Day 15 - Saigon - 21st September 2014 - Sunday

Saigon - Day 15 - 21st September 2014 - Sunday

I am riding pillion in the back of a 1960's era vintage Veapa scooter, it is banana yellow and matches my orange top and headscarf, which also happens to match my helmet and the t shirt of the crazy driver in charge. This is Saigon After Dark by Vespa in Vietnam Adventures, who advertise it as The Ride of Your Life. I think it may be the last ride of my life as I close my eyes as Ly pulls straight out into an oncoming flank of four hundred scooters, and miraculously weaves his way through and the bikes accommodate us, nobody shouts or toots or gives us the finger.

We met an Aussie couple in the lift this morning who said that they had had the most amaaaaaaazing evening the night before. Hence we are here. This happens largely by word of mouth, and it sure beats sitting at a table with Betty and Kathrine having our hearing diminished.

The traffic in Saigon although not quite the suicidal standard of Hanoi is hair raising. Thousands and thousands of scooters and bikes ride through these streets each day, laden with people - the most on one scooter I have seen is six - and the drivers are texting messages, talking on phones, eating, smoking, I see one woman breast feeding a baby (granted she was a passenger not the driver), there are children of all ages, not one with a helmet, babies asleep in mothers arms, larger children holding smaller children, babies with their heads resting on a custom made pillow on the handle bars between the drivers hands, there is also strange metal contraption which sits on the floor of the bike, a kind of seat for one or two kids, a passenger with four, I count, large square thick sheets of glass between him and the driver, resting on his thighs, another with what looks like almost all of the necessary building materials for a small house, including two pieces of metal piping, about fifteen feet long, jutting out front and back with not even a red rag of warning, scooters piled twelve feet high with hay bales, live animals, balloons, beer barrels, fifteen large water bottles of the sort you would upend in an office, old ladies nonchalantly dozing, and lovers using possibly the only opportunity they have to get close and have simulated sex amongst a cast of thousands.

Quang was telling us that there are 70 deaths a day on the road in Vietnam. Minh says there are 35. Whatever, it's a huge. Umber, eve if the population is three times our Australian one. There are no road rules. We have been told this by all the locals. The traffic lights are for decoration. People run straight through red lights without blinking, traffic comes from both directions, scooters mount the pavement to get an edge in time, people ignore zebra crossings with impunity and toot at you as you walk across.Little green men mean nothing, it's a test of nerves. Yet for all this, I am present to a real skill to driving here, our drivers are opportunists, constantly on the lookout for the smallest distance between a bus or a rickshaw or a car or a scooter, dipping and weaving left and right to the slightest degree to get through what appears an impossibly small space, dropping their feet to the ground if travel becomes too slow to maintain balance, revving up and dropping back, taking what look like considered risks to run the gamut of a hundred scooters, and fifty cars and cross from east to west as traffic travels from north to south.

I close my eyes frequently, and laugh out loud often, this is an adrenalin rush and something I never anticipated doing. It's madness and I am having so much fun. I screech as my Beloved races past in his pink shirt, wearing a helmet shaped like one the Germans wore in WW2, but in blue and orange. At a Forced stop, which even Saigon drivers have to do from time to time, we hold hands and smile into each others eyes. His face is glowing and split from ear to ear in a happy grin and I think, not such a bad way to die if our time is up.

Drinks, Trish and Brett an English couple from Portsmouth, another ear basher, newly married 47 yo - I know why it took so long. Paul and Trina, Indian girl from wa just engaged.

Seafood dinner and drinks - morning glory jokes - pippis, mussels, frog legs, coconut snails, crab claws, prawns

Pancakes and drinks

Coffee bar for tea and violinist and three different singers, up an alley way and in through the kitchen, past the toilets,

With bikes and crates and dust bins and an old Russian motor bike with side car and a rusted motor bike, up a curving metal stair case weaving through a tree, Mind your head, we enter a Rock n roll bar with Acoustics - a gig by Brian Jenkins from the USA - cannot get in front door wall to wall people, so it's the VIP entrance for us - and another mixed race American and Vietnamese woman who sings in both languages, the crowd love her and sing along knowing all the words. We stand I. The bar, the only place there is a square inch of space, gin and tonic which is so alcoholic I can hardly drink it - but I rise to the occasion and drink a half of it - the fumes make my eyes water, and am sure it is killing off any unfriendly bugs from the food we have just eaten. Respect in his eyes the black American ways for,older women. And he says "you know how to dance lady!"

Earlier in day - Ciu Chi Tunnels with Minh our entertaining guide who gives us his wife's special spring roll recipe and sings the love song he sang to her whilst wooing her. She said no the first time.

Walking in the rain to Ben Thanh Markets

Resting

Home at 10.45 pm. Ly was my driver, Touin the tour guide