THAILAND - Bangkok, Thursday 4th May

Wow. I'm suffering from an acute, reverse culture shock. Yesterday a hair-raising taxi ride (mainly in the wrong lane, towards oncoming traffic) brought me to Hanoi airport, where a smooth Air Asia flight swept me off to Thailand. I glimpsed Bangkok, while crawling through heavy traffic in an air conditioned shuttle bus, and was deposited at The Kao San Road.
Alex Garland, author of 'The Beach', describes the the Kao San Road as a sort of decompression chamber between East and West. It is a jumping off point from which to explore South East Asia and is consequently full of beaded, dreaded Travellers (yes, with a capital 'T') shuffling around looking bleary and bewildered. There are the aging hippies, who seem to be stuck here, the fresh-from-school kids, who travel in packs, delirious with excitement (and too much Sang Som), and the rest of us South East Asia trampers milling about from bar to clothes shop to Internet cafe, trying to figure out how to get to our next destination and having to pinch ourselves to remind ourselves where we are.
Jazz and I, happily reunited, wandered around the neon-lit, thumping streets feeling like two out-of-towners, marvelling at the bright lights, pounding western music and abundance of (tanned) white faces.
Travelling has come to remind me of university: Starting impromptu conversations with strangers, forming brief but significant friendships and loosing track of week days. If that is so, the The Kao San Road is the culmination of Fresher's Week. Everything is arranged for our entertainment with the sole aim of parting us with our baht. Movies play on loop in cafes with sofas, tour offices sell trips to the islands, bars churn out cheap, lethal cocktails and tattoo parlours are literally a-buzz, taking advantage of travellers' sense of abandonment which comes from being so far from home.
After my last few months in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam I find this jolt back to 'the West' a little unnerving and I'm feeling a little misplaced. It is also rather exhilarating. I can see how easy it is to get swept up in this surreal bubble but it is disconcerting when you can so easily forget where you are.
I'd better get used to it, however, there is a definite Full Moon Party buzz about the place at the moment so I suspect I've just found my travel companions for the next week or so...
Still, if you can't beat em, join em.

VIETNAM - Hanoi, Tuesday 22nd May

I awoke yesterday morning to a cheery wave from the little girl in the bunk opposite me as we rattled through lime green rice fields, tinny musac being piped at me from hidden speakers. It was 6.00am, but at least I'd had some sleep. The evening before, my fellow travellers and I journey down the train, past increasing uncomfortable-looking seats, stepping over bodies, to the 'dining car' (a couple of tables and some boxes) for some beers. It was soon bedtime for the staff though so we crept back to our compritively luxurious quaters and retired.
We arrived at Hanoi at around 11.30 and were swept into town by a hopeful hotelier. Slightly guiltily, I accepted a very smart room complete with shiny bathroom (the irony of the 'American Standard' wash basin, juxtaposed with the red flags a fluttering outside made me smile) and cable TV. Still, for the equivalent of 4 pounds, I thought I could manage it.
We spent the afternoon exploring the Old Quater: Narrow streets packed with motor bikes and shops spilling out onto the pavement. Each street has a theme, be it sunglasses, shoes or toys, and is named accordingly. Frustrating when you are looking for sunglasses but all you can find is pipe cleaners. In the evening we sat out on the street on little plastic stools and sipped very cheap beer from a keg and watched Hanoi bustle past. When in Rome...
Today my friends departed for Halong Bay, I had to forgo the trip as I'm running out of time - always a problem - and so I set solo off to see some of the sights. My trusty Lonely Planet firmly pointed me in the direction of the Museum of Ethnology and so I dutifully headed out of town to see what it was all about.
Aside from offering a welcome sanctury from the growlings of a dissappointed moto driver, who was determined to over charge me, it was rather wonderful. A huge modern building divided into sections dedicated to the different ethnic groups that make up South East Asia and the history of their migration from different parts of the world. Outside there sprawled several examples of different villages, packed full of artifacts. They must have invested a huge amount into the museum, you could spend days there.
I departed, however, to have another argument with a moto and headed to the Ho Chi Minh Museum. A massive Art Decco pile of concrete and marble containging an imposing hall with a gold Ho Chi Minh saluting me as I climbed the stairs. There were some bizzare, stylised displays of ideology, most of which, being in Vietnamese, was lost on me, but I got the jist.
The Old Quater is built around a lake. Futher inspection of the lake I found myself at this afternoon after being dumped by another moto (grrr) revealed that it was infact the wrong one. Still, it was very pretty and surrounded by little cafes so I explored the leafy streets of this more affluent area for a short while before taking my final moto back to the Old Quater for a cup of coffee and spot of re-grouping.
As I was on my way to visit a restored Chiese-style house I heard my name and turned to see some people that I met in my last night in Hoi An. So that is my how-shall-I-kill-this-evening problem sorted.
Tomorrow I fly to Bangkok to be reunited with one of my fellow volunteers and head south to the Islands for some Full Mooning. At this rate I'm going to be Oz before I know it...

VIETNAM - Hue (written from Hanoi) Monday 21st May

Although somewhat forgotten, the central coastal city of Hue served as the nation's capital for over a century. It has sprawled over to the South of Song Huong (Perfume River) but its key attraction is its 19th Century Citadel, which houses the Imperial Enclosure and Forbidden Purple City, used during the Nguyen Dynasty. Since then it has been left to crumble somewhat and took a sever battering from those pesky Americans. But it remains, historically, the cultural centre of Vietnam and, consequently, worth a butchers.

So, after another brief night's sleep (Hoi An seemed able to produce a couple of late night hot-spots after all) I took the 3 hour bus ride up north to Hue.
After a brief, much needed, power nap, I set off on foot in the direction of the Citadel. I was enjoying a nice amble along the river front through neat little gardens when my flip-flop broke. There is something totally absolute about a broken flip-flop. You can't hobble anywhere holding it on with your toe. No, one minute you are comfortably, and airily, shod, the next you are not. A cafe of locals witnessed my misfortune with characteristic giggles and sympathetic cluckings. As I stood there grinning awkwardly, a woman emerged with another pair and gave them to me. I love this country. Fortunately I found a cobbler and was able to return them on route to my destination.
The old city is walled and contains the Imperial Enclosure. Feeling lazy (and not trusting my footwear) I allowed myself to be pushed around the city in a cyclo. The afternoon was approaching evening and thunder clouds grumbled around the Citadel which, aside from the impressive walls and gate ways, spattering of American army tanks and guns and a big lilly pad-filled moat, did little to capture my imagination. The Imperial Enclosure itself was a little haphazard too. Due to the election the following day (May 20th), some event was being set up so I was a little distracted by rolls of cable, trestle tables and plastic dragons.
I wandered around deserted, over-grown gardens and ceremonial halls but felt rather unmoved and in the way, so I bid a retreat and returned to my hotel to see about a trip down the Perfume River to the tombs, the 'must do' of Hue.
That evening, while I was busy getting lost, I came across a rally. Red flags everywhere, hoards of people milling and 3 men in tuxedos on a big stage, bedecked with red banners, stood warbling "Vietnam! Vietnam" What I assumed to be there national anthem. People were wandering about looking mildly interested. I was relived, however, to not detect any inclinations to start throwing their arms in the air or hunting any 'suspect capitalists' to lynch...

The next morning I was up early and on a boat with fellow sight seers and a sweet, shy Vietnamese guide, and off down the Perfume River in hunt of tombs.
The tombs of the Nguyen Emperors are set along the banks of the river and are made more impressive by their setting amongst pine trees, surrounded by beautiful lakes. The solemn, over-sized tombs themselves have the customary air of being absurdly disproportionate to their content - the withered remains of a human being. I often stand at tombs and try and summon a sensation other than that but I am usually unsuccessful. Granted, I am yet to go to Egypt.
I happily contented myself with wandering around the lakes and through the pines, which gave the place a Mediterranean feel.

I returned to the hotel in time to find Cli and the other 2 Irish girls getting off the bus from Hoi An, laden with purchases. So we had an early dinner before I set off to the station, bumping into some people from my river trip on route. I have travel companions to Hanoi. Funny how it works out.

Boots, shoes, jackets, trousers, dresses...
I've been scampering around Hoi An like a kid in a sweet shop (or a woman in a town where clothes and shoes are tailor made, in abundance and dirt cheap). The magnetic lure of such a place could be fatal. It is not helped by the fact that Hoi An is a really beautiful little town: Narrow streets lined with crumbling French villas and Chinese Silk Merchants' houses, with thick, dark wooden balconies; little lantern adorned river-front restaurants twinkling appealingly and offering Hoi An culinary treats; A beautiful palm-treed, white sand beach just up the road... It would be easy to get stuck here.
Yesterday we hired bikes and pottered around the Old Town poking about in Pagodas, some of the old houses open to the public and little art galleries before returning to our friendly tailors and shoe makers to inspect our purchases.
Today we went to the beach and finally collected our booty, which is now strewn about all over the room. We are wondering how we are ever going to fit it all in our bags and how much we will get charged for being over weight. Time to leave I think.
So tonight we gather up some more Irish girls and some British boys and check out a few Hoi An 'hotspots' and then bright and early tomorrow I'm off to Hue and what I am told is the far from enchanting North. People I meet coming up from the South are, like us, full of praise for the beauty of the country and the friendliness of its people. Those coming down from the North, however, have a very different story to tell and are generally disenchanted with the place. It gets better for them and worse for us. But I remain optimistic. Watch this space...

Half a day on a bus, or 2 days on the back of a Honda with a night in a highland village drinking rice wine with the village chief... A bit of a no-brainer really. Not only did I have a chance to indulge my recently-discovered fondness for riding around on the back of motorbikes, but also a chance to some more remote parts of the highlands with a guide called Monkey. Hard to resist.
So bright and early on Sunday morning, Clio and I saddled up and vroom vroomed off into the mountains. We were amazingly lucky with the weather. After the torrential rain of the previous day, we expected it be rather damp going, but the sun shone brightly as we pootled down mountains and into valleys, stopping every so often to peer at a cinnamon tree, visit a silk factory, scramble down waterfalls or simply just to walk for a bit and regain the feeling in our legs.
Monkey and his mate Buffalo proved to be excellent guides. A real double act who teased us, told funny stories and giggle heartily at our attempts to learn Vietnamese.
We arrived at a pretty little farming village, tucked in a valley on a lake and surrounded by green rice fields, just in time to grab a beer, wade out to an upturned boat and sit and watch a beautiful sunset while the villagers fished, played football or just pottered around, smiling cheerily at us in greeting.
We had a hilarious evening together, joined by the village chief, a crazy little guy who knocked back rice whiskey, chatted away to us in Vietnamese and finally challenged Clio to a wrestling match (which she won). We then went outside to play Keepy-Uppy with everyone, we lost so bought them all ice creams. The young girls were shy but friendly and soon giggling at us two over-sized, clumsy westerners trying to play their game.
Abruptly (as it seems to happen in these remote spots) it turned 11.00pm and the power went out. Bed time. We slept on the floor of a bungalow on stilts, pigs rooting around in the mud beneath us.
Up bright and early yesterday morning for a truly beautiful ride down to Nah Trang, through green paddy fields with grazing buffalo and farmers in straw hats, up into mountains through wisps of cloud and, for a short time, along the Ho Chi Minh Trail and war-scarred hillsides. I can't really do it justice, I know my photos won't either but it was wonderful riding through the countryside in the open air, with the wind in our faces surrounded by such beauty. It will be one of my highlights of South East Asia.
We bid a sad farewell to Monkey and Buffalo when they dropped us at our guest house, we had such a good time together.
Nah Trang is a fairly major coastal town and quite a contrast to the little village of the previous night. We sampled the nightlife last night and then lay on the beach for most of today feeling sorry for ourselves. Tonight we are taking the 12 hour bus to Hoi An for a spot of shopping. Onwards and upwards.

VIETNAM - Da Lat (see below for cockroach whimper)

Bidding a cheery farewell to Mui Ne and its insect-life, I hopped on a bus to Da Lat; a town up in the mountains, the principle honeymoon destination in Vietnam and rather eccentric.
The drive was a beautiful, steep climb into lush mountains, the green trees set off nicely against the red earth. The air grew cooler and fresher, for which (after the pungent stench of Mui Ne that is famous for its fish sauce - and smells accordingly) I was extremely thankful. We vanished into the clouds and arrived in Da Lat in a torrential rain storm. The bus dropped us at a hotel (of course) and the friendly, chatty hotelier cheerfully showed us rooms, knowing that the rain was in his favour. Once again the rooms were a good size, clean and cheap and I was very excited to discover blankets on the beds and hot water in the taps. So we settled.
I have picked up (or was picked up by, I'm never sure how it works) by a nice Irish girl who is travelling the same route as me, which brings the living cost down significantly.
To make up for it we spent last night in a bar in the basement of a swish hotel. An amazing place, no doubt built for the homesick French. It was low ceilinged and cosy with thick stone walls and wooden beams, playing sentimental, warbling French music. Totally out of place and yet rather fitting in this chilly town up in the mountains.
Today looked promising weather-wise so we decided to hire a motor bike (Cliomadh being designated driver, me ineffective designated navigator). By the guidance of the handy landmark, a mini Eiffel Tower (yes really) we found and wandered around Boa Dai's Summer Palace, a 1930s pile of concrete that seemed to be designed with Function (with a capital 'F') in mind. More entertaining were the Vietnamese tourists who were dressing up in fancy costumes and solomly posing next to plastic elephants and horse-drawn buggies. Kitch (with a capital 'K'). Emboldened by our success, we set off in search of a waterfall. Halfway there, however, the clouds descended and the rain started pelting, so we about turned and opted for drier diversions such as the insane Hang Nga Art Gallery & Guesthouse and the local museum.
Dripping wet, despite our fetching plastic macs, we poked around the crazy Alice in Wonderland-style Hang Nga, up wonky stairs and stooping down higgldy piggldy passageways into bedrooms complete with leering animal models (some with disturbingly illuminated eyes) and mirrors on the ceiling. Rather warming to Obscure Kitch theme, we had lunch in similarly adorned cafe before heading through the relentless rain to the local museum.
The museum is in another old French Villa and contains various artifacts from local ethnic tribes. More entertaining, however, was the proprietor: A friendly Vietnamese woman with Cleopatra hair, a lot of eye make up and drawn-on eye brows. She welcomed us, introduced herself and became our self-appointed guide. After pointing out various pots and jugs she turned to me, surveyed me thoughtfully and said: "Slim, nice form. Like Asian."
"Thank you."
"Not like other English and Americans. Fat. You are beautiful."
I took and immediate liking to her but still winced at the perceived image of the west. We are so big and clumsy compared to their delicacy.
By now it was cold, we were wet and I'd lost the feeling in my fingers so we've returned to our guesthouse to dry off and discuss the various, exciting ways we can make our way to Nang Trang tomorrow...

If someone was to grant one of our earth's more disgusting creatures the power of flight, I fail to see why they neglected to give them any navigational skills to boot. There is something quite mesmerising about the incompetence of a cockroach in flight. It sits very still for a long time and then some impulse hurls it into the air , as if by accident. Seemingly surprised, and unsettled, to find itself air-born, it crashes about noisily banging into things before settling, dazed once more to recover itself, before repeating the whole business again. When you know full well that your face could easily be the next impact spot, you find yourself watching this giant tumbling insect with trance-like terror. This was exactly what I was doing while I finished blogging the other day, when I finally lost my nerve, hurridly paid up and scuttled past the offending bug (now come to rest on the floor) and made my exit before he once more resumed flight. I do not posses the presence of mind, or inclination, of the Vietnamese to simply pick them up and throw them outside. I am pathetic I know, but really, you should see them, they are huge.
Until now I had got off rather lightly on the insect front. Creepy crawlies did not show themselves in the abundance I had expected from South East Asia. But the rainy season has been established for a couple of months in Vietnam and I suspect that has something to do with it.
Sandflies too have launched a major offensive and I have watched with a mixture of awe and alarm as the unsightly blotches on my legs, as a result of constant nibbling, have swollen up, joined together and thrown a party which no amount of Witch Hazel can subdue. This leads to frantic midnight fidgeting. Far from pleasant.
So, with this in mind, I left the sultry, muggy coast and headed for the breezy relief of the highlands...

VIETNAM - Mui Ne (Second Saigon post just below)

Mui Ne is a beach resort town, popular due to its convienient distance from Ho Chi Minh and note-worthy because of its expansive sand dunes which span the indland side of the town. Aside from that it is unremarkable. The long, narrow town lies along 9kms of beach and seems to be entirly made up of beach resorts, souvenir shops and restaurants, all of which seem spookily empty.
We were tipped off the bus straight into one of the resorts (owned by the bus company of course) and we were surprised to find it rather pretty, right on the beach, clean and cheap. So we settled in and spent the rest of the afternoon on the quite-nice beach and swimming i the less-than-clean water - too many plastic bags for my liking. The evening failed to produce much in the way of entertainment, aside from a hair-raising, near-death experience on the back of a moto, so we sipped beer on our little balcony and had an early night.
Seeing as sand dunes seemed to be what Mui Ne is all about, we decided that we'd better go and look at them. So we stumbled, bleerily out into the darkness and into a waiting jeep at 5.00am this morning to bounce our way, gears screaching, to the White Sand dune to observe an overcast sunrise. Despite the uncertain weather, it was very beautiful. We sat perched on a dune overlooking a lake that was lined with what looked oddly like pine trees and watched a family of dogs scamper busily in the foreground while the sun did its best.
We were then rattled off to the Red Canyon, a bizarre little canyon made from bright red sand, which formed shapes very much like those of melting candels in Chianti bottles. I discoverd that, only being made of compressed sand, parts of the canyon could be snapped off and disintergrated in your hand, which lead to a brief moment of gleefull meaningless demolition of parts of the 'mountain' making us feel like giants. Fun.
At the Yellow Dune we were accosted by small boys commaning us to "Slide down, slide down' on thier offered boards. This quickly became simply: "Give money, give money" when they saw we weren't inclined to strap ourselves to sheets of plastic and hurl ourselves off dunes (tempting though) and finally "F**k you, f**k you when they realised that we weren't adherring to any of their requests. Nice. So we scampered from there and took refuge in the insanely picturesque fishing village all a-bob with little painted boats, the locals obligingly wearing triangular straw hats and scurrying around, oblivious to us, the only westerners. We were only noticed by 2 children selling sea shells. They smiled broadly at me, gave me one as a present and waved cheerly as our driver drove us, gawping in amazement, away.
Back for a wade in the Fairy Stream, why it is named that I don't know but it was nice nonetheless. And then it was breakfast time so we returned to our guest house, by now only 8.00am. Few!
We got a bit of sunning in on the beach before the heavens opened and, dodging between rain drops, Philp bid me farewell and got the bus back to Ho Chi Minh leaving me scribbling my diary.
Now, as I write this, the rain thumps down still and I am watching with mounting alarm as a huge flying cockroach is banging its way into the wall towards me...
Off into the highlands tomorrow and more bugs no doubt.

VIETNAM - Ho Chi Minh (Saigon)

"Bullshit Mister! Why are you such a bad man?" This remark was directed with some venom at Philip. Adult eyes glared out of the face of a 12 year old boy as he spat the words. He'd approached us as we sat outside a bar and had been much miffed by the fact that the cheap, illeagle copy of 'Lonely Planet: Vietnam' that Philip had bought in Thailand, was a more recent copy that the pirate copy that he was peddling. He wanted to borrow the copy to copy it again and Philip was understandably reluctant to hand it over. Finally, for a quiet life, he agreed to do so, on the condition that the boy left all of his other books with us. It just goes to show that if you give an inch... Poor Philip was accosted by the same boy the night after who was just looking for a fight. These kids can be pretty grating on the patience but they seem to grow out of it, if the older hawkers are anything to go by.

But that aside I enjoyed my short stint in Ho Chi Minh. On Monday I happily surrendoured all map reading responsibilities and trotted around after Philip as he lead us around the city taking in the major sites: The covered Ben Thanh Market, where you are practically rugby tackled by merchants trying to sell you trousers as you pass; the Fine Arts Museum, sadly closed on Mondays but in a beautiful colonial villa so I stared longingly at the awening, my thirst for some art remaining un-quenched; the Ho Chi Minh City Museum; the rather depressing War Remnants Museum that offers a rather one-sided account of the 'American War' and holds some unbelievably grusome reminders of the brutality of mankind; past the Natre Dame Cathedral - very incongruous - and then back to the Pham Ngu Lao area where we are staying, diving out of the way of motor cycles and saying a silent prayer every time we crossed the road.
On Tuesday we boarded a large tourist bus and were packed off to suffle obidiently around Cu Chi (a district 60km out of the city) and marvel at the remarkable system okf tunnels winding for some 200kms around Ho Chi Minh. The Viet Cong lived in these tunnels whilst fighting the Americans and they have now become a symbol of 'Vietnamese Revolutionary Herosim'.
Our cheerful, toothless guide showed us a 1960s propaganda 'documentory' about the tunnels commending the Viet Cong as "American killing heros." When you see the ingenious ways in which they disguised the tunnels and numerous ways they found for giving American soldiers long and painful deaths as they fell into traps all over the jungle, recycling weapons used on them, you wonder how the Americans ever thought they stood a chance. The Viet Cong were totally relentless in their determination and, unlike the Americans, where never struck with the moral crushing feelings of futility. Consequently, they won.

On my last evening in Saigon, I went for a wander in the little park near our guest house and cused myself immediately for not bringing a camera. The park itself is fairly conventional, but pleasing, with tarmac for jogging and ball games, punctuated with neat walled patches of grass with an occasional palm tree plonked fetchingly in the middle. The earlier rain had cleared for a pretty mauve sunset that sat reflected in the puddles. People strolled, stretched, jogged and played impressive games of keepy-uppy - popular in South East Asia. I was politely offered a "Good evening" by a beautiful girl dressed in the silk trousers and high necked tunics - slit to the waist - that you see so many elegant girls wearing here (which causes the most amusing effect on Philip). The setting sun danced off the shiny windows of a glitzy office building and the motor horns tooted in approval. I wished I could have stayed longer.

CAMBODIA TO VIETNAM, Sunday 6th May

And back on the road again.
It was sad to say goodbye to Cambodia, it has been a wonderful month. It is a complicated country undergoing a fairly major identity crisis. On one hand, the Khmer are fiercely proud of their heritage, Angkor, but on the other they still struggle under the shadow of more recent events. From what Muoy has said, the Cambodians have developed a distaste for all things Khmer in favour of things west instead, which is sad.
But, as I have said before, the people I have met here have been some of the most friendly that I have met in South East Asia and seem, for the most part, to be always smiling and friendly. The children I have worked with have been good-natured, happy and full of curiosity. It was hard to say goodbye to them, I've grown quite attached and I have now have a bag full of little farewell pictures from them all. Muoy is right, they are the generation that will be able to bring Cambodia forward. The country is still very poor but there is a glimmer of light at the end of a long tunnel.

So, after an hour's sleep (our leaving party being a rather drawn out affair) my alarm dragged me out of my slumber and Philip and I crept out of Seametrey, bidding a sleepy Channit (one of our students) farewell as he had woken up specially to see us off. We boarded a sweltering 'air con' bus that took us along a painfully bumpy road for a few hours to the boat. A few more hours down the Mekong, very wide at this point and lined with paddy fields, and we were at the boarder.
My visa had expired the day before but as it was only $5 a day for an over stay I had not bothered to extend it. I had not, however, read the small print which talks about the $30 penalty for overstaying at all. Ouch. So $35 poorer, I crossed over the boarder to Vietnam and we were scooped up by a friendly, efficient Vietnamese woman who swept us onto another boat for the remainder of the journey.
The 2 1/2 hour journey to Cau Doc was really beautiful. We made our way down a narrow fork of the river, lined on both sides by little basic corrugated iron huts on stilts. While the Khmers are farmers, the Vietnamese are fishing people and rather than stretches of farm land there were little communities of people bathing, fishing and waving cheerfully to us as we passed, looking very picturesque in pointed straw hats. A lovely welcome to Vietnam.
We were totally exhausted by the time we arrived at the busy little town of Cau Doc on the Mekong Delta. There was just enough energy to wander around the buzzy market place, dodging motors and bicycles, have and early dinner and then pass out.
We were up early again this morning but feeling much more human. We had a quick tour of the floating fishing villages on the Delta before we were on a bus to Ho Chi Minh (Saigon).
So far, Philip and I have been rather unlucky with our fellow travelers. Yesterday it was a middle-aged American gentleman from Boston who was intent on drawing a less-than-responsive me into a discussion about the War On Terror and religious fanatics, today it was a Frenchman who was demanding to know what I was proposing to do about oil shortages and my troublesome government. Quite a character, he has moved to Vietnam to be with his Vietnamese girlfriend but is so exasperated at her refusal to learn French (him speaking no Vietnamese) that he is threatening to go back to France in a huff. There are many like him out here I fear. And I have never seen anyone sweat so much.
From now on Philip and I operate a strict 'earphones in at all times' policy on long bus journeys. Although this might also have something to do with my insistence to sing snippets of songs from Miss Saigon increasingly as we drew near the city...

So here we are, safe and sound. So far Ho Chi Minh looks very much like other Asian cities: Straight, grid-system roads, three story balconied concrete buildings and an endless honking stream of motor bikes, driven by people in baseball caps and face masks. I look forward to exploring more tomorrow.
In the mean time, we have found a guest house in a sort of mini Khao San Road and are about ready to sample a Vietnamese beer...