Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam:
After being in transit for what felt like an age, three flights and 18 hours later I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City; exhausted, in need of more than two hours interrupted plane sleep, and dying for a hot shower and a massage.
Prior to making a decision on how long I wanted to stay in the country and therefore whether or not I’d need to apply for a visa, I’d taken it upon myself to read the many online stories about the queues at passport control and immigration. Some specifying horrific waits, especially at Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon), the busiest airport in Vietnam. But as I disembarked and made my way to the customs desk I was pleasantly surprised to find not only small-ish queues, but very organised queues at that. And there was no panic, not like I’d been led to believe anyway. Granted, the wait for those in line did seem a little laborious (imagine standing in a British Post Office queue at lunch time when old Barbara from down the road is trying to draw her pension but has forgotten her stamp book), so I was more than happy that I’d chosen to apply for a 30 day visa and to employ an agent to arrange it for me (at a small fee, of course), and I had my shiny new Vietnamese visa sticker and my passport stamped in no time at all.
Baggage claim was straightforward too. Although I’m sure I remember my bag being less heavy on my shoulders than it was when I wrenched it from the carousel and threw it on my back. I may have to take another ruthless look at my packing before long; carrying a dead weight across five countries over the next two months could just about cripple my already ageing body.
With my luggage all ready and my bearings grasped I proceeded to draw some local currency from one of the ATMs. I was positive that I’d been ripped off in transaction fees, but I couldn’t complain, the whole process so far had been a lot less stressful than I was expecting. And even the bus was easy to find – right outside the exit – a bright yellow thing with the number 109 emblazoned across it. I purchased my ticket from the ticket booth directly next to the bus which at 20,000 Dong was pretty damn cheap, and before midday, I was on my way to the centre of Ho Chi Minh city in a comfortable air conditioned bus!
The ride was interesting: along with witnessing the bus almost crashing into a taxi (I couldn’t possibly say who’s fault it was as both drivers appeared to be pretty erratic, and the traffic appeared to have little or no flow), I got to see a little of Ho Chi Minh. Before long, the friendly conductor came and told me it was my stop and I hopped off and trudged the short distance to my hostel. When I say short, I actually meant long, as the walk itself felt like a hike with the weight of my bloody backpack (I must remember to fix that). Nevertheless I arrived, slightly sweaty and disheveled, and in need of rest. However, as I went to check-in I was told my room was no longer available and they’d be taking me to their sister hostel round the corner. Having heard dodgy stories about these kinds of things I was a little wary, and more so when a guy turned up on a scooter and told me to hop on the back while he put my rucksack between his legs. Erm…slight panic. But hey, this was Vietnam after all, and the guy behind the desk was very apologetic, and I was up for an adventure, so I placed my trust in Mr Scooter Man and away we went.
Turns out I needn’t have worried. The new hostel was great, the staff friendly and Mr Scooter Man even carried my bag to my fifth floor room for me. Finally, I had arrived!
Following a failed attempt to get some sleep I had a shower and proceeded to try and navigate my way to the famous Ben Thanh market. Bearing in mind, traffic is crazy in Ho Chi Minh, and as I tried to weave my way through the swarms of scooters and dangerous drivers honking their horns, and the crowds of people not caring if six billion vehicles were coming at them at 100mph, I had to stifle a laugh at the chaos of it all.
Ben Thanh is a market. A market, I assume, like any other market in South East Asia – over-crowded, full of knock-off tat, noisy, and claustrophobic. So feeling like I really didn’t need to stay there any longer than ten minutes as there was nothing of note that I wanted to purchase anyway, I bartered for a tub of fresh mango, went and bought a camomile tea from McDonald’s and had a bit of a sit down.
The evening panned out with a nice meal in a restaurant called Secret Garden (it’s highly rated on Trip Advisor, and you have to venture down a back alley and climb about a million flights of stairs to get to it but it was worth it, so check it out). Not wanting to experiment too much with the delights of the Vietnamese cuisine (I was saving that for the street food), I opted for some stir-fried pork and a local beer. And at 120,000 VND (7 Aud or 4 GBP), I felt satisfied that I hadn’t overspent; I had a full belly, and was ready for bed.
With heavy eyes and an exhausted mind I returned to the hostel, popped a herbal sleeping tablet and waited for the uninterrupted nights sleep. All in all a successful first day in this crazy city.
Chasing Amy-Lou 