To Can Tho

I have little I want to say about Nha Trang. I’m not sure if it was the mosquitos, the all-night pop music, the wind, or its general lack of character, but it never grew on me. I got lonely and bored and found the excessive tourism push and development off-putting. And they’re still advertising the Miss Universe pageant they hosted in 2008…

Yesterday, as a desperate attempt to pick myself up, I opted to pay for a motorcycle driver for a few hours. At first I thought this may redeem my experience of Nha Trang, especially after learning 1 to 10 in Vietnamese and a brilliant ride through the country to a mountain river. But this was before Long decided to change our agreement.

Long and I before the fall-out:

Some pics:

Today I made my way by air and local minibus to Can Tho down in the Mekong Delta.

Despite a slight case of whiplash and feeling slightly conspicuous for the duration of the 4-hour minbus ride , the trip was uncomplicated. I like Can Tho. It feels particularly authentic, doesn’t always speak English and served me a brilliant dinner. Admittedly, I chose the only meal on the menu that had a vague English translation, and admittedly my heart sank when raw beef was delivered to my table without any hint of “Pan” or “Fried”, but subsequently and to my delight, my slices of beef and onion were cooked in front of me, which I then got to roll, with some noodles and some greenery, into my own spring rolls. I’m far more content and suspect a boat trip tomorrow along rivers and canals of the delta will add to this.

I have little else to say. I’m suffering from self-imposed nobody-to-talk-to/share-with-blues and a gigantic (biggest of my life), hopefully-mosquito bite on my bum.

Saigon:

Half my dinner (the other half got ignored because of a near non-existent internet connection):

Market in Can tho:

Hope for conversation has just walked in the hotel door. Some travellers going on the same boat trip with me. Holding thumbs for my own sanity.