Vic Cong

Soldier Vic Cong woke up on time this morning. So much so that he got to check out FIVE different hotels, book a 2 days tour to “somewhere” with a sleepover “somewhere else” for the lovely price of 600.000 Dong (roughly 18 GBP). I will detail in the next days what was included in this package, that cost as much as the bloody taxi ride from Phuket airport to the apartment. I can’t stress enough how much Vietnam in cheaper than Thailand. Most things are HALF the price, and the attitude…oh, THE ATTITUDE! The Vietnamese are so nice and lovely that it is lovely to barter with them and even if you don’t agree on a price they never make you feel like they are treating you like an idiot. They try their luck, sure, but they are not bad at heart, just making a living. The Thai seem to think that most things are owed to them just because things are cheaper in their country than in ours anyway… Some other Thais are nicer, granted, doing the lovely thank you gesture (praying hands and bow) and giving you a smile. But most I met in my shopping experiences were a terrible disappointment. Sorry Thailand but good riddance! Vietnam is so much more my place! I decided that unless the secret police comes to snatch me to put me on the plane I booked, I will not go anywhere near an airport (headed for BKK!!) anytime soon. I am even willing to cut corners on India as long as I can get more Vietnam in exchange! It’s that good!

So after all that, I had time to have breakfast (!) before checking out of my former and checking into my new hotel. And then I did my masterpiece: something I had wanted to do in Seam Reap but missed because of my laziness when it comes to waking up… I got myself a bike and started going RANDOM around Saigon (by the way… Nobody here calls it Ho Chi Minh…). I spent the next few hours driving in the middle of the funniest traffic I have seen in my life. the ratio here is something like 40 moped to 1 car. Or may be 60. Nobody goes faster than, say, 35 Km/h, and yet it all flows splendidly. My only regret was not being able to take all the pics I would have loved to, due to the fact that taking pics while driving is not comfortable, safe or feasible most of the times. But I saw so much! Scooters loaded with the most insanely crazy things, families of 5 on a single bike, funny teenagers who looked at me like a rarity (after 10 minutes of random driving I lost sight of white people, and didn’t see A SINGLE ONE for over 2 hours at some point). I stopped in a number of places, doing a number of things. Eating, refuelling at a gas station, buying another SIM (first one’s speed had been slow down to a crawl) for 70.000 dong (2 GBP!!! With 3 GB included! Sold by a guy who spoke ZERO English – for a solid 5 minutes I thought his “7” communicated via fingers meant 7 gigabytes of data instead of the price), getting lost at every other turn on my way back and not caring, and a number of other things that made me feel alive, adventurous and inquisitive. the best bit was when, back in the main street, I stopped for a Kebab, and a street vendor started offering me “stuff”. I said No. I repeated No. I shook my head. I begged. No… she ain’t moving. I tried to give her money, she tried to ask for the double for a lighter.No. No lighter. No nothing. present. Go. No. No No. She smiled. I asked if she wanted food, she said yes, so I invited her to join me in my kebab+coke combo. she agreed. Rarely do people accept food, that any white person would more than likely gladly pay for them. They prefer money. And yet, here was Dung (pronounced ZOOM), a 30 y.o with a husband and 2 kids, taking a 10 minutes break from harassing tourists, and talking to me over a kebab. And through google translate, cause obviously Zoom did not speak any English. She told me a number of things, I showed her pics of Milan and London and then… she saw ping pong eye. and gave me a diagnosis. On the spot. In vietnamese, through a keyboard. “My sister had the same. You need to cut your eye.” – Just like Dr. Same Same, she knew this was gonna end in blood, and even gave me the address of the hospital (!?). I later checked, before you think I’m going to “make the cut” and google says to wait it out for a couple of weeks before “the cut” – true…I already have 2 professional opinions, but the only one with a medical degree said I “Maybe could be saved” so… I’ll wait. The good part about ping pong eye is that it stopped hurting (placebo effect of the fake antibiotics worked magic), and according to me it’s getting more and more presentable, and that’s enough, as far as I am concerned 🙂 Once back at the hotel, I scored another invitation for a drink from a Vietnamese girl, who told me she actually lived very far from the centre, in a place I hadn’t seen during the day trip. I took the challenge and drove there, went to a cafe and a street food place (no English anywhere, she acted as translator) and then drove back home, only to find that the place where I had rent the bike and become…a restaurant ?!? Why would I care? For the 3.5 GBP I paid to have the bike? Nope. Cause they had my passport and tomorrow morning I am leaving this place! Here’s what happened:

-(Soldier Vic Cong waves at the waiter) Where is Mr.Motorbike?

-Sleep. Tomorrow.

-What are you talking about? Where is he?

-Ahhh. Ok. 10 o’clock.

-What?!? Listen pal, find Mr.Motorbike NOW. He has my passport.

-Ahhh

-Go…do something…

-Ehhh

-Call somebody, I need my passport

-Ok. Manager.

-Yeah, call the manager of this open air barbecue and be helpful

(“manager” arrives)

-Do you speak English?

-Ehhh

-Passport. Mr.Motorbike. Tomorrow.

-No no no… Passport now. Not tomorrow. Wake him up, find him!

-Ohhh. Wait. Talk to mum.

-Mum? WTF?!

-Ok. Me talk. You wait.

-I wait but… PASSPORT

-Ohhh. No problem sir…

(10 minutes go by, waiter and manager keep serving at the tables as if nothing had happened – truth be told “manager” went to talk to someone for 5 seconds, but that was it)

-Hellooooo. Passport?

-Ehhh… no parking here. Move. Passport coming. Mum looking for passport.

-I won’t move this bike from here until I have my passport…

-Ohhh. ok. 1 minute sir

(5 minutes go by)

-GINOOOOO!!!!VOGLIO IL PASSAPORTO!!!! (In Italian)

-Ehhh… 1 minute sir

(waiter comes back and says “Tomorrow. 10 o’clock. Breakfast” – Imagine my face at the word “breakfast’)

-GINOOOOOOO

-Yes sir…coming. Mum. Passport. Here.

(gives me my passport)

-Thank you Gino. Send my regards and his bike to Mr.Motorbike and mum. Here are the keys