Here comes a land so different from my lovely ordinate Japan. Will I survive, or…
There is a stark difference be Japan and Vietnam: Vietnam is chaotic, slightly polluted, speaks English. When I arrived at the airport I wanted to ask where the bus stop was, and a lady from one of the currency exchanges was telling me then her (male) colleague cut her off and said “no bus only taxi”. Now, such behaviour is only reflecting bad on his people. A) The woman had already told me mostly where the bus stop was, b) the internet, in it’s grace, had warned me about them lying in regards to the existence of buses and c) my host told me there was one.
Luckily, I later on asked an old lady where the bus was and she was kind enough to stop the bus and literally shove me in it. It was cute.
The streets are teeming with motorbikes, and having met up with Andrew (a good friend of Daniel’s), I let myself be convinced to climb one of these death machines; there are several such bike taxis, and I highly suggest taking one. Bumpy at first, but you get the hang of it and it is rather fun.
We crossed the jungle of bikes safely to get to this street food place; we ordered banh xeo which is a sort of pancake you wrap in those leaves. I also had to get some vermicelli with bbq pork because it was only 40,000 dong (2$).
We then roamed around on the bike, under the rather new underwater tunnel, to the other side of the city, it’s landscape rather barren, but the views were great and it seemed all couples came here to just sit on bridges and hug.