Miss Prawn Cocktail 1954, aka Kampot Ha Tien Travel and Tours had taken my $12 promising a seamless trip across the border. To be honest, I didn't have much confidence in her, given the terrible online reviews. Due to be collected at between 11 and 11.30, when no one turned up I was a little concerned. But a really nice guy from Phnom Penh also just checking out obviously noticed my concern and asked who was to collect me. He used his mobile to call Miss PC 1954 and I was assured her minibus was on the way. The kindness of strangers is always so unexpected, I resolve to do more of that myself. It finally arrived at 11.45 so time was tight to catch the 1pm bus at Ha Tien. But no problem, this is SE Asia, and the connecting bus didn't now go till 2pm, so all was fine. It was a pretty rough dust road to the border, but the crossing was so easy. Apparently Miss PC 1954 pays a bit of a backhander to the border officials and all works really well. Give the driver your passie, walk a few yards, pay your $1 "health check" and through you go. No silly form filling, queueing or customs, just get on the Vietnamese minibus to which your bag has been magically transferred. Everyone else on the bus was going to Phu Quoc and the connection with the ferry was a bit tight, so along with the usual continual horn blowing we took a few two wheeled corners into Ha Tien, only 8kms. But hooray, I had avoided the dreaded motorbike from the border into Ha Tien.
I had an hour or so to wait in Ha Tien. It's amazing, you really "feel" the difference between the two countries. In Cambodia everyone seems to be lazing around, no industry or work seems to be happening. Women appear to be the only ones actually moving whilst many of the men sit round playing cards. In Ha Tien, only a small town, it felt bustling. There were little shops selling flatscreen tv's, washing machines and other electrical items. A bent old lady with baguette filled bags on a pole across her shoulders shouting out her wares. I popped into the supermarket and rather than the dusty offerings of Cambodia, this had shelves full of consumer items. And cheap, for a packet of biscuits, a packet of crisp things and a small water, I paid 50p. The changeover place there is a Western Bar, the Oasis, and a beer was 33p, sure it will be a lot more when we hit the tourist trap of Mui Ne. Compared to Koh Kong, the equivalent small town on the Thai Cambodia border, this is a different world.
But soon a taxi arrives to take me to the next mini bus to go to Chau Doc. Dropped off at a garage, I transfer for my scheduled two hour (for that read actually three hour, this is SE Asia...) trip to Chau Doc. A fairly old minibus and instead of the noise of a Kung Fu film you get on the bigger buses, this one was fitted with an extremely loud proximity sensor that sounded every time the minibus came near any other traffic, and appeared to be situated just behind my left ear. Well, as I have said before, this is SE Asia and as well as never being far from an orchid, you are never very far from another vehicle...
A peaceful journey it was not. We stop every so often to pick up or drop off locals doing the same journey. No chickens, but babies, generators and large parcels... My Vietnamese language lessons have come on, I learned two words whilst in Ha Tien. I practice my "hello" on a fellow passenger with a baby, but all I can assume is that I was speaking with a different accent to her, whilst she smiled, she looked blankly - oh well, back to language 101. I think I may have been doing my impression of the British guy speaking French in "Allo, Allo" again... I just hope I wasn't being offensive... But by sign language, she showed that she was interested in looking at my camera and wanted me to take their picture.
The journey across the delta was fascinating with the rice paddies in their various stages of development. Some burnt off, some a bit brown, but others that amazing emerald green before the rice ripens. The delta is the "rice basket" of the country and you can see why as almost everyone seemed to be involved in its production. Along each side of the narrow road, rice is laid out to dry on black plastic sheets, looking a bit like Boris Bike lanes. Not that sensible as the road is quite narrow as it is... but there again everyone seems to drive along the middle anyway only swerving at the last minute, horns blazing, to avoid whatever is coming in the opposite direction - a bit like a big game of "chicken"... But mopeds and push bikes drive over the laid out rice helping the threshing process. So if your rice ever tastes a bit rubbery, you now know why.
Other traffic apart from buses were the usual motorbikes, bicycles with huge loads, pony traps and bullock carts. Don't think I saw a car the whole way. The tumbledown wooden shacks that line the road and face onto the Mekong river tributaries look really precarious, as do the shacks on the rivers below forming the small fishing villages.
We cross loads of rickety bridges. These have really speeded up the journey, not so long ago you had to do a few river ferry crossings. Dotted by small towns we wended across the delta before arriving at Chau Doc. Well I say Chau Doc, actually it was a field outside Chau Doc where I was uncermoniously ejected from said mini bus and pointed in the direction of my nemesis, the moto... "No," I said, best memsahib voice to the fore, "I want taxi". The moto driver looked at me, and in his excellent English patiently said, "you need to take a moto, how else do you think you will get to your hotel?" Good point, I was in a field, somewhere outside Chau Doc, night was approaching, and I had no idea where I was. Miss Prawn Cocktail, 1954 had finally got her revenge! So on goes the nitty crash hat, a fetching camouflage design, when what I really wanted was one that the Vietnamese girls wear with a rather fetching frilly brim... We talk price, and I think I was rather overcharged, but in a field with few others around, I didn't feel I had a strong negotiating position... He loads my bag between his legs and the front wheel, I put my day bag on my back, handbag over my shoulder, close my eyes and clamber on.
But he knew the hotel I was in and a few terrifying minutes later I am able to open my eyes as I clamber down to the safety of the pavement. The Hai Chau Hotel is great for the price, slightly heavy on the frills but sparkly clean and situated one block back from the river. In Kep I had been why why less, the only wine on offer was a warm, dark orange liquid. It may have been labelled Sauvignon Blanc but looked like it had been sunbathing for a few months, Sauvignon Orange would have better met any Trade Description Act. So off I trot to the posh Victoria Chau Doc where I enjoy the smallest glass of why why I have been offered in a long time, but at least it was half price happy hour so only £2.50...
After my travelling day it was peaceful to sit out overlooking the intersection of the Bassac and Mekong rivers and sip away. In the early evening the river is still busy with ferries, industrial boats, tourist boats and the outside bar at the Victoria a peaceful and quiet place to watch it all go by.
Outside the peace of the Victoria is shattered. Vietnam is a noisy place. The public loudspeakers on each lamp post along the river park are pumping out their uplifting messages and music, but are drowned out by the sound of motos, bells, horns, shouting. Locals play a game I have never seen before and stand in a circle with a version of a shuttlecock which they pass to one another by kicking it in the air. I couldn't work out how the score went, but they were having noisy fun. Older people take their evening constitutional marching smartly along the riverside walk, the women dressed in their pyjama like outfits and conical Vietnamese hats. The few Westerners walking amongst them (me included) looked rather scruffy and unkempt in comparison.
Then back to try out hotel restaurant. A strange affair in the reception area, brightly lit with low energy flourescent, never a flattering light... But time to re visit my old friend, Vietnamese Dalat why why. "No small available" I am told regretfully, so I decide to go for "large" expecting a big glass. But no "large" means a bottle.... Oh well...
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Location:Quang Trung,Chau Doc,Vietnam
