We came up with a tentative plan to move in a clock ward direction through Southeast Asia, and so we booked out flights to Ho Chi Minh City in the north of Vietnam…right? Apparently, we did not start out on the best foot, because about ten minutes after booking the flight, I spoke to my father who reminded me that Ho Chi Minh City (or Saigon, as it’s commonly called), was in fact in the south of Vietnam. Ok! So, we will be traveling in a COUNTER clockwise direction through Southeast Asia! It’s a miracle I can do anything without my father (shameless brownie-point plug). As my departure date approached I became more and more excited, and nervous for some reason. I think the large language barrier is always a bit daunting when looking ahead. I did my damndest to leave as little as possible behind in New Zealand, only really leaving behind my scrubs from work and a boat load of spices that my mother had sent me in the mail…you know, because New Zealand doesn’t have spices like oregano and curry. The night before I boarded my flight I ate the last of my food, and made some snacks for the long flights ahead.
Travel day arrived, and I had a few work items to close off, before packing the last of my things and preparing an overnight bag for the airports, including locks, food, earplugs, eye mask and some toiletries. My landlady, Helen, dropped me off at the airport, and I wasted the next few hours using up my pre-paid minutes to call some friends in Australia.
My first flight was an evening one to Melbourne, Australia. I arrived late and walked around a bit, finding a nice little nesting place in the departure terminal right by the check-in counters. I ate my leftover New Zealand-prepared sandwich of turkey, cheese, and sautéed onions and peas (I had about 1/5th of a bag of peas leftover), which was surprisingly good might I add, before locking all of my bags together, tying them to my body, and donning my eye mask and earplugs. I set my alarm early to wash up, brush my teeth, and check-in at 7am for my next flight to Singapore. The flight was easy enough, though they didn’t provide any food which was shocking! Never fear though, I had packed some bags of nuts and homemade granola, so I wouldn’t have to chew off my neighbor’s arm. The airport in Singapore was nice, though when I arrived I was exhausted after a rocky sleep the night before. I walked through the airport and picked up my bags, making my way out of the exit. I was kind of excited for the Singapore airport, because I had a very long layover there, about 13 hours, and had read that there is actually a city tour that departs from the airport, takes two hours, and drops back off at the airport. What a great idea! I walked around looking for some sort of tour counter, which I found easily enough, but they informed me that the tour actually leaves from INSIDE the arrivals terminal…which I had just walked out. WHAT!? What kind of a technicality was that!? Ug, there was no way I was allowed back inside the terminal to take the tour, so slightly bummed out (but not overly, because I figured there was a high likelihood that I would actually fall asleep on the tour from being so tired), I wasted time by watching Youtube videos and anything else I could do to just make it a few more hours awake. It was only about 5pm at the time, and I knew I had a bit of a time difference to bounce back from when I arrived in Vietnam, so I was hoping to accomplish that along my extended journey there. I finally went up to the check-in area, where I found many people with the exact same overnight idea as me. In the end, I wasn’t able to find an especially comfortable sleeping arrangement, but instead just laid across a row of metal chairs, pulled out my sleeping bag, and prepared for the night in the usual fashion. I seemed to be the only non-local making this move, and people actually came up to me and pointed out that there was a hotel, literally, across the street where I could spend the night. Yes, I was aware of that, but a) I’m too cheap, and b) I had to wake up at like four in the morning anyway, so I wouldn’t have even been able to enjoy it. Granted, it would have been more enjoyable than a row of metal chairs, but back to reason a) I’m too cheap. I set my alarm for 3:50am, and after waking up every hour or so to check and make sure my bags were still all together, my alarm finally chimed. I went to the bathroom as usual to wash my face and brush my teeth, and happened to look up and notice a clock on the wall. Now, normally, I wouldn’t even pay attention to that, but I was struck, because, contrary to you know, COMMON SENSE, there is NEVER is a clock inside of airports. Am I right!?!? Anyway, I noticed it in the mirror, and, once my surprise at its existence subsided, I noticed that it looked like the clock said 4:50am. Now, I hadn’t changed the time on my watch yet, and was strictly relying on my iPhone which SHOULD NORMALLY automatically adjust the time when you get on the internet in a new location, and sometimes even without getting internet. More curious than anything else, I asked a women next to me, motioning to my watch, what time it was, and she said 4:50am. CRAP! I was planning to check in a 4am for my 6am international flight, and now it was 5am!!! I ran out of the bathroom with all of my stuff in tow and beelined it for my check-in counter. Great, there was self-check-in. I tried the machines, but they wouldn’t accept my passport, I assumed because I was so late. I tried to ask for assistance but people were everywhere, and no one spoke English and just smiled, nodded, and ushered me into the main check-in line to wait. I waited and waited as the line moved at a snail’s pace, which of course it only does when you’re late (or only seems to) as the clock seemed to speed up, possibly even using fewer seconds that 60 for each minute! I debated back and forth between being that neurotic traveler who shoves and waves and yells for assistance, and being that neurotic traveler who sits and waits for another flight because I missed mine. The first option. I was finally able to wave down a man, and told him my departure time, to which he just smiled, nodded, and said I’d be fine on timing. What is this? Pre-9/11 travel? Ok, I said, and trusted him, planning in my mind my tirade when the desk attendant later informed me that I had checked in too late. I took a long sigh of relief though when I finally approached the desk and was able to check in without incident. Phew! Crisis averted. I still had enough time to eat a bit before my departure and boarded that easy flight to Ho Chi Minh on time.
Wahoo! I’m here, I’m here! I was very tired when I arrived, but powered through and hopped on the local bus 152 into the city, having to pay for two seats with my big backpack (even though I swear other people with large bags didn’t have to pay extra). There is something called “local” prices and “foreigner” prices, which even locals will admit to openly; I think I got the “foreigner shaft” on that one, paying a whopping 20,000 Dong (aka 92 cents). Off we went, into the city. The ride was easy, and I used the GPS on my phone to track where I should get off. I disembarked a few blocks from my hostel, rearranged my things, and wouldn’t ya know it, my brand new $250 purse that houses my computer BROKE! The zipper came undone! What crap. I did the zipper half way so each side was open, but somewhat fastened in the middle, and made my way in the heat to my hostel, My My Arthouse. Finding it was a bit confusing, but I did remember reading something about an alleyway, so finding a small alley and winding my way through a few streets, I finally found it. It was still quite early in the morning, despite already being “hot as” as the Kiwis and Aussies would say, so when I entered, the attendant was sound asleep on a couch. I tiptoed past, so as to avoid the early check-in fee, and walked up the flight of stairs to the room Nicole had messaged me the night before. I crept open the door and…REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOOOODDDDD!!!!! YEAAAA!!! There was Nicole already awake from the time difference!! We went to hug, at which time I remembered I was dripping in sweat, and Nicole saw that I was dripping with sweat, and we mutually decided to postpone our embrace until after I had taken a good long shower; I needed to wash off the last two days of airports and the recent five blocks, during which I completely sweated?????????????????? through my clothes. I took a shower, we had our official hellos, and set up a game plan for the day. #1) get Kathleen massive amounts of coffee. Oh, wait!! My toys! Nicole had dutifully touted a few things all the way from New York, across the ocean for me, including underwear that cannot be found in Australia or New Zealand, and MY CAMERA!!! I had decided to splurge and buy a fancy camera, so after massive amounts of research and online photography tutorials, I settled on the slim and sleek Sony Alpha 6000. Thank you Nicole for packing an extra bag and carrying it all the way over for me! We packed our bags, and THEN made our way out for Mission #1. Our first stop was actually a tour office where we received a much-needed map of the city and browsed around for some extra ideas during our time there. Our first official stop was the market, which was only a few blocks away, during which time we caught up on all the gossip; well, I caught up on all the gossip, there’s not much gossip in New Zealand. Now, I HAVE to mention one of the most jarring experiences for anyone visiting Vietnam, which I had been somewhat alerted to from a travel Facebook friend who had recently visited Vietnam. I write this while in Laos, and still have never had the “Ho Chi Minh experience” since. Let me preface this by writing that it was the 40th Anniversary of the Reunification of Vietnam (aka end of the Vietnam War). A) We had no idea this was going on when we initially arrived and B) later, an expat living there reported that she had NEVER seen this celebration so crazy in the city (this will come into play later). This is entitled “Crossing the Street in Ho Chi Minh (during the crazy 40th Anniversary of the Reunification of Vietnam)”. My Facebook friend had posted a few things that she had learned during her visit to Vietnam, and one of them was “don’t look when crossing the street”. It didn’t make sense to me at the time, but it did when we attempted to cross the street next to the market, where there was a lot of traffic. There are really no street signs or stop lights in Vietnam (this will also come into play later), so we were kind of hoping for some sort of opening in the traffic, which never came. I mentioned the Facebook comment to Nicole, and thank God we aren’t Country bumpkins, we just started to cross as traffic continued to zoom towards us; just slowly strolled across the street as mopeds, cars, trucks, and buses actually swerved around us. Ok, this is difficult to picture if you are from the US, but normally, when a car approaches you as you cross the street, the driver will slow down to let you pass. In Ho Chi Minh, they do not slow down, they weave; so mopeds will often pass within a few inches of you on both sides. The key is, don’t speed up, don’t slow down, never stop in the middle, and for the love of God, NEVER turn around and go back, that disrupts the incredibly delicate balance between life and death when crossing the road. We held hands as we crossed, looking right, left, forward and backward, and safely made it to the other side. I will write more about some of the traffic “laws” in Vietnam, but suffice to say, there are really no laws, more like “suggestions”. Anyway, we arrived at the market, which mostly consisted of clothes initially, but we continued through and found the food area. Initially, the foods on display looked incredible, making our mouths water, but then we took a deep breath, anticipating delicious foreign smells and were instead hit with the stench of…”I dunno, what is that?” “Garbage?” Perfect timing for a rat to scurry across our path. Oh no. No no no. Could we keep going? Why, yes we could. We trooped on, determined to get an awesome local meal at a food vendor, and meandered through the cramped stalls. We finally found a place with a lot of locals a few aisles down, and made to sit, when the female attendant hustled over shoving menus in our faces and ushering us into metal stools. We asked what her favorite was, and she brought us two glasses of Che Thap Cam, “Tri Colored Sweet”.
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