Chasing Amy-Lou

Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam:

On my last full day in Ho Chi Minh City I was torn between taking a full day trip down the Mekong Delta where I’d get to see rice paddies and ‘traditional Vietnamese culture’, or having a day of contemplation and reflection by taking an epically long walk around the city. Being cheap, and not wanting to part with any more money, I opted for the latter.

In hindsight I maybe should’ve stuck to the Mekong Delta. At least being surrounded by Asian tourists with telephoto lenses, fifteen umbrellas, and screaming kids with a penchant for getting in the way of everything, on a fully loaded gondola-style boat in the most touristy of places along the Delta would’ve been more entertaining and a lot less heart-stopping than the day I actually ended up having.

I’ll begin with the good stuff. After breakfast I donned my coolest clothes (note: I do not mean my trendiest clothes, I mean clothes that would provide me with the least opportunity to chafe and on which sweat marks would not be as apparent) and set off towards the Notre Dame Cathedral or Nha tho duc ba. I’d been out the door no longer than ten minutes and the sweat began to pour: I’m not talking droplets of sweat, beads of sweat, or as ladies like to call it – perspiration; I’m talking the type of sweat that drips down the walls of your kitchen if you’ve had all four hobs on the boil, the kettle on, the oven baking, the kitchen sink running hot, and the washing machine spinning – I was dripping with condensation. I was condensating!

Anyhow, I resigned myself to the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do about my overzealous bodily functions (if I walked any slower I would’ve been going backwards) and continued on, looking like a rather uncomfortable drowned rat.

I made it to Notre Dame just before lunch time and it was stunning – a perfectly built neo-Romanesque church with two magnificent spires and a gorgeous statue of Our Lady at the front. And then the tourist buses arrived. All fifteen million of them, packed with rabid photo-lens twitchers and eager selfie stick bearers. It became a circus: an immaculate shrine of peace and serenity amid a back drop of chaos and confusion. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck behind a gaggle of semi-professional Chinese photographers while feeling the frustration at not being able to see any of the internal structure without having a camera tripod prodded into my back, so I gazed upwards for a while to soak in the beauty, took my photos, and continued on my way (that was of course, after the obligatory stop off at McDonald’s to use the facilities; rinse the wifi so I could update a blog; and catch my breath before the next sweat induced hike).

My idle meandering led me next through Le Van Tam Park, a cute little area of stillness that had kiddies rides and exercise machines dotted around it. I breathed in the calm of the lush green gardens and then made my way towards the Jade Emperor Pagoda, intent on immersing myself in prayer and burning some incense for Buddha while channeling my inner Taoist.

The temple was teaming with like-minded worshippers when I arrived. It was nearing lunch time and the offerings from devout followers were abundant and loyal. But rather than feel crowded and over-touristy (save from a few uncouth Asian tourists who insisted on posing for photos in front of some of the many Godlike statues while prayer goers and incense burners looked on ), I felt a sense of serenity. I burned my incense, made some requests from the Gods, thanked them for my good fortune, prayed for world peace and made my exit.

Now, something must’ve gone amiss during my visit to the temple; I must’ve burned my incense wrong and said my prayers back to front, or Karma must’ve taken a wrong turn, or my chakras must’ve been disturbed or realigned, or something, because following a long lunch in order to escape the rain (yep, not only was I sweaty-wet, I was also now wet-wet) I decided a walk along the river would be a good idea. Only it turned out not to be.

I’d mapped my route on my newly downloaded ‘map.me’ app and had figured that if I continued in the direction I’d planned I’d be able to cross the river and eventually come full circle, ending up somewhere near the botanical gardens. Oh, if only.

Thinking my idea was failsafe, I crossed the bridge and began walking alongside the river. If my calculations were correct I’d be able to cross back over at the next section and head slowly back into the city. How wrong I was.

As I neared the end of the path, expecting another opening to emerge so I could traverse the murky waters, I noticed there was nowhere else to turn, except that was, down a dingy underpass. So what did I do? I took the underpass. Perhaps not my brightest idea as what happened next disturbed me in a very uncomfortable way indeed.

Walking cautiously through the underpass, bag clenched tightly to my body, I noticed a man in a blue t-shirt scooter past me. At the time I thought nothing of it but as I emerged from the underpass there he was again, although facing me this time. I walked on by, trying to find somewhere to cross the river – turns out there wasn’t another bridge and I had to back-track, walk down a dodgy side road, hop up onto the side of a highway that was not unlike the M6, and cross a busy intersection to get me back on track (stupid ‘map.me’ app). But that was the least of my worries. At the same time as being slightly lost and disorientated, the guy on the scooter continued to follow me, driving past me a number of times and then insisting on turning round to face me and stopping still. I found it kind of creepy and began to get a little nervous, although deep down I knew I’d be ok as there was plenty of traffic around. What I found most repulsive and degrading were the actions of the man while he was sat facing me, waiting for me to walk past. In my head I already knew what he was doing and as much as I wished my guesses to be wrong, as I walked by him my thoughts were confirmed.

“Oh god no, please, just, no”, I thought. But, “Please, just yes!” were probably the only thoughts he was having: the guy was brazenly masturbating, in broad daylight, on a scooter, his willy hanging out, in front of heavy traffic; over little old me!

Never had I ever come face to face with something like this before and I began to feel a slight panic. I felt exposed, disgusted, humiliated, and most of all, alone. The only thing I could think to do was to phone someone who could stay on the line with me while I got away from this disgusting creep. Engaged in grateful conversation and with advice from the other end, I shouted at the perverted bigot on the scooter, took his photo and told him I’d call the police. He soon scarpered, sheepishly may I add, and I was safe once again.

In order to regain my composure and calm myself a little I ducked into a coffee shop to grab a camomile tea before heading back to the hostel. And then the heavens opened once more. And the rain did not stop. At all. Rapturous thunder belted the sky and raindrops pelted the roof of the cafe. I was stuck there. Until a reprieve in the rain, I was stuck.

I eventually managed to get myself back to the hostel, albeit literally looking like a drowned rat this time. And after a bit of a lie down, a little contemplation, and a hot shower, I went for my last taste of Ho Chi Minh street food, had a couple of beers, and hit the sack.

My final day in this part of the country hadn’t quite gone as I’d planned. And thinking about it now, I probably should’ve gone with the Mekong Delta instead.