Bangkok and home.

Well, I guess I kind of bailed on this little project - days of laying on the beach with out anything to report got me out the habit of blogging and I totally missed reporting on our last days in Bangkok. Koh Chang was wonderfully laid back and, strangely, was difficult. After 10 weeks of hard traveling it was wierd to not travel every couple of days. We did, however, manage. 

Bangkok was, well, Bangkok. We shopped a bit, went for one small trip on the water buses, ate, drank and lay around the pool at our hotel. Getting from Koh Chang to Bangkok was without problems, as was the trip to the airport, so you didn't miss much in that regard.

And now we are back in Canada. I hope we conveyed a bit or how much fun and adventure we had, but now we are back to the real world. So 'til next time......

That's all, folks!

Koh Chang

Two weeks on Koh Chang, after flitting all over Southeast Asia, about 28 different places altogether, so two weeks in one place has me (Kim) about one step up from comatose and I have to admit I did fight it initially. Never having been an avid bird watcher, I wondered how do they do it, siting in the forest or jungle all day, looking for birds, my only real source of bird watching info had come from reading a book several years ago, called Rare Birds and it was a comical farce albeit a good read nothing really about specifics on bird watching. Yet sitting on the hammock, yes sitting, it took me a few days actually the better part of a week to master "laying " on the hammock. Oh ya birds, I discovered that in fact it is quite entertaining and interesting watching the birds yet more enthrallling is listening to them. The birdsong  out our front door is so alive and varied and incredibly beautiful and constant that I find myself sitting listening for hours, like I would a new cd.

Being able to get into a book and read it from cover to cover in one day is a treat unto itself, you don't have to be in an exotic place to enjoy that.... But it helps.

To walk a white sand beach and float on your back in an ocean as warm as a bath, indulge in a Thai massage...daily..... Right out your front door, for 2full weeks.....there is even a food stand with fabulous coconut shakes, yes, served in the coconut that are so delicious and I've had so many I'm starting to look like a coconut......sounding hard to take, I have to admit after being so "on the road" it took me a bit to settle in, however I think I've done it. 

And that's been about it other than cleaning Lou at crib, yes I have to admit he has been cleaning me in Bananas ( a scrabble like game) 

Going to the market for groceries, we have a make shift kitchen and it's been nice to market shop and do meals on our own.

I forgot to mention the sun sets right in front of us, if we are at the beach and it is a bewitching hour,watching day turn to night, each night it is different, the sea is different, the clouds are formed differently or non existent on a certain day and the life around you varies, yet the sun shifts it's colour gently at first then starts falling and before I know it, it's a ball of fire sinking into the sea and I think to myself that was so mystical and in theory I know what just happened, yet I better make sure I watch again tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that.....

I know our adventure as we named it is coming to an end...this time next week we will be on a plane and heading home, I'm barely ready, but ready. Upon arrival home I look so forward to seeing my family and all my close friends, because I have missed the intimacies I share with you, what I will miss most here is having to share Lou with all of you again, I didn't think I would ever be able to be 24/7 as the saying goes, with anyone, and we have had brief bits on own, yet my most remarkable memories are just that here we were.....

Souveniers

Each one of these bracelets represents a town or city we spent at least one night in,28 in total, I think. Unfortunately swimming and perspiring led them to smell abit thus now are just a memory.......it was fun while it lasted

Koh Chang images

 

Disclaimer

I imagine that when I write about our days of travel, with everything that goes sideways, the services that are anything but, the long hours and frustrations, readers must think I complain, am unhappy, disgusted with the time we are spending here. Anything but. To be sure, it can be trying. But in fact I am expressing my amazement that what I have seen to this point in my North American life as a simple, everyday experience - public transit - can be so completely fucked up. The towns we have visited, the people we have met, the lessons communities have revealed, and yes, the crazy, offensive, haphazard way in which the locals deem to move we Farang around in their countries are all part of a piece. At the end of these travel days I am in a funk. It is stressful. Though as I reflect, the memories of this trip that stand out most, and are the most humorous, are those days on which I have dwelt in this blog the longest. Not pretty, but without a doubt, some of the best. If what I have written would deter anyone from coming this way, then I have missed the mark. It all has been a total hoot. 

Koh Chang

It's pretty nice. The 12' wide French doors of our one room cottage face west, out past our deck over the water and across the lagoon. While this side of the water is a scattering of cottages in a managed garden that looks very much like a jungle, the other is the real thing. With first light the Cicadas roar. The din will only last 20 minutes, but it is an impressive 20 minutes. Leaving our rooms there is a sand path leading toward the ocean which gives way to a boardwalk over the lagoon, and finally a pontoon bridge across the lagoon to the sea side. The first thing you notice when you hit the beach is that the white sand is so fine, it doesn't feel like sand, it feels more like talc, a bundle of silk at your feet. As I write, I sit beneath an almond tree, who's small, white, lilac scented blossoms litter the beach around me. At six in the morning the air is just slightly cooler than the 29 degree water, but that will not last long - by midday the air wil be in the mid thirties. The avian life here is stunning and at this time of day virtually the only sounds you will hear are bird song and surf. Along the 4 km of beach no more than a dozen souls have stirred. The Gulf of Thailand laps gently at the shore. On either side of the Blue Lagoon beach are larger, European built resorts and their patrons seem to find the bustle of the town more appealing. The few who do come to the beach pretty much remain on the sand in front of their rooms. For the few of us who stay a Blue Lagoon, the beach is often wonderfully lonely.

Blue Lagoon is owned and run by a welcoming Thai family who - compared to all the other family run guest houses we have patronized this trip - totally get what westerners expect in a resort vacation. They are open and accommodating. The cottages, while rustic, are clean and well furnished and spaced about the grounds so that one never feels that they imposing on, or being imposed on by, their neighbour. The grounds are a beautiful jungle garden - tall banana, banyan, betal and tamarind trees, many in bloom, shade flowering undergrowth. Even in the midday heat it is wonderfully cool under the canopy and there is a constant whisper of staff sweeping away the jungle litter. All the paths are simple dirt tracks in the wood.

Days are spent reading and swimming on the beach - where there is a canteen selling simple foods and frosty beverages - kayaks are available, there is a shaded bocci court and any island recreation can be booked at reception. While I agree that those are fairly standard offerings, there are others that are not. Every Friday evening a BBQ is held at the restaurant. All the staff and guests gather, prepare a meal and eat together. The market cost of the food is shared by all who participate. Two of the current guests are professional musician and this Sunday will perform for all to enjoy.

It may be difficult to find material for this blog over the next couple of weeks - I mean, who in Canada right now wants to read, over and over, "yes, another honey scented day mooched in off the gulf.....", but should anything of note arise, I'll be sure to report it.

Surprisingly, we have yet to dine here.

Koh Rong

After a night in Shit-hole-oukville (not entirely sure if that spelling is correct) we caught the 8:30 fast boat for the one hour trip to Koh Rong, a Cambodian island in the Gulf of Thailand. The largest island in the Koh Sdach Archipelago, Koh Rong is alone iamong the islands in sporting modest tourist accommodations and services. In 2000, developers proposed and made plans for massive developments on the island including a ring road and large resorts which would be sited at all the beaches on the island. The fact that there is almost no water on the island, all power is derived either through generators or solar, and there is no place to put the waste so many people would create have those plans pretty well at a standstill. 

As a result, Koh Rong remains an under serviced (there is often no water available at the resorts and power is only available when the generators are on - from 9 am through midnightish), backbacker enclave. There is a small "town" which lies just north of the pier at the south east end of the island. Here one finds almost all of the resorts - most rambling collections of thatched huts off the beach and a restaurant/bar beachside. Many of the staff at these resorts are young westerners who swap a place to sleep, food, a small bar tab and tips so that they can extend their stay on Koh Rong.

Kim and I stayed at Co Co's, a resort associated with Koh Rong Dive Centre and located just off the beach directly opposite the pier. Hut number 13 sported an en suite cold water bathroom, two double beds and a hammock on the front porch. Perfect.

On our first fully day, while Kim explored the beaches, I enjoyed a day of diving - two, hour long dives in corral reefs off a neighbouring island. Day two Kim and I spent snorkelling in the reefs off Koh Rong. In the evenings we dined and shared the company of other travellers at the bar at our resort. In between we lay on the beach, read, talked, and enjoy the occasional frosty beverage. Hmmmmmm.

Today we travel to Koh Chang, the penultimate stop of our Southeast Asia adventure.

Photos of our digs on Koh Rong, as well as some of the sights.

In a land where intestinal disorders from bad food are rampant, is this wise?

Sihanoukville to Koh Chang. Almost.

So, here we sit at the bus station in Trat. Was it in our plans to stop at the bus station in Trat? Noooo, dear reader. Then "why are you there?" you might ask. I'll tell you.

Things were going swimmingly when we began our day's travels. We arrived with time to spare at the Koh Rong Dive Centre in Sihanoukville, the pick up point for our bus to Koh Chang. A first for our travels so far, the bus arrived exactly on time to pick us up. A shabby old wreck? No sir. A newer, spacious, air conditioned, king of the road motor coach. We toured Sihanoukville picking up fellow travellers and, but for a little hold up at the bus station waiting for a late-comer, we got on the road to the border in good time. We fairly sped to the border, through small towns, rural areas, and a vast and beautiful national park. So comfortable was the ride, we alternated between sight seeing and snoozing, each in splendid comfort.

Upon arrival at the border, we disembarked the motor coach and walked through both the Cambodian and Thai border controls. We ended up spending a little extra on the exit from Cambodia to speed our transit, something our fixer promised and delivered on. On the Thai side we sat. In the sun, and waited. For what? Well, for enough other suckers to arrive at the border, pay their fixer for a speedy exit, and then sit in the sun on the Thai side. It's not a busy crossing.

Eventually (about two hours), enough people who were both crossing the border and heading to Koh Chang were ready to board the comfy mini van that would whisk us away. We were directed to load our bags in the back of the van. Kim loaded hers in early but one of people who appeared to be directioning the loading grabbed Kim's bag out and put it on the ground directly behind the van, gruffly indicating that she should leave it for him to load after the larger bags were in. He directed us to find a seat in the van.

Anyone see where this is going? 

It was delightfull trip to Trat where the the ferry terminal for Koh Chang is located. We stopped to transfer to another van that would run us to the ferry, aaaaand, Kim's bag has not made the journey.

There ensued much discussion on the road side, phone calls to the fellow who had directed the loading of the van, debate between the two van drivers at the scene, and finally a plan was formulated. The fellow who had loaded the van agreed that he may have a yellow back pack, and if we were to wait at the bus station in Trat he may send the back pack to the station within the next couple of hours. But really, the situation we found ourselves in was nobody's fault but our own as, after being told to allow him to load the bags and get in the van, we should have then ensured it got loaded. Right?

Thai culture dictates that the worst failing one can display are angry out bursts, it brings shame to the person making such a display and embaresse all who wittiness it. So I suppose screaming at the pin head on the phone then kicking our driver in the nuts was out of the question (writing this is very therapeutic). So here we sit at the bus depot. Waiting.

I'll catch you up later.

********

Wow! As I write Kim's bag has arrived! Off to Koh Chang. We will just make the last boat.

********

As we very foolishly allowed the fellow loading the bags not to load the bags (?????), our onward tickets from Trat to the ferry were no longer valid. A songtau driver at the bus station assured us that, once our bag arrived he would deliver us to the terminal. With our bag finally in hand he dashed to his vehicle to come and gather us. For the uninitiated, a songtau is a small pick up truck with two narrow, 5' long benches on either side of the truck bed. As our driver pulled around we noted with some concern that there were already 12 travellers in the back of the truck. With their luggage. They did not pack light. I ended up standing on the back step of the truck for the high speed, 40 minute run to the terminal.

Well, almost the terminal. We stopped about ten minutes from the terminal at, again, a meagre, roadside canteen in order to purchase tickets for the ferry. And sat. For what? Who knows. I assume it was so that we could avail ourselves of the high quality victuals on offer (not). We were told that, when the time was right a bus would come to deliver us to the terminal. A bus. They told us several time that a bus would come.

At about quarter to 7:00 (the ferry was scheduled to leave at 7:00) we were all directed to load our gear into the self same songtau that delivered us from Trat, though this time there were 16 travellers. This time I got to share the back step with luggage.

But we made the ferry. Turns out that for many islanders who had traveled to Trat that day, the whole 7:00 pm departure thing didn't work for them, so we sat. This time on the ferry. Around 8:00, the ferry began the 40 min trip to Koh Chang. Island side, we again over loaded a clapped out songtau and travelled down the coast, dropping quests at there lodgings as we went. Finally we arrived at Blue Lagoon. One of the staff was getting married and the reception was at the far end of the island and all of the staff were at the reception. All of them. There was a note posted to the door of the reception area addressed to us and informing us that our room was ready. It's dark. There is no map and the bungalows are placed haphazardly around the broad grounds. With the help of some of the long term guests, a few calls to the owners, and 45 minutes, we found our room.

We did pretty well. For a trip billed as 5.5 hours, it only took us twelve. Thank all the gods that we only have one travel day left on our journey, the short run to Bangkok.

Blue Lagoon is quickly turning the stress of our travels into a distant memory, and I tell about it in future posts.

Phu Quoc to Sihanoukville and Koh Rong

Be forewarned. This was the travel day that very nearly sent us over the top. I will go into it in some (I hope entertaining) detail, but please don't feel compelled to read what may very well become this blog's War and Peace, in both length and theme.

It began with such promise. The young woman staffing the travel office was a delight. Much more friendly that your average Veitnamese entrepreneur, fluent in English and full of concern for our comfort during our travels. A simple request. We would like to travel from Phu Quoc to Sihanoukville that we may engage a boat to take us to Koh Rong. The solution equally simple. A passenger van would pick us up at our resort and deliver us to the wharf serviced by the Super Dong (I feel like we should have some Star Warsy "Ba, Ba, Ba, Baaaaaaa" music when I type that) which would carry us to Ha Tien at the Vietnam/Cambodia boarder, a passenger van to take us from that harbour to the border crossing, an air conditioned motor coach to take us to Sihanoukville. Easy.

There are a number of boats that service Phu Quoc, the queen of these the Super Dong (Ba, Ba, Ba, Baaaaaa), a slick, spacious fast boat with a large after deck perfect for sunning. There are also "pencil" boats, nasty and slow with, inexplicably, the seats buried in the bilge and the windows placed a foot and a half above your head. There are also the 8 hour transit fish boats. Obviously, the Super Dong (play music) is more expensive but we were feeling flush and asked, several times, that we have the SD (music). Absolutely, we were assured, to be followed by a modest but air conditioned passenger van which would deliver us to the border, followed by a motor coach sporting comfortable, reclining seats and air conditioning which would whisk us in ease to Sihanoukville, Cambodia. All for $28 per person? Are you kidding me? This sounds to good to be true!

Right. Let's explore what happened.

On the morn of our departure a passenger van arrived to gather us within 45 minutes of the agreed upon time (read, "after"). This gave me pause as the SD (music) departed at 8:00 am and we were picked up at 7:35. Tight, but still, it is only a 20 minute trip from our resort to the SD (OK, I'll stop). Fifteen minutes to spare, right? A kidney crushing 45 minutes later over what could only generously described as road we arrived in a small, narrow laned village and ordered (yes, I mean ordered) out of the van. Before us a 500 meter, 3' wide concrete pier leading to, you guessed it, an idling "pencil" boat. What do you do? Find a way back to town to give the travel lady a severe reprimand? Kill a few innocent villagers? Get on the boat? Right. Get on the boat.

A special feature of the pencil boat is a large flat screen TV on which is aired really bad Hollywood gangster films that no one has ever heard of, dubbed into Khemer by a single woman's voice and the volume set to "ear damage". There are no outside decks.

We did, along with many other travellers, arrive at Ha Tien. We were met at the port gates by a young man holding a card which listed seven travellers. The reception area was crowded with tourists and smart new mini vans and drivers holding cards. Quite quickly passengers were gathered and hustled into vans to be sped, in air conditioned comfort, to their next destination. Our guide led our group to a nearby, meagre, street side canteen. Where we sat. In the sun. For an hour. Our guide, who spoke remarkably good English while corralling us to the canteen, somehow completely lost that ability when pressed as to why we, among all the many travellers who disembarked the boat, were left to bake in the late morning sun.

But a van did eventually arrive. A shiny new 9 seater Ford - in 1973. Today, this dented, rusted out piece of rolling scrap metal ran, but that concludes the list of up-sides. There was ten minutes of banging, slapping and kicking in an effort to get the back hatch open so that we could load our luggage. Once loaded, the back hatch wouldn't remain closed. That took a few minutes. I thought to my self, "will we have the same dance trying to get our gear out?". OK, off to the border. No air conditioning but as the roads are so dusty the driver insisted the windows remain closed. That could have been an issue had it not been a five minute drive. We could have walked in twenty minutes rather than sitting at that canteen, but hey, we've got time, right? And more bashing and banging to get our gear out.

The fixer in this crew disappeared with our passports (and our money) as we moved into the border control offices. Tourists don't deal directly with immigration officials at these borders as there are negotiations with the officials regarding how much a visa costs on this particular day (based, I think, on what pressing costs may have arisen at home) and a common language is essential. The speed with which one moves through border control depends on how much of the money you have given the fixer he is willing to share with the border control officer. In our case, our fixer was clearly tight fisted as, for almost two hours, group after group, just like ours, were brought by their fixer into border control and quite quickly led into Cambodia and waiting vehicles. I would have loved to have raised a ruckus but I wasn't going to do that with the border officers and I did mentioned our fixer disappeared, yes?

Actually, at this point I have, to my shame, lost my cool. I may have been heard to utter, "you have got to be fucking kidding me", a couple of times. Loudly. But Kim calmly pointed out that this sort of stuff can happen while travelling in Southeast Asia and that I should cool my jets. I will have great fun with this later.

Eventually we passed through the border and were led to a much newer passenger van, I think from the '75-'76 model years. While the back hatch worked there was no air conditioning. By this time the outside temperature is in the mid thirties and, again, the driver does't want to get dust inside such sweet a ride and insists we keep the windows closed. In an uplifting display of democracy in action, we held a vote and "screw you" came out ahead and all the windows of the van were promptly and fully opened. Our driver did not receive the result graciously.

If you've been keeping track, our itinerary called for a motor coach from the border to Sihanoukville -a two hour drive - and we all assumed our van was taking us to the bus station. Nope. We flew down Cambodian country roads, past rice fields and salt making operations until we reached Kep. Stopping at the depot in the centre of town, our driver happily announced we could now go into the canteen and enjoy lunch. He seemed a bit taken aback when we travellers insisted that we did not want lunch, we wanted to go to Sihanoukville. But service is what these guys are all about, so he hustled us all back in the van and set off a great speed back the way we had come. Away from Sihanoukville. WTF I thought. After a few kilometres, he pulled off the road and several Khemers dragged over five gallon drums of fuel and gased us up.  Our driver took this opportunity to walk around the van and close all the windows.  Then, again at great speed, he returned to the depot to pick up two other passengers who had been at the depot when we first visited but who, I guess, didn't feel like having a ride to get gas. "Fuck me" I thought. I may have used my outside voice.

But now, gased up, everyone on board, windows wide open (there was another vote), off to Sihanoukville, yes? Not so much. Seems the new passengers are going to Kampot, soooooo.....

Once we got to Kampot our driver deposited us on a street corner, closed his windows, and left. A strange absence of buses but I am sure time will cure that. After being left in the dark as to what would happen next and being ignored by the Khmer, and listening to the animated discussions going on among said Khmer, I asked about our future travel. Turns out the discussion was not about the US military's use of drones as I had assumed, but regarding how many of poor saps they could squeeze into a mid sized, five seater sedan. This is a car with a console between the front two seats and room for a snug three in the back seat. So, obviously, we will put six of us in the car. Plus the driver. And our gear. The conversation that followed was lively. For our part, we argued safety and comfort and were deemed unreasonable. After much back and forth, we settled on three as a number and, strangely, all agreed. Something didn't feel right about this. Regardless, we feel it has worked out and Kim and I and Katie, a twenty something German tourist (heretofore know as " the innocent bystander") go to get in the car. For comfort, we decide two in the back, one in the front. No. Another ten minute discussion ensues until finally we fold. OK, all three of us get in the back.

We have been dicking around on this corner for nearly an hour but now we are on our way, each of us wondering why we can't have one of us sit in the front. After driving exactly 50 feet, the car pulls over and a Khmer woman hops in the front. Ah. 

As we discuss with Katie what a terrible trip this had been, she comments that she doesn't feel it was worth the $23 she paid the very same woman on the very same day for the very same trip that we had paid $28. Is that salt I feel being rubbed in?

As you will recall, I had lost my cool earlier in the day but the sage words of my sweet Kim drew me back from the abyss. Do you also recall I said I would have fun with that? Here it comes.

On the outskirts of Kampot we pull over again outside a hospital, and without a word of explanation we sit. And sit. Eventually, and likely somewhat testily, I remind our driver we want to get to Sihanoukville. He points out that this is not a private rental, but should be thought of more like a bus, stopping here and there for various, sometimes murky reasons. This discussion goes on for sometime, until the driver opens the door and helps a very elderly woman (he's no spring chicken himself) into the driver's seat and then attempts to sit on her lap! We explode in the back seat telling him there is no way he is driving to Sihanoukville in that arrangement. He finally agrees but is clearly not happy. He and grandmother get out and go around to the passenger side. In order to make room for the two women in the passenger seat, he releases the seat glide lock and violently shoves the seat back, crashing it into Katie's shins. The two women get in and our driver returns to he seat. Kim starts ripping him a new one about slamming the seat into Katie's legs.

We should pause here for some back ground in Khmer culture. While in Cambodia one must remember that feet are view with disgust. When sitting it is impolite to point your feet at others, anyone with any social graces would never be found with their feet on a chair, and to point your feet at the Bhudda while in supplication is tres verboten. I don't think I could write a string of invective that would fully capture the spite, the disregard, the hatefulness that would be expressed by jabbing ones feet at another in anger. We have been in Vietnam for a month where no such custom is held. Kim has forgotten all about this.

Back to our story. We are now driving. Kim is still ripping the driver a new one, who is none to please to be spoken to so, when Kim snaps, " well, how do you like this" and, one after another, slams both feet onto the console and into the front seat area. Well. You think the shit hit the fan about the sitting on a lap and driving thing. All three Khmer explode in offence and fury. The driver is trying to turn around and has his arm cocked to strike Kim. Both Katie and I are making cooing, settle down noises, and after a bit tempers have cooled. We were able to reach Sihanoukville with all accounted for.

What fun. Just as advertised on Phu Quoc.

Sihanoukville is a bit of a shit hole, dirty, party town, but that is OK. We arranged our transit to Koh Rong and to Koh Chang, ate, drank, rented a room and went to sleep.

As I write I am laying in a hammock on our porch of our thatched hut on Koh Rong. Later, I will tell you all about it.

 

   

Phu Quoc.

Before we venture into the bliss that is Phu Quoc, a note on the trip from Can Tho.

The road that leads from Can Tho to Rach Gia, the port of departure for Phu Quoc, apart from being the only paved road between the two major centres, is a narrow two lane strip of asphalt with no paved verge. Lining the entire 120 km are houses and store frontages. It is, in effect, a very long main drag as would be seen in any busy town in Vietnam with about 20' separating the opposing frontages. Populating this strip are pedestrians, bicycles, motos, cars and SUVs, trucks of every utility and, the king of the road, our massive Hyundai passenger coach. It is BUSY. As our coach boomed down the middle of this narrow, crowded lane, all other travellers were forced to get the hell out of the way, with the obvious, shit running down hill effect - as other larger vehicles move to the verge as we pass, smaller vehicles are forced to follow suit.

I felt badly at one point as we over took a fellow on his moto. The strategy employed by our driver was to get the nose of the bus just ahead of whatever vehicle we were about to pass and then move sharply back into the right hand lane, forcing the over-taken vehicle to either brake or bounce off the side of the much bigger bus. This fellow was having difficulty with the manoeuvre because, as he was driving his moto down this insanely busy road, HE WAS TEXTING! What could go wrong.

We were, however, able to reach Rach Gia without carnage.

We boated to Phu Quoc via the Super Dong III.

Phu Quoc has, for the bulk of the last 150 years, been a penal colony, first under the French colonial forces, later operated by the South Vietnam government and the US military, and finally (currently) by the reunified Vietnamese government. A large island, most of its coast is fringed with white sand beaches. Poor land for agriculture as a result of a very arid climate, over the last couple of decades a tourist industy has evolved. There are several stand alone resorts sited around the island, though the main action is a 5 km strip running south from the main town of Duong Dong. This, however, is about to change. The entire west coast of the island (about 40 km in length) is plastered with billboards announcing massive beach side resorts. At this point the island still pastoral, but if you are coming, get here soon.

We stayed at the Moon Resort, a scruffy collection of thatched cottages just off the beach, open at the gables (better for the rats to get in) with cold water (OK, air temperature water, which is pretty warm) for the shower and a lovely little front porch from which we could catch a glimpse of the ocean. Our hosts were warm, the air temperature was 30 + and the water temperature a constant 29 degrees. We wandered the town, visited the markets, I had three dives, we swam often, read on the beach and we found the cure for all infectious diseases. OK, almost all of those things.

Don't want to brag, but.....

Phu Quoc (pr. "few co").

Can Tho

Can Tho is spread along the Can Tho and Mekong rivers, about half way between HCMC and the Gulf of Thailand, if one travels south west. The largest city and the economic heart of the Delta south of HCMC, Can Tho is largely a bustling city with a tiny touristy area along eight blocks of the waterfront. One is unlikely te encounter a European anywhere else in town. Tourism-wise, Can Tho's claim to fame is the largest floating fruit and vegetable markets on the Mekong and is a popular location for home stays - rather than a hotel, tourists will reside in a village with a Vietnamese family.

As the purpose of our stop here was to take the early morning boat trip down the Can Tho river to the floating markets (OK, it was actually to break up the journey from HCMC back to the salt water and beaches and diving and snorkelling and sun bathing and .....), we stayed a a hotel in the tourist area close to the docks. Our boat trip began at 5:30 am as we boarded a 10', wooden, very well used, long tail skiff. Out pilot spoke no English, and as there was no beer on board there was no point in breaking out my entire Vietnamese vocabulary (beer please, thank you). Despite our lack of common language, a muddle of "Hey's", head shakes, pointing and smiles got us through the day. The long tails are not speedy craft so it was a wonderfully lazy, 7 1/2 hour cruise down the Can Tho, with long side trips to the floating markets and through tiny canals far into the rural farm lands. We stopped for a tour of a rice noodle factory as well as a long lunch at some sort of plantation (no fruit on the trees so we couldn't tell what the crop was) before our return to town. A very relaxed and worthwhile adventure.

Later, we wandered the town's night market snacking on street food before a sit down restaurant dinner and drinks. 

Today we travel west by minibus, bus, shuttle, fast-ferry and taxi to Phou Cuoq Island, a bit of Vietnam in the Gulf of Thailand.

A trip down the Can Tho River, our boat, the floating market, Ho Chi Minh and the front door of our rooms in Can Tho.

Ho Chi Minh City

Upon arrival in HCMC we again found a hotel recommended by Lonley Planet and it was another keeper. Rooms just fine but the staff exceptional. We had planned to stay three nights and the hotel only had rooms for two nights, but we figured we would find another room for our third night. However, after reading up on the touristy stuff to do in HCMC, we figured we could take it all in in one day and be on our way.

HCMC is a very large (13+ million souls) and spread out over many miles. The old city - District 1 - is quite densely populated yet enjoys many very beautiful parks. There are some excellent examples of French Colonial architecture and many of it's modern buildings are impressive. The traffic is mad and the drivers far more aggressive than those in any city we have visited so far. While we have had ample experience with Vietnamese drivers trying to edge past inches in front of our feet, when push comes to shove they have, til now, ceded right of way rather than run us down. That desire to avoid a collision appears substantially diminished in drivers from HCMC, as evidenced by torn up fenders on each of the thousands of city cabs and the many street side auto repair shops rebuilding the front ends of motos.

Using the LP walking tour map, Kim and I set out earlyish Wednesday morning. Our route took us to, the Bitexco Finacial tower - 289 metres tall with a viewing platform on the 49 floor boasting panoramic views over all of HCMC, but for the smog- the Siagon River, a small street market deep in the old Cholon district, the Siagon Opera House, the People Commitee Building, the City Post Office (a very beautiful French colonial affair), a very swank avenue with stores selling all the top designer brands, a statue of Ho Chi Minh in a lovely little park (the statue is called "Bac Ho", and I really dug it) and a few other buildings of note.

After the walking tour we also took in the War Remnants Museum. As with the Killing Fields, this is tough to comment on, but is certainly a must if in HCMC.

Latish in the afternoon we returned to our rooms and joined a small group of fellow travellers on the balcony for frosty refreshment. The first round wiped out our hotel's ice supply so I was dispatched to a bar around the corner for beer and ice. While there, I struck up a conversation with the expat American owner, Marc, regarding the many beautiful guitars hanging on the walls of his pub. I played his very nice, '71 Guild, though I did not recognize the logo on the other guitars. Marc informed me that they were the creation of a HCMC luthier, Nguyen Van Binh, and with the exception of the Guild were new and for sale. I played a few and returned with the ice. A few minutes later I returned to Marc's pub and, long story short, I am now the proud owner of a brand new, handmade Binh guitar, solid Koa sides, back and neck, solid spruce top, rosewood everything else, great sound and playability, in a case, for less than a good hard shell case would cost in Canada. Whoooo!

Returning to our balcony, folks wanted to see and hear the new guitar, so I played a few songs which the two young folks running the hotel overheard. Til late in the evening I was trying to meet their requests of songs they wanted to hear and sing along with, though sadly I know few songs by Air Supply, Cilene Deon, and Micheal Buble. They were, however, happily introduced to Blue Rodeo and Elvis, and we found common ground singing Eagles tunes. As we waited for our taxi this morning, the staff again requested I play some songs and all pulled out their iPhones to record the event. I tell you, I'm a fricking rock star in HCMC.

We are on our way to Can Tho, a city on the Mekong Delta, and a stop on our way back to the beach (two more sleeps).

Various walking around HCMC photos.

Front yard at the War Remnants Museum.

OK everyone. I'm sure there is a killer funny title for this post - it's up to you.