Saigon is an assault to the senses. There is an incessant din of honking horns, rumbling trucks, puttering motor scooters, smog thickened humidity, aromatic foods, charcoal fires, incense, and hidden garbage. The sidewalks are filled with Vendors creating and selling everything imaginable. At night the city lights up with color. One can’t help but be swept up in the energy. The city felt safe.
The architecture is hodgepodge and indicative of the city’s history. It’s not uncommon to see a row of buildings with a tall skinny house from the French occupation era beside a 70s building followed by a dilapidated brick structure. The city is divided into Districts, each sporting its own personality. It is not hard to navigate on foot, although locals far prefer the speed and efficiency of motor scooters (Motos). Many wear face masks to protect from polluted air. It is clear these masks can be used as a playful fashion statements.
There are hidden jewels in every big city. Unearthing those jewels can be an exciting part of travel adventure.
While wandering Saigon one evening, Conde noticed an innocuous building. “Let’s go in!” he declared. I followed into a greasy, dank and poorly lit Moto parking garage. After passing through we discovered an elevator along side a grungy tiled curved stairwell. A small group of well-dressed young Vietnamese was waiting for the elevator; another group filing up the stairs. We joined the elevator queue. The door slid open and a full load piled out. The operator was charging 3,000 VND (approx. 15 cents) for a ride up.
Since we had no clue where we were headed, we opted for the stairs. Each floor revealed a handful of shops, restaurants and other businesses run by enthusiastic young entrepreneurial Vietnamese. We sat down at a cute restaurant airing a fun playlist called The Maker (the restaurant, not the play list). Great salads with a nice Vietnamese twist and decent beer selection. And perfect wifi reception.
In spite of being American Geezers, we were truly welcomed. A later internet search showed the building was one of the hippest new retail spots in District 1 for upstarts.
The Road to Can Tho
The only way to rent a car in Vietnam is with a driver. With the crazy maniacal “flow” of traffic, this is a very logical rule. We had planned to rent a private car for travel south from Saigon to the Mekong Delta. Lonely Planet says this can be found for $75 US per day. Our search failed to unearth this option. There were cars with drivers, but at triple the cost. We decided to take the bus from Saigon to Can Tho.
Lonely Planet advises the choice for bus travel is Futa Buslines. We popped into a local travel agency to inquire. We learned buses ran every hour from Saigon to Can Tho. A 3 hour ride. The nice travel agency lady wrote down an address. We figured it was the bus station. After a leisurely breakfast the following day we took a cab to the noted destination, a Futa office. Turned out you could neither buy a bus ticket there nor could you catch a bus from that location. Never did figure out what service was provided there. The clerk instructed that we us go to the bus station. She furnished a pre-printed list of addresses with pertinent information highlighted in yellow. I asked for directions to the bus station. “Too far to walk,” she said. There was a line of Futa owned cabs outside. I handed the driver my highlighted paper. We had a fun, albeit unexpected, cab tour to the other side of town where we were delivered to a small Futa station.
I went inside and learned that for 220,000VND (approx. $10 US for both) and a 10 minutes wait we would be on our way to Can Tho. I paid up. A mini van promptly arrived. We loaded, along with 11 other passengers, for the trip to Can Tho. So we thought. It turned out this was a shuttle to the main Futa bus station. As the van unloaded I asked the driver, where to now? “Go inside,” he replied with a broad gesture toward the station. It was large adorned with multiple departure and arrival boards. Our untrained eyes couldn’t figure it out. The PA announcements didn’t help either. Not to be deterred we exited the station and marched up and down a long line of diesel huffing busses, luggage in tow. (Did I mention I failed in my resolve to pack lightly? Well, I did. Notice how I buried this confession?)
We found a bus marked Can Tho and showed an agent our tickets. He gave a perfunctory, almost imperceptible, nod. We trotted along side as the bus edged forward each time the bus at the front of the line departed. I stuck close. This geezer wasn’t getting left behind! During a brief pause in forward momentum the agent took our luggage and stowed it in the underneath compartment. He made copious notes on my ticket, so I figured all was good here. Still, we trotted along every time the bus moved forward.
When we boarded we were told to sit in 4A and 4C. Okay, got it. Just as I was turning to walk down the aisle the official firmly grabbed my wrist. I stopped. The driver was holding open a black plastic sack and the agent pointed to my feet. But of course. They need me to take off my shoes and stow them in the black bag. Done!
The bus had two tiers of seats. Much like bunk beds. Each seat resembled a soap box race car. I settled into the 4A lower tier. Nope. The official ordered me “Top! Top!” his patience clearly being tried. I smiled nicely and used my best monkey skills to climb to the top tier.
Halfway to Can Tho we stopped at a huge warehouse, clearly owned by Futa, for refreshments and a toilet break. As we filed off the bus, we were instructed to don green and orange flip flops dumped on the ground from a laundry basket. The inner child in me delighted as I slipped into a mismatched pair several sizes too big and clomped about the warehouse. I tried hard not to imagine who had proceeded me in these shoes.
We now know the system for bus travel in Vietnam. We arrived in Can Tho safe and sound. What a great city!
Did you Know?
In the Mekong Delta Vietnam it is common to inter your dead in an above ground shrine located in your home’s rice paddy or garden area. Many are very elaborate. Birth dates in Vietnam are not important. Death date is very important. When a baby is born in Vietnam, it is automatically one year old. Each year on Tet (Vietnamese new year) another year is added. If Tet falls on February 16th and a baby is born on February 15th, the baby turns two the day after birth. Every year a large family celebration is held on the date of death of each relative. If the person was very old when they died, a bamboo stick is placed on the grave site. This can serve as a cane for the elderly dead to use for making it back to the house to join in the celebration.
Next stop, Can Tho
For all You Geezers on the Go, Keep On Keeping On!
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