Hello all, I'm back in India now for awhile. This next part was written by hand in my little notebook, sitting on a buzzing boat bound for Phnom Phen, Cambodia on the Mekong River. It's a bit detail heavy but I guess at the time I didn't want to forget a moment of the trip. It took place in first weeks of January as we were leaving Saigon.
An early rise led to meeting R. in the street for a quick breakfast of buns and coffee. We caught a taxi bound for the bus station sanctioned by the, in this case, Phoney Planet. Upon arrival we were quickly shuttled onto what we thought was the right bus. Smiling, they'd reassured us in our protests of our destination, My Tho. A quick bargain got us tickets which seemed awfully cheap. The worries were quickly answered when not even 20 minutes later we were rushed off and onto yet another waiting bus, still haven't had left Saigon.
This bus was far seedier. Nevertheless, we were assured it went where we needed it to go and were told that the tickets were 300,000 VND each! Bargaining ensued, including some anger on behalf of the completely non-English speaking and semi-toothless ticket seller. At one point, we were sure that we'd get kicked off the bus any second now. Holding steady, we handed him a 100,000 bill for both of us . With all of the other passengers now watching, he threw his hands up and flew off in a huff. From 300,000 to 50,000 each, our bargaining skills were being sharpened! I'm sure we still over payed.
Naturally, we were dropped off six kilometers from our destination, the waterfront where we were to arrange a boat. A kind old man getting off with us, simply handed us a paper that said "Honda, Mekong, 10,000." This meant that a Motorbike taxi should cost 10,000 VND to the water. We didn't get our price from the drivers gathered and proceeded to walk. The small trek, which brought us some great views of a small village and a giant Buddha, led us to a market which while being in My Tho was still quite far from the river. Yet another kind man helped us to arrange motorbikes to the tourist offices.
Just over the bridge we'd entered into a virtual ghost town. This was where we were to set off on our river adventure? After getting an outrageously high quote on what we wanted we were approached by a tattooed man who spoke decent English. Asking us what we were looking for, he invited us to his cafe to "discuss." Though he wasn't an official tour guide, we decided to hear him out. It came up that he was a former soldier and had many stories of the days when the Americans were around. We told him we were Canadian. In the end, we ended up cutting a deal for a boat tour, a home stay in a village and another boat tour the following day. Little did we know the adventure about to ensue.
Having shook on it, we were led to his boat just across the river. The vessel was to be piloted by his older brother and a young man who was dressed in a collared shirt and dress pants, looking quite clean, at the time that is. R. had noticed, unbeknownst to me, that the man was drunk. Onwards!
The trip commenced with some beautiful jungle canals which were straight out of "Apocalypse Now" or any other Vietnam War movie.
This brought us to a fine restaurant in the trees where we shared a giant Elephant Ear fish which we rolled (read: someone rolled for us) into Spring Rolls. It felt weird being the only two eating with the other guys around but they refused when we offered and we were starved.
Next stop was a little Island on the tourist trail which houses a coconut candy factory. We sampled some fresh ones until our host called us over to sample something a bit different, Banana Whiskey. Apparently, this is a speciality in the region and was on sale here a well. Neither of us being quite enchanted with it other than for the novelty, opted out of buying it.
A few minutes later, for some reason, our guide left the boat, claiming he had other business and left us in the company of the pilot and the drunk. It must not have been many more minutes later before Mr. Drunk, as he shall now be known, had crouched up behind us in the boat and offered a shot of some alcohol. Mind you, it was only about 1pm. Not wanting to be rude, we accepted the offer and swallowed the awful sweet liquid with only minor gagging. What we came to find out was that while we were inspecting coconut candy making machines and trying fresh sweets, our pilot had snuck behind the scenes and purchases not one but five bottles of the Banana Whiskey!This began a ritual that would repeat itself many many times over the next day and a half.
Despite some refusals we must have had five or six shots in the next hour. R., being the non-drinker having less and myself being the appeaser, consuming more. Mr. Drunk was getting drunker and was as we came to understand through vulgar hand gestures, kisses and sly winks, offering us hookers!? Oddly enough, these shenanigans actually enhanced the trip and in no way distracted from the sheer beauty of the wide brown river Mekong.
It was a pleasure to watch the greenery of the coast, the smiles of the kids frantically waving and screaming "hello" and the peacefulness of the passing boats and their crews. Our journey was long and the pilot suggested we lay down and take naps. He got out some life jackets for pillows and put up a tarp as a curtain to block out the sun. Taking his suggestion we were knocked out instantly.
Perhaps an hour later, woken up by the sun peaking through the curtain, we were plunged into a river of tranquility. Having arranged our own trip we were taken far out of the tourist laden course. Without a single sign of a foreigner nearby, even the drone of the engine seemed to disappear. I found it a good time to take out the ole guitar and play a few tunes. It was a bit hard to hear over the roar of the motor but R. seemed to enjoy it and the setting brought me into a state of euphoria. What can be better than nature and music?
This got the attention of our pilot who had by this point handed over the controls to Mr. Drunk and had come to observe my playing. He seemed to like it and of course offered more shots of the Banana Whiskey. Euphoria and random shots continued until we'd reached our first stop, a small village market by the water. Here we picked up some small watermelons and some colorful prickly fruits which were similar to Lychee but were called Rambutan's. Noshing on fresh fruit, consuming shots and dodging kisses from Mr. Drunk, we continued into a colorful and serene sunset.
Observing the calm ship crews reclining in hammocks as they cruised by, R. and I exchanged opinions on the simplicity of life on the water. Of course we also understood this was purely relative, because these people had no choice and we were merely catching a glimpse of what is otherwise most likely a hard life. Darkness came and it dawned on us that our pilot had no idea of our destination, assuming there was one to begin with. Still enthralled, we weren't worried.
The sun had set and the sky was pitch. After some asking around and navigation in the dark shallow waters with the help of a flashlight, we approached an island with what appeared to be a guesthouse at the end of the dock. It dawned on us that this was probably not the village we'd made a deal for but in our state of elation we were liable to agree. This place ended up being interesting nonetheless. It was indeed a guesthouse on stilts and entirely engrossed with the vegetation we'd been seeing everywhere. Our room was a separate shack on stilts with no walls and two cots shrouded in blue mosquito nets.
We sat down to dinner with the pilot, while Mr. Drunk slept in the boat. Much to our surprise, they brought out a rather big Elephant Ear fish, much like the one we'd had for lunch. This was a big meal, we thought until they brought our even more dishes. Most likely, for our two companions. Soon we were joined by the owner of the place, a young worker and finally a weary Mr. Drunk.
Food soon turned to music and magic tricks. I got my guitar and started entertaining as usual. Soon the pilot asked for the guitar and sang us some Vietnamese songs. Not to be outdone, or out drunk, Mr. Drunk kept reaching for the guitar. Getting it into his grips he proceeded to bang on it loudly until one of the other guys would take it away from him and hand it back to me, flashing a thumbs up.
Apparently, our Pilot was capable of being quite the entertainer himself. While I was back playing tunes on the guitar, he'd taken to showing card tricks to R.. He had a few other slights of the eye up his sleeves and actually managed to keep us enthralled for a few hours. Being the only guests in the place, we managed to gather the whole staff around the table. Naturally, the banana whiskey was still flowing (and still disgusting) as we couldn't possibly offend our new hosts by not drinking with them.
We had an early rise the next morning and the Pilot insisted that we turn in early. Elated we said our goodbyes and were happy to once again prove that the more alcohol and music you have, the less you need those pesky conventional forms of communication like language. I still don't like Banana Whiskey.
The next morning we had a quick breakfast and loaded up for 3-hour ride up the river until we were dropped in Vinh Lohn for our bus to Can Tho. Of course it didn't go off without a hitch. We were surprised to find out the ride up was only an hour. We had to argue and threaten in the end to get our moneys worth. This was a bit tough being that we'd struck the deal with the absent tattooed guy and the Pilot and Mr. Drunk had almost no English skills. Despite the arguing we managed to part ways on a good note. In fact, Mr. Drunk had taken a fancy to my blue sunglasses and asked to trade me for his. I let him keep both as a memento and went on my way.
Off we were to Can Tho where we were to meet a nice Vietnamese girl from Couchsurfing, tour floating markets at dawn, eat rat and make arrangements for our invasion of Cambodia, but that is all for another tale. All in all, the trip was nothing like what we'd expected and for that we were thankful. We'd arranged it ourselves were glad to let the adventures play out as they did. I hope Mr. Drunk remembers us in the morning.
More photos @ Dimakay.fotki.com though I shall be uploading more in the coming days.
