Vietnam - The Brutal
Odyssey of Napalmdog and Alicat
May 5, 2002
by
Pendragon
Trekking through
lawless Vietnam, a savage adventure wrought with overtones of consumer frenzy
[Author's
Note: This story is taken from notes written as it happened. I make no apologies
for lack of flow and the poor grammar (She’s an English Teacher?) in advance...it's
a play by play, day by day....]
December 2, 2001
The adventure begins
from Pusan through Seoul, then 5 hours to Ho Chi Minh City. Our spirits are high,
but our patience tested as our flight is delayed by some passengers who decided
not to board the Boeing Behemoth and the ground crew must dutifully unload all
of their luggage from the bowels of our aeroplane. (Mental note: fashion voodoo
effigies of said passengers with the sludge I'll be rationed in flight....)
My innate fears are bolstered
by the too chipper flight attendant's safety instructions and her request for
us to "Please endure your flight". At this point, the usual preflight rundown
should be..."Please remember to inflate your condemned life vest in front of the
emergency door by pulling the tabs. If that doesn't work, run in circles screaming,
or simply blow in these tubes and pray to the appropriate deity of your choice.
Please fasten your seatbelts in case the craft should slam into an unchartered
mountain or other renegade aircraft. These will ensure you will be neatly trapped
in the ensuing fiery melee and not hinder the pandemonium of fellow passengers
who like you have a million to one survival rate if such an event should occur.
(The dialogue has picked up dramatically at this point...)
2,216
miles (3568 km) to go. Climb the wall you allowed to be built. Space Liquidators.
Luxury rides the back of sacrifice.
A woman neglects to notice
2 vital details. The aeroplane has taxied to pole position, and the turbines are
revving. Her 2-year-old daughter is standing in the aisle picking her nose and
looking at me. The doting matriarch then nearly croaks the urchin with a cranium
crushing blow that will surely subdue the unfortunate rapscallion for the next
five hours in flight. Well, at least the kid won't keep me awake...(kidding folks...I'm
not that cold...)
"Sky Pass members are especially welcomed"
but the rest of you are doomed to receive the most icy and discombobulative service
we can muster. My travelling companion, Alison aka Alicat, wields a Motorola and
threatens to complain immediately to the powers that be. My brain reels with fear.
I speak gently..."just turn off the phone, there there, turn it off...." Just
what have I committed myself to? A madhouse with a madwoman. Yes, a madhouse careening
at 819 mph somewhere over the East China Sea. Of course, It's too dark to see
any spy planes however; sheesh, what a rip off, not even a military escort...
Sowing
seeds of redemption. Nuclear ambitions....
Today's "swine dine"
over Shanghai includes: mechanically separated chicken parts with genetically
altered red and green peppers and one sad excuse for a cherry tomato. (No waxy
finish...) Rice and fish chunklets, something that should be a roll, but tastes
like chalk, and a plastic glass of Korean Bordeaux. Oh happy day...they have Guinness
in the can!!! Screw the meal, floating widgets will fill the gap....
The
scientist who created my companion's flesh eater meal should be charged with no
less than cruel and unusual. May Allah be merciful...
And it
appears that He is not. The T.V. screen shows us flying near Kabul? Have the Guinesses
gone to my head? Has last evening's drunken cavorting come back to haunt me? Oh
happy day, it's only CNN. Well then what's our progress dammit? Maybe I should
take my plastic knife and stainless steel fork to the cockpit and demand answers
in the name of, in the name of....fuck it...time to get in touch with my liver
while quaffing another fine Irish barley sandwich.
Waving a hearty
Ni Hao over Jiaxing, China at a cool cruising altitude of 31,500 feet.
Alicat has decided that our duty as emergency helpers (the joy of an exit seat)
has been kiboshed by high altitude and equally high spirits. Spirits as in free
beer and Bordeaux...Damn, this place is a virtual sauna. My thoughtful companion
senses my discomfort and offers to open the door. I've got the damn belt on, but
I think I'm getting the Fear. (Suspicious sideways glances to my right...(seat
48H) "Don't you trust me?" she asks. I attempt to pump out one of my usual witticisms,
but I choke on the cigarette I've had visions of smoking for the last 3 hours.
She buries her beak into an overpriced Incheon Airport paperback and pretends
to be unfettered. But she knows I'm onto her.
Eagles may soar,
but weasels don't get caught in jet engines...
Well, 5 turbulent
hours have come to pass. We make our descent at 11 p.m. GMT +0700. Hours of seat
kicking, screaming, and unattended children are now temporarily forgotten. But
oh, what lies beyond the starting gate?? My hope is searing spring rolls, but
accommodation is a must at this point. And so we begin to follow the Ho Chi Minh
Trail....
1:30 A.M. Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). We found a dorm
style hotel for $8 US/night. Rule #5 of the hotel's regulations state no bringing
prostitutes to the hotel room. I'm sure my travelling companion and I will follow
their rules to the letter. Using the toilet at the airport we were greeted by
the largest roach I've seen since Jamaica. Leaving the terminal we were surrounded
by teeming throngs of cabbies, cyclo (pedicab) drivers, and Hondaboys. We took
a taxi for $5. It took us close but not close enough to the hotel strip. We broke
out the "Planets" (Lonely Planet) and walked nimbly amongst the sewer rats through
what I hope was the seedy part of town. We were tailed for an hour by a cyclo
guy who wouldn't take 30 no's as our final answer.
My companion
is now dead to the world while I consider stretchy things to battle the economy
class syndrome in the form of swollen, itchy ankles. (Note: on the walk, lots
of all night bars and other such establishments...and a KFC of all things. Maybe
Murder King lives here too. Rest now...)
December 3, 2001
Good Morning Viet Nam! My kindly comrade let me sleep in. I woke
around 9 and we ventured out into the brutal humidity of the day. We acquired
$200 US worth of Vietnamese Dong. (NVD) I'm packing several million now, my wallet
will not close...I'm sure a meal ticket temptation to the myriad of shoeless urchins
holding bowls in my face while I'm measured for tailor made silk pants. (Feeling
like the hangdog now...)
Cyclo men sat with us while we dined
on the street eating something made with rice, vegetables and meat I've never
tasted, and didn't finish. They wouldn't tell us what it was...could be cat, could
be cobra for all I know. We'll eat at a restaurant later, guaranteeing our culinary
safety for the time being. My comrade thinks spring rolls are the ticket...no
need to tell me twice.
We've come for a pit stop at the Trung
Nguyen Ca Phe for an Arabic Roast...closer to caffeine concentrate. My teeth are
numb and stained permanently I fear...different...and threatening to those of
us with addictive personalities and a penchant for all vices deemed legal. Now
off to the market.
Back in the hotel room after a long walkabout.
We embarked on a cyclo ride to the Jade Pagoda. The drivers quoted d20,000, but
then tried to charge us 10x the price. However Ali's driver made the mistake of
writing the price on her hand...so, har har, we vanquished them. Picked up some
souvenir-ish stuff on our walking tour, and gifts for the comrades in Korea and
Canada. Stumbled upon the Hard Rock Cafe after a stop at Baskin Robbins (?). We
met a couple of Surrey girls, Michelle and another Alison. Verrry chatty and rightfully
so after a magnum of cheap wine. I quaffed a Tiger and Alison her usual Bordeaux.
I listened attentively (well, tried to look attentive) to Michelle, hairdresser
to the stars, banter away for well, eternity. Interestingly she said to us..."Please
don't categorize me." Funny, because there is no category for her. Not quite priggish,
not quite "dumb blonde". London Lush is as close as I can get. After breaking
free from the claws of happy go lucky, we walked around in search of a cyclo.
Murphy's Law ensures that when indeed your feet hurt and you have a pool of sweat
2 inches deep between your itchy breasts, not one is to be found. One swankety
swank hotel had a sign written in Vietnamese that appeared to state "Chaos Waiting"
as the stripper lights circled around it. Alluring....I like it.
Choke
on this....that first dish we ate this morning...well I guess the English speaking
server called it Chien Chen (not pronounced how it's spelled). Anyway, you guessed
it...Filet of Fido. Fuck. A whole year in Korea without a single spoonful of BoShin
Tong (Dog Soup) and we get hit with it the first frikken day!!! Wow...or should
I say Bow Wow?
Sinh Restaurant...Pineapple and coconut milkshakes
and springroll city!! Foreign travellers with gigantasaur travel packs lounge
about in a puff of Marlboro madness and Heineken decompression. Alicat's vegetable
noodle soup emanates the most mouthwatering smell, and I've been presented with
veggies and rice begging to be ravaged in the in the most savage sense this hunger
pleads for.
Ahhh, finished...although the spring rolls were
a bitter disappointment...they were definitely processed for vegetarian needs,
but by no means manufactured for culinary satisfaction. The pineapple milkshake
was the cat's ass however. Now to pay our d40,000 and get some potable water.
Went
to pick up the silk pants, mine are pretty swank but Alicat's were a little too
tight. Had a jazzmatazz shower scraping the layers of sweat, dust and smog from
just about every possible nook and cranny in my 2000 parts. Now to baste myself
in the new tub of Tiger balm. So ends another day of consumer frenzy. Tomorrow,
we will take a bus to the Me Kong Delta first thing. Now to retire in my communist
T-shirt while I read about post-WWII intellectualism. I stare at the ceiling and
realize I'm sleeping within a sky blue trapezoid, complete with the retro velvet
portrait of galloping Clydesdales any Budwieser drinker would likely trade a 12
pack for....
December 4, 2001
Asphalt
Sociopaths...
Alicat's 35th Birthday today!! Oh happy day, with
a stroke of luck we meet a very nice and extremely good looking Spanish God named
Ibon. We are on a minibus to connect with our tourbus to the Delta. Our guide
quells our fears and reassures us all is well. His good intentions are countered
by his explanation of the Vietnamese road rules otherwise known herein as Asphalt
Sociopathics. "See that traffic light over there, actually, it's just there for
fun".
We've stopped for lunch on Phoenix Island after a Me Kong
ferry and canoe trip through the sinister shade of the palms. After a solid vow
to cease my penchants for consumerism, I purchased a rad ass bamboo xylophone
for about 5 bones. Ate some fruit, drank some tea, chased a few giant butterflies.
Otherwise basking in the glory of coconut culture. Ahhhh, now time for some downtime
ala hammock...
My Tho-Tien Giang Province
My Tho, the poorest city in the Mekong Delta, otherwise known as
the Agent Orange Theme Park.
Eating dinner after a long search
for food....surprisingly few restaurants. I'm having Ban Xeo (pancake) and Goi
Cuon (fresh spring rolls). Alison too, although sadly nothing in this city resembles
a birthday cake here.
Well after a leisurely dinner with the
locals we're done for the day. A cool refreshing shower and now to dine on some
of the coconut candy from Dragon Island. Way too addictive...who needs opium.
The boat tour today was pretty cool. Man, that palm tree ceiling, the occasional
banter of birds and gaping geckos. We chanced upon a plethora of stone sarcophagi
along the paths, sides of the road, in the rice fields and even as a novelty item
off the front porch. Lack of war leaves more of the living to other perilous ends.
Apparently, these unfortunate souls who haven't split their heads open crashing
a Honda end up suffering a most unusual "never saw that one coming" death. Falling
coconuts. What to do...? Should I look up to avoid death from above or look down
to circumnavigate cranky cobras. I've decided to stare straight ahead and appear
as if I have a clue.
We said goodbye to Mr. Wonderful, Ibon
of Spain. (a mist comes to my eyes....could be the dust...) Alicat is reflecting
on the true meaning of being 35...the reality hasn't hit her yet. Or at least
it didn't until Spanish Hottie told us he was only 23. I could see the pain on
her brow as she realized the kid she babysat when she was 12, is the same age
as our Euro Hero. She's consoling herself with writing about her tailor made pants
and making up tongue twisters. Bum crack creep, bum crack creep, bum crack creep....(Note:
before her pants were altered one more time, they were a little uh, creepy)
Odd
that I hadn't noticed the sun sets around 5:30 here. Our current location is 106.5E/10.3N
putting us about 300 km from the equator. Hoo boy, its hhhhhoooottt and humid!
Our rhomboid room complete with air conditioner, ants and a multitude of lingering
lizards. Last note...the people of My Tho are warm and friendly. They have all
gone out of their way to smile, wave, nod and say hello. Unlike Saigon, these
people are the poorest of the poor, yet even the street merchants, cyclo guys
and the odd beggar didn't really bother us. (aside from the guys offering boat
tours) As I've said, My Tho is the poorest town on the Delta. Indeed what little
infrastructure there is looks as if an F-16 dropped a payload of Napalm death
just last week. The merchants and locals seemed rather surprised to see a couple
of 3W's (Western White Women) checking out their scene. In fact we saw no travelers
except near the hotel where those boat launches are. Though not a place for those
with a liking of all things aesthetic, it holds a quaint but riveting reality
of what it means to be poor in Viet Nam.
December 5, 2001
The brutal day has begun with yet another change in plans. We are
now on a very dusty road on an equally dusty bus heading (God willing) to Vinh
Long. As it turns out there are no ferries from My Tho and private launches are
way way expensive, not to mention life threatening. My companion detests our sarcophagus
on wheels. Zero leg room and no air conditioning. Scratch that; we do have open
windows that allow for all the dust and sniffs to be smelled. But I ask what can
you expect for 75 cents....aside from a chocolate bar...not much. (Note: a word
to the wise for communist travel...NEVER trust anything with dingle balls and
religious figures such as neon Buddhas. Actually here, that means never trust
anything...)
This has been the most spine crushing tooth smashing
lesson in true grit to be discovered within Indochina today. It seems the bus
doesn't go straight into Vinh Long. Instead my comrade and I have been dropped
into some hole called An Huu. We've taken a break after about a kilometre of pavement
hiking while fending off the Hondaboys. A warm orange Fanta to drink as we McGyver
a game plan. Lack of cyclos means we'll have to cling precariously to the sides
of a motorcycle. Not a great idea considering all the gear we're carrying front
and back. My companion is now dining on noodle soup but I'll keep the baguette
I bought in My Tho handy for my own herbivore needs later. Somehow we've moved
ourselves from Sunday Bloody Sunday in downtown Saigon to a bad Vietnamese rendition
of "What is Love (Baby don't hurt me)"
After walking a couple
of clicks, we managed to haggle a ride on a minibus which dropped us in Vinh Long
although we had to double back a bit in a cyclo. The dude said d15,000, but we
gave him 20k because he hauled both our sorry asses and all our gear all the way
to the strip in that sun. We arrived to find one very pricey hotel and one I'm
sure it harbours all kinds of exotic fauna. We walked around and found one further
back for d150,000 and the room is pretty swank, although the spiders on the ceiling
are silently menacing.
My companion is in the shower while I
nurse my right foot - I'm in limp mode - lots of
foot miles the last few days. It didn't help when I gave it a bone crushing whack
on the bedpost after opening the fancy smancy colonial curtains. Thinking about
a shower, I've had a waterfall between my tits for oh about 6 hours. I won't even
get into the backside situation. Vinh Long means R&R for me at this point.
I'll get the energy to venture out for vittles and potable inebriants eventually.
Back to Hotel Hoity Toity after a market visit. We sipped coffee
with condensed milk by the waterfront (Co Chien River - a Me Kong
tributary) I then attempted to look for palatable victuals by doubling back and
finding a place that served rice and veggies. I'm having trouble suiting my vegetarian
and particularly crustacean-free tastes. Most proprietors won't accommodate me
and simply don't understand my allergies. R&R now; a bus to Sa Dec tomorrow.
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