To Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam

Kady and I bartered with an airport food vendor and a bartender to use up the last of our ringitt. We boarded the plane and in an hour and a half touched down in Ho Chi Minh City, better known as Saigon.

After obtaining our Vietnamese visas, Kady approached a Dutch couple. Her intention was to share a taxi to the center of town to cut costs, but her approach perhaps needs a little work for the sake of sounding... slightly less creepy.

"Do you guys have a hotel room?"

$4 split four ways and twenty minutes later, we piled out of a taxi where a woman offered us a guesthouse. Kady and I are used to blowing off any of these offers because they are typically made my aggressive and annoying men shoving their advertisement placards in your face. But when we heard the price "Twelve dollars", we had to take a look.

We tried to hide our excitement at the prospect of spending a mere six dollars a piece on a room with air conditioning, hot water, and high speed internet. Things were going good. Toooo good. We checked in and that's when I realized I'd been robbed. Right out of the front pocket of my suitcase. Now, this always feels gross- being stolen from; there's no way to avoid taking it personally or feeling violated. But this "robbery" could not have possibly been any more inconvenient. For either party:

I had my ipod; they had the usb cord. I had my camera; they had the charger. I had my laptop; they had all my adapters. I continued to realize annoying things that were also in that bag over the course of the following weeks- advil, running watch, earbuds, bandaids, padlocks. It took me a good twenty four hours to realize they had my phone. Well, jokes on them, the morons. That phone is an antique held together by rubber bands. And the plan is suspended until the 10th of June anyway.

That night, the Dutch couple accompanied us across the street for delicious Indian food and Vietnamese beer- all incredibly priced and delicious.

The night was still young so we crossed the street to enjoy another brew. At a magnificent 50 cents for a 32 ounce bottle.

Then Saigon began to unfurl its freak upon us. A completely random deaf woman who Kady thought was a man approached and Kady had what I suspected was a fake sign language conversation with her for about an hour.




It was... weird. And, as I suspected, mostly fake sign language. Kady gets in good moods and gives people money sometimes. I guess I've never been on her good side during one of these moods.

Then she bought her a beer.

I think at this point the woman was thinking she really better earn that money and beer. So she stayed for another 45 minutes and in the sign language we were all beginning to understand, repeated her advice to be careful and hold your purse close so no one on a motorbike steals it... at least 500 times.

Then they played karate for a little while and started picking each other up.

I then diffused a fight between a drunk British punk and a wiry Vietnamese guy on a motorcycle. The Brit's argument went along the lines of:

"You think my name is (insert expletive) ATM? You think because I'm this color you can treat me like an ATM!?".
His outrage and argument are in many ways similar to my general complaints about being overcharged, just because. However, he was complaining about the price of cocaine.

We topped off our Saigon crash course the next day with a trip to the Cu Chi tunnels (used by the VietCong during war) and what was basically a propaganda museum. When a Brazilian girl asked if it was eye-opening, as an American, to see the other side's perspective, I tried very hard to not respond offensively, especially as I am, after eight hours of hearing "their side", no more educated about the US/Vietnam war than I was before but definitely appreciate having heard things like:

"Like a crazy batch of devils, the USA bombed riverside, chickens, cows, and even innocent people..."
"This American Killer Hero killed 16 Americans..."

"This soldier was awarded medal for award for killing Americans..." and
"This tool, normally used to hunt animals would now be used to hunt American Animals..."

all in an incredibly unbiased Vietnamese monotone.

That night we boarded our first sleeping bus. A bus that has seats that recline into beds.

Kady and I nicknamed it the "concentration camp on wheels". It died in the first two minutes in the middle of an intersection in Ho Chi Minh City- one of the most densely auto-populated cities in the world. A few men climbed off the bus and gave us a push start. Their efforts were met with cheers and we were on our way to Nah Trang, Vietnam for a twelve hour stop over.