flying low over brown rivers, rock music blaring, Coca-Cola flung around by GIs like currency. The history has quite some colour to me.
A typical dinner spot
The first night we stayed in a small place called Chau Doc, a riverside town used for locals and tourists alike to catch a river boat from Vietnam to Cambodia. We had our first Banh Mi (baguette, egg, veges and often pork), courtesy of years of French Colonialism and fine Vietnamese culinary skills. I was expecting the next day to be something special - a beautiful ride on a road that snaked its way around the Mekong River, a small hamlet here and there, and many opportunities for photos. I woke up spaced out with a headache and nauseous stomach. Trucks passed unnervingly close and every single vehicle offered nothing but indiscriminate use of the horn. The trucks and buses had horns often so loud as to leave ears ringing. It was actually quite enraging and worse than that in Java. We had 120kms on the agenda to get to Can Tho, the largest city on the Mekong River in Vietnam. I was excited to see it. The road was horrible. The river was scarcely in sight and the road was littered with semi industrial buildings for every step of the 120kms. It was an awful grey day as well and I was feeling like fainting for most of the ride. Welcome to Vietnam!
Can Tho itself was nice. We got up at 4am to do a river cruise and check out the floating markets. The markets were a waste of time as we had a guide who spoke no english and the market only offered produce to locals. No chance to taste some of the local cuisine. The boat did move into some of the smaller tributaries of the Mekong and we found ourselves heading up river in a very Apocalypse Now setting. That made me happy. It was in rivers like the one we were in Vietcong insurgency was at its highest and the delta was the most hard fought area. 70 years ago American Patrol Boats cruised these rivers, blasting music and anything living in sight. Shocking behaviour.
Dawn over the Mekong River
Selling produce at the floating market
Fishing in what was a very dirty river
Going up river - one of the many arms of the Mekong River. It had a very Apocalypse Now feel but as you can see it was absolutely filthy. The propeller got jammed no less than 10 times with plastic that was then dropped right back in the river
We rode only 45kms that day to Vinh Long as we were fairly zonked from the morning on the river. Vinh Long had a fantastic local market with amazing Banh Mi, fried bread, fruit, and noodle soup (Pho Bo). The next day we rode to My Tho. The ride was a significant improvement on the previous days which had been grey, boring, and through predominantly industrial land. We rode 4kms before crossing the river on our first ferry. Being part of the main road the ferrys were frequent and cheap. We rode another 25kms before another ferry crossing. Finally we crossed the Mekong on one of the amazing suspension bridges built with the aid of Japan, a close economic partner, and arrived in My Tho. Again I was excited as My Tho was the heart of the US led counterinsurgency program in the Delta. There were no signs of any of this history but only of a country thriving on the back of booming tourism and exports.
One of the many huge bridges that spanned the Mekong
I was, for some reason, concerned about the ride into Saigon. We had ridden into Bangkok for Gods sake I had no reason to fear another large city. There is just something about the terrible driving here that struck fear into my heart. The day started well with us opting for the main Highway 1A instead of the back road - the back road was dirt and heavily potholed. The noise was immense. It was as close as I could imagine going to war. Roaring trucks, dirt flung onto our faces, the blast of air horns that left the ears ringing, and a whole lot of being shaken to pieces on poor roads. After a few hours we were right on the outskirts. I was navigating and we took a right turn onto what looked like a very busy motorway and the traffic disappeared. We found ourselves on a large multi lane expressway with no vehicles and a lane for scooters/bikes. It got a bit busier as the Bitexco Tower came into view but it was nothing like riding into Bangkok. We immediately found a hotel near the main tourist area and checked in, bikes locked downstairs.
It was an amazing experience riding into Vietnam. I was in a bad space for our time in the Delta being horribly sick and trying to ride through rain and grey skies. Saigon immediately looked better however and filled me with excitement for the rest of the country.
Dusty and a bit tired - a few kms short of our hotel in Saigon
The next few days we spent walking the streets of Saigon. We visited the Ben Tanh Markets, the Reunification Palace which was once home to the Dinh Diems and their tyrannical rule of South Vietnam, the War Remnants Museum and the statue of Ho Chi Minh on the central boulevard in front of the town hall. After Arthur's handlebars broke in Phnom Penh we ordered ahead and Surly (the brand of bike we ride) very kindly offered to fly the replacement bars in from Taiwan at no cost to us. The only problem was getting them through customs. They were held up and we spend days waiting and waiting for them to get through. After 4 days with no certain end date Arthur and I cycled to the dealer in Saigon to see if there was anything they could do to help. They tried with all the bars they had in the shop but none fitted. The owner of Saigon Cycles worked tirelessly with his team to pull strings and have a set of bars by the next day at 7pm. Arthur and I got on our bikes and cycled through the city in the darkness through mad traffic to pick up his bike and be on our way. It was an amazing feeling having the bike back and in good working order. Our tyres had completely worn through the tread after 5,500kms so we picked up some new touring tyres as well.
Red till dead on the eve of the New Zealand election
During our time in the city we met Curt, an Englishman who worked in NZ as a tour guide for Hobbiton. He kept us sane with his immensely positive vibes and good attitude. We played countless games of pool and enjoyed many roadside beers with him while we waited for the bikes to be fixed.
An iced coffee with our mate Curt
Wriggling into one of the genuine, un widened tunnels. I could just fit in and close the lid but there was no way I could maneuver to get down the tunnel itself. It was far too tight
Sean, luscious blond locks flowing in the wind, braved the scooters. The Bitexco Tower is in the background
One of our favourite discoveries from the trip - avocado, coconut, and condensed milk smoothies
An epic vegetarian noodle soup. This option is very rare over here where meat is so important to cuisine and culture
Our time in Saigon was amazing. The city really is a living insight to the history of the country. The French Colonialism, the horrors of the wars that lasted from 1939-1975 and the proud nationalist sentiment following the reunification at the end of the conflict. I absolutely loved the city but was most glad to be getting back on the bike and heading up the country. Little did we know we had two of the hardest days ahead of us to get to Mui Ne.
The French left their mark on the place
The obligatory monument shot in front of Ho Chi Minh
