Vietnam - the Mekong Delta

I had grandiose visions of what the Mekong Delta was. I imagined Luke Nguyen cooking in a little boat in the water amidst misty, giant limestone mounds (that was probably a leftover image from Halong Bay…). I imagined orchard upon orchard of beautiful tropical fruit. The tours sell the idea of coconut candy and rice noodle making workshops. The huge Mekong river, islands, boats, floating markets…it all sounds amazing. But the tour we went on was not. 

There are tons of shops selling tours in Saigon, and we went into the one shop that had a nice, smiling face who said hello every time we walked past her store front. Surely a friendly face would amount to a decent tour. Wrong again. 

We showed up for our tour at the appointed time, though the tour guide was 30 minutes overdue to pick us up. Oh well. There’s the bus. We got on only to find that we were the only white faces on a bus of Vietnamese people. Every tour we’d purchased previously was targeted at tourists and it didn’t even cross our mind that we’d ever be on a tour with people from the same country. We were a bit weary, but we tried to stay open-minded, maybe the tour would be more interesting, more authentic with people that were actually from the country. But our fears were confirmed. The tour guide spoke in Vietnamese 90% of the time. He’d speak for 20 minutes in Vietnamese, explaining the itinerary, sights and history to the bus, then he’d speak to us and the two other English speakers for two minutes, a very repetitive two minutes where he’d say the same thing three, four, five times. We’ll have free time, free time. We can go walking, fishing, cycling. Cycling. Do we know cycling? Cycling. Mime of cycling. Then we’ll get on the boat. The boat. Boat. Then the boat will take us to our next stop. Stop. Don’t forget your belongings when you get off the bus. Remember to take your belongings. Get your bags and purses and belongings. After we got off the bus—remember your personal belongings. Another three times. I’m sure he was trying his best, but he spoke as if he were speaking to children, completely condescendingly. Four hours of this on the drive down was enough to make me dread and resent his English spiels.  

When we got down to the Mekong, we all got on the boat and drove around to different islands. At the first island we tried honey tea which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like—honey in hot water—with the addition of some citrus fruit. There were also some tasty candied ginger and bananas as well as some toffee.

 

 

At the next island we ate local tropical fruits (which are all sold on the roadside in Saigon and Hanoi) while listening to singers who were kind enough to end their round of singing with a rendition of “If You’re Happy and You Know it” which was quite strange. They also handed out plastic roses, which we were supposed to put money in and return to the singers. A tipping of sorts. After the singing, we piled into small boats for a bumper-boat ride down the canal. It was a really cool boat ride aside from each boat’s rowers constantly asking for money.

 

 

In addition to the men and women we passed sticking their hands out asking for five dollars, Marcus was constantly needled in the back by one of our own rowers asking for money. Ten minutes of this was quite enough (though I was sitting in front of Marcus, oblivious, enjoying the shady, watery alleyway). Again, we did not tip as we know they would have been paid already from our tour fees. We also agree that people shouldn't get paid more money for doing very little. We're firm believers that people should be productive, inventive and industrious rather than relying on handouts for a living. And, as we watched the rowers drop off their passengers, the only other foreigners in our group passed over the equivalent of ten dollars to their rower, who proceeded to proudly show off his lottery win to the rest of the boat rowers. And that’s why they continue to ask. Ask and you shall receive.  

At island number three we had lunch then visited a “coconut temple” where we were told the monks ate coconut every day. The temple, however, was devoid of both monks and coconuts and looked more like an abandoned theme park. The island also had a fish pond with planted fish for tourists to fish in and a crocodile enclosure where tourists could feed them with a fishing pole of chicken. It was a really weird stop. Island number four had more randomness in store for us. First we got the rundown on how coconut candy is made though it didn’t seem that candy was still made there so much as it was a quaint little tourist stop with people planted in seats pretending to wrap coconut candy while the candy is properly being made in a factory somewhere else on the island. After this “workshop” we were loaded into horse-drawn carts and taken for a short spin into town and back. We were told that vehicles weren’t on the islands, that people relied on walking and manual transportation such as these carts. Which was just a silly thing to say since the island was full of trucks and motorcycles. You’d think maybe it was a “lost in translation” moment, but really, isn’t that just an all-out lie? And for what purpose?  

Luckily that was the last island stop of the day, because at that point we were over the token tourist stops. There was nothing natural, authentic, or even interesting about what we’d seen. We spent the next four hours on the bus, with a solid hour spent creeping along in a traffic jam that I wouldn’t have thought could exist outside of a city. By the time we met our host for the home stay, it was 8pm and we had to grope our way down to the next boat in the dark, completely sans lighting. Again, the boat trip was a quaint little mode of transportation for the tourists. Our host passed us off to a boat driver then took off on his motorcycle. He’d meet us at his house. The nighttime boat ride was actually the best part of the day. Though paranoid that I might get mosquito bites, the temperature was a cool relief from the hot day and the breeze off the canal was welcome. We started noticing some tiny little lights in the trees and bushes, Marcus thinking they were animal eyes and me thinking they were some varied form of LED lights for who knows what purpose. We finally realized that they were fireflies. Fireflies! Neither of us had ever seen them before and they were a big magical reminding us of the glow worms we’d seen in New Zealand. How do you light up like that? Fantastic. 

We arrived at our homestay late and had an even later dinner. This “home stay” was very much like the one in Sapa. Not a home stay, but more of a glorified family-run hotel with rooms sub-par sleeping arrangements. The family didn’t interact with us at all, but once again we found ourselves in good company amongst the other home stayers. We stayed up chatting relating some of the highs and lows of our travel experiences. One couple told us about the scams in China where they’d been last, finding Vietnam to be somewhat of a relief in comparison. Although a lot of the conversation was about negative experiences, it also made us feel better, that we weren’t crazy and that these were common experiences and reactions experienced by others. We fell asleep under our mosquito net that night feeling conversationally satiated.  

The next day it was back on the boat for an hour-long ride along the river. Here's an idea of what the Mekong Delta neighborhoods look like from the canal.

 

 

 

We stopped at a canal-side market while waiting for the bigger tour boat to come pick us up and we were at the wiggly seafood end of the market. The fish, both alive and dead, the eels, the prawns, and the frogs. A collection of dead frogs skewered through a big metal ring. Then Marcus told me something even worse. Frogs that had been skinned alive, that were still alive and waiting to be sold. I walked away immediately, trying to keep my feet from getting wet in the fish guts filled water that was constantly thrown out on the walkway.

 

The boat did finally come get us, though all of the Vietnamese passengers were on the boat already and we were passed off to the wooden benches at the back of the boat. First we drove past a floating market. We had envisioned a floating market the likes of which you see in pictures in Thailand—lots of little canoes filled with goods, vendors rowing over to sell you their fruit, veg and handicrafts. This market consisted of massive boats overloaded with produce. Each boat had a series of fake fruit and veg hanging from a pole on top of their boat to identify what they were selling. Handy.  

 

 

After the market the boat turned down a canal and we stopped to watch the production of rice noodles. They were actually making the noodles in front of us, so that was a bit more interesting. We also made one more stop at a token fruit orchard where there were lines of different tropical fruits. That was actually much appreciated because we got to see where dragonfruit and durians grow. Durians are massive and heavy fruits so we were pretty surprised to see them hanging off trees, often not close to the ground!

 

 

There were also other fruit and veg that were growing that we’d never seen before. That was what I was really excited about and wanted to see. And taste! Alas, they skipped over many of these items (the only new one they told us the name of was milkfruit) and a fine accompanied any illegal picking. The only fruits they sold were the usuals—durian, pineapple, dragonfruit.  

After that we sat in the boat for another three to four hours, finally landed for lunch and after a lot of confusion and misdirection from our guide, we finally got onto the bus for the six-hour ride back to Saigon again getting shifted to the back of the bus. We were pretty sick of paying more than the locals and getting the shittiest seats on every mode of transportation. Marcus looked like his head was going to explode, but we quietly read and endured the extremely bumpy ride back. 

Ugh. Mekong Delta, I think you could have been awesome. And if I went there again, I’d pay more for a better tour. I’d research further to see what was offered. I would do you very, very differently. 

After the tour, we spent one more night in Saigon, went to the surgeon for a final arm appointment (all was well) and boarded the bus to Cambodia. Border crossing. Oh dear.