Zombies and Motorbikes

We made it. The 3-hour flight from Taiwan to Ho Chi Minh was a breeze compared to the 14-hour flight prior. I watched the movie Brave, not afraid to admit it, ate some fried fish style airplane food dish (good choice right?), read a little, and boom we landed in Vietnam. We went through Customs with relatively no trouble; I am assuming the agent didn’t speak a lick of English because he refused to utter one word to any of us. I even used the politest ‘thank you very much’ I could muster after 25 hours of travel.

We stood waiting with a hundred or so others Asians for our bags. There was a continual joke that our bags wouldn’t make it all the way to Ho Chi Minh and we would be stuck wearing our nasty traveled in clothes on our back. The joke became less and less funny as we stood there not seeing a single bag of ours. We just had to see one and then we would be in the clear. I started imagining walking into an Asian style Walmart and buying new clothes for the trip, we would probably have to shop at Big and Tall or the Asian equivalent. We spotted our bags and got out of there.

We walked out of the airport to a flood of Asians all waving and smiling. Waving and smiling at us obviously, so Clayton waved back. There was a teenage kid holding a huge sign with LEE ROBERT written on it. We should have planned better and given an inappropriate name for the sign. We followed the young guy to the curb and waited ten minutes or so for the car. That was when the heat soaked in. Not just the heat, but also the humidity. We all grew up in Orlando and can deal with a good amount of heat and humidity, but this felt worse than an August day in central Florida. It was a relief to step into the air-conditioned car and have a nice conversation with the driver. The driver didn’t speak English. It was a quiet ride.

The ratio of cars to motorbikes on the road is about 1 to 10. The people on the motorbikes were a crazy mix of individuals of all varieties. There was a suit-wearing businessman with dress shoes riding next to a man transporting fifty or so tires, next to a well dressed woman, next to a family of three squished on a bike. While there are a few traffic lights, it seems as though it is a vaguely organized free-for-all on the roads.

Arriving at the hotel, it was obvious how respectful all the staff members are. They wouldn’t let us carry our bags in, had two or three greeters at the door, and made us sit down and drink tea while they checked us in. I know I give off a natural glow of royalty but it was almost an overwhelming amount of service. I guess I can get used to this culture shock. We immediately met a Canadian couple that told us of the three weeks they had spent in Vietnam. I thought their accents were funny. They recommended not eating the food from the vendors sitting directly on the streets. It was a crappy experience that had left a bad mark on their trip, if you catch my drift. Diarrhea, I meant diarrhea. And now I know how to spell diarrhea, wouldn’t you guess, two r’s. We have a friendly competition going; whoever gets the squirts first loses. I will keep you posted on the outcome.

Speaking of diarrhea, we were told by a very reliable and knowledgeable young doctor in San Diego that we should not drink the water. It was some real top-quality medical advice. I asked her about the ice in drinks and she said that she hadn’t thought about that but yes, to avoid that too. I have been drinking water out of bottles, but have had every other drink with ice. It is too hot not to. Maybe we will find a loser to the competition sooner than we thought.

We felt like zombies after checking in, the jet lag/dehydration was running its course. We decided to have an early dinner and located a spot on a map. Heading that way, we almost got hit by a couple of motorbikes crossing streets and ended up slipping into a bar a few blocks down, just to check out the Vietnamese bar culture. The bar was called O’Reilys, just your typical Irish-Vietnamese bar. We sat next to a Brit our age who was trying to pretend that he only spoke Vietnamese, that was until his buddy came in and he started rambling in that silly accent. That wanker.

Dinner was great, seafood and spring rolls. After dinner I really felt like a walking zombie, a Walker, if you will. My eyes were bloodshot, I couldn’t walk straight, and it was time to pass out. We woke up early for a motorbike tour of Vietnam. Actually just got back from that awesome tour in one piece, one terribly soggy piece.

Until next time.