Vietnam

My time in Vietnam is a bit of a disaster. I'll get to it in a minute. Firstly I thought I'd take a bit of time thinking about stuff and about me. Ive been on the road now for nine months. Quite unbelievable, I'm so lucky to be doing this!

OK things Ive been thinking about: Tarot cards which were read to me before I left, said that there is a knight in shining armour waiting for me, and its someone I already know?! Well Ive been thinking and I don't bloody know who that could be...? Then Ive just finished reading 100 years of Solitude. Which got me thinking all about South America again. God I miss it and love it. This is all happening while I sit on a bus bound for Ho Chi Minh City or Saigon which I prefer. All sorts of things fly past my window as we travel. Blocks of ice being cut with saws. Bicycles parked outside cafes. Houses on stilts. Families sitting on their outside beds. Gateways to nowhere seem to be quite common here. Large bits of land all unkempt and jungle-like with big rusty gates keeping people out. A remnant of Pol Pot I wonder? Land which was promised, but with no money only gates were ever put up? Gates of deceit. The bus attendant looks like an Asian Yousif. Want a new tattoo. Loved Max's tattoos. I think I want a tiger? Would that be strange? There a whole gang of Germans on the bus and one of them is drinking his water in a most repellent way, I feel sick. I'm missing Sarah so much already, wish she was here to giggle with me. I just left her standing on the street outside our hotel in Phenom Penh. Surreal. Her cashpoint card wasn't working so I lent her some money. Its been quite hard keeping tabs on my spending but again, but there is more to come on this. I'm leaving Cambodia bound for Saigon. The trip wont be that long, six hours. I will be in Saigon later tonight. Not really sure where I'm staying, we'll see what happens. Something smelly is seeping from a carrier bag at the front of the bus right up the aisle, I move my backpack. The air con has started dripping on someone opposite. The bus attendant simply takes the curtain, pulls it over the offending air con nozzles and tucks it into the overhead rack. Genius! We stop to get a boat on the bus, the queue for the crossing is full of minibuses. They are jammed full of people, at least four people sit on each roof too. The road is swarming with hawkers selling green mango with lime and salt, there are baskets on heads full of baguettes and plenty of other snacks which I can't distinguish. We get to the border where we all have to disembark and file though customs. Our passports are given to the bus attendant who goes though each one and checks that we're all accounted for. A bus of about thirtyish persons and would you believe I'm last in the pile. I get to the back of the queue and wait. We all stand in the customs office and wait for our turn. There seems a hierarchy in who gets to go first. Vietnamese men first, then Vietnamese women, then Cambodian men, Cambodian women etc. Europeans are last and I'm the only female European. I'm therefore last again, the lowest of the low. Finally we're in Viet Nam man. Back to roman script. I will miss Cambodian crazy writing. It seems a little more built up and western than Cambodia, which it obviously is. Its dark as we arrive in HCMC. We pass countless street restaurants with people hungrily tucking into steaming bowls of Pho (beef noodle soup). We arrive in the dark on Pham Ngu Lao, which is the centre of the backpacker district. Street hawkers accost us as soon as we step off the bus, offering accommodation. Not really sure where I'm going, but fend off any advances and head down the street. 15 minutes later I'm approached by a young woman who offers me a room for $7 per night; she promises cable TV and hot water. I feel safe and follow her down a tiny alley off the main street. I'm shown to a little home down this lane, and into a room which is the master bedroom of a family house! The family seem really sweet, the room is spotless and has a lovely en-suite, TV and a balcony. Its just started to rain so I say yes. I'm pretty tired so sort myself out and pop out for some food. I find I little restaurant on the main street and sit myself down, order fresh spring rolls and some noodles and watch the world go by. I'm in Sai Gon, Viet Nam.

Back to the room, it's about 11pm and so I have to step over the whole family and a dog who sleep on the floor in the lounge? Interesting?! Once in the room which is up a tiny staircase at the back of the house I lock the door, and then worry for about ten minutes that someone will break into the room during the night. Will I be safe? I settle back on the comfy bed with terry toweling sheets which say 'I love you' all over them, and watch TV, I think I'll be fine. The fan whirs above my head and the bedside light glows red. Its hot and sweaty, I feel like Martin Sheen in the beginning of Apocalypse Now.

There is a huge poster of a Vietnamese bride and her Russian husband on the wall opposite the bed. She's the eldest daughter of the family. The picture is brilliantly photo-shopped and they look flawless. Its totally kitsch and I think I would now do the same, airbrushed wedding shots. The next morning I head out. Oh my god I love the family! They're really sweet. They speak no English so we communicate with sign language and writing things down. I head off to see the War Museum and a few other tourist sites. Outside the Ben Thah market I'm approached by a cyclo driver (tuk tuk cyclist). He shows me his well fingered scrapbook of his tourist trail. I ask how much he charges and hes super friendly and says that I can give him what I want. Hes all smiles and very persuasive. Its bloody hot, I'm not really sure where I'm going, so I decide to take him up on his offer. He cycles me about, and then an hour later delivers me to the War Remnants museum. I agree to meet him outside afterwards. I'm only in the museum for about 45 minutes but when I get out he's buggered off, with annoyingly, my Lonely Planet... I find my own way back to the right bit of town and am annoyed with myself for trusting my book with him. Luckily though I find out from a Canadian girl a week later that part of their scam is that they're all super friendly and cycle you all over. Then they tell you they charge 200.000 Dong an hour and get really nasty if you don't pay them. So in all fairness I escaped with just a missing book. I go to an ATM and withdraw $40, unbeknownst to me my last ATM withdrawal in Vietnam. I accidentally leave my card in the machine. What an idiot. I don't realise until the next day, which is Sunday, so the bank is shut. I have to cancel the card, because I'm not sure where it is. Monday morning I head to the bank and sure enough the card had been swallowed by the machine, drat. Double drat in fact. Now I'm screwed for money. What to do? They'll have to send me a new card from the UK, and then get it sent here. I head to the British Consulate and get coordinates for the card to be sent to. Then I mail home and find out it will take a week for a new card to be issued. I decide that I will go to the beach and just chill there until I have to be back in Saigon to get the card. I jump on a bus to Muine, four hours up the coast. Here I find a hotel which will accepts my credit card and spend a week doing nothing, eating on credit or as cheaply as I can, and work on my tan. There is a little restaurant by the beach which does grilled squid in lemongrass and sweet chili sauce with steamed rice ($2). This is lunch everyday and I still dream of it now. The following weekend I head back into town to wait for my card. When I get back to Saigon I decide to try and find a hotel which accept credit cards. I find one at $10 per night and head to bed. The worst night of my life, dreaded bed bugs again!! I cant sleep. I managed them in Colombia but I was in the jungle. As soon as I can I check out and go and find my nice family from before. Unfortunately their room is let, but friends across the road also have a room above a laundry. Another lovely room and again only $7 per night. I also explain my situation, through their daughter who's about 11, but speaks the best English. They are happy for me to pay then when I get my card. They all rally round and I feel safe looked after. So I'm waiting, stuck in Saigon waiting for this blasted card, with credit card but no cash.

The novelty of my travels has worn off. I hate doing status updates on Facebook. I want to be home. Ive spoken to Ed and he also agrees. Esther get your arse home asap. I still have a little cash left (I exchange 20GBP which Id forgotten I had). So enjoy street food which is super cheap and delicious. Well I regret dinner on two nights which leaves my running to the loo, but it doesn't put me off. I find a little bakery up the road which they sell cheap sandwiches and the best Mango shakes ever. I have a shake for breakfast everyday (50p). There are loads of Russians here and loads of Nigerians too. Unbelievably one evening I'm sitting in an Internet cafe and cant help seeing a Nigerian guy sending one of those dodgy emails about helping to gain access to funds in foreign accounts because of political situations and needing your bank account number etc. He's there for the whole hour I'm there, sending hundreds of emails to databases of people...well I never?! So it's just some guy in an Internet cafe in Saigon doing that? Weird. OK I'm weird, Ive now watched the Bourne Ultimatum five times. I stay in to watch films in HBO or Star films. I have my mango shake, my pho noodles ($2), my bit of time on the Internet, then back to room to either watch TV or read. Sometimes I go and sit in the park and read. Ive walked everywhere too, and tasted nearly all weird and wonderful street foods. My favorite being the food in a plastic bag. Take a small plastic bag and fill it with cut up rice paper, lime juice, chili oil, ground peanuts, sweetened watered-down fish sauce, basil, coriander, chives, deep fried quails eggs, beansprouts. All these ingredients which are in neat little jars on a wooden tray are mixed up in this bag with wooden chopsticks by a woman crouching on the street. Vietnamese knees are incredible. Anyway this food is incredible, I love it. You then head off and munch straight out of the plastic bag with chopsticks, brilliant! Officially 6 or 7 million people live in Saigon. Half of them own a motorbike. During rush hours, streets and avenues in the center of Saigon are flooded with these small motorbikes. Possessing a motorbike is a symbol of status. Many youngsters recognize it would be impossible for them to find a girlfriend without a scooter. The more expensive the bike, the easier it is for them to find a beautiful girl apparently. A typical teenager will pick up his girlfriend a weekend afternoon, take her for a ride, and sit in a park's bench to talk. Public kissing is un polite. The parks around where I stay are full of courting couples sitting on their bikes canoodling. I spend nearly three weeks in Saigon in this mode, still no sign of this card. Mum then decides to send me so cash via Western Union, which saves my life. Lisa puts me in touch with a brilliant friend of a friend, Suzy who takes me out and spoils me. Kareoke night, I do the worst ever rendition of "here I go again on my own", I really can't sing. Strangely though when I do a duet with Suzy we win, with our take on "hungry like a wolf". I do a great day trip out to see the Mekong Delta and meet a cool Canadian girl called Vanessa (of cyclo story earlier). Boris whom I meet at Zoom bar looks after me and takes me out for a wonderful German feast of Wiener schnitzel, spaezle and red cabbage. The Vietnamese waitresses have red checked Dirndl's on! My departure date is looming and still no sign of this card. I give up. I'm going to have to do India with cash. I think I can just about cope with that! Honestly what a polava.

'Is it just me?': or do I spend an inordinate amount of time locking all my valuables into my backpack with a combination lock, only to realise that in fact I need, my passport, or card, or something. Or that Ive forgotten to lock something away. So I have to un lock it and then re lock it, this process can happen up to four times before I can leave. Hopeless. Is this a form of OCD?

Miss everyone like hell xxxx

I love my friends sooooo much x