Its hard to justify why a big teeming swamp of brown mud can get a ranking in the book. Unless of course the banks were littered with herds of zebras, the odd wallowing crocodile or two and the roar of lions in the distance. But instead the only signs of wildlife I saw today were a few mangy dogs on the banks, a handful of ducks splashing near the shores and the roar of gasoline as my boat and twenty others roared across its 6km width. Rather different to the Okovango then!!
I signed myself in for a day tour to experience life in the southernmost bit of Vietnam. Like most things in life- you get what you paid for. And for one of Uncle Sam's tenners I got to chug on the Delta for 30 minutes, visit a coconut candy factory with the obligatory sales pitch, visit an artist's centre for Agent Orange victims with the obligatory sales pitch, a honey factory for the obligatory sales pitch, a tropical fruit factory for the obligatory sales pitch and a bonsai factory for the obligatory sales pitch. In between these three hours of hell were a few high spots.
Certainly being paddled down a tiny waterway canal by two ancient women was pleasant and relaxing as we wove between 15 foot high palm fronds, admired the rickety timber structures of locals houses, smiled at the children swimming in the muddy waters, took photos of the elders swaying on their hammocks on the waters edge and threw droplets of water at the passing ducks. Rounding a bend 10 metres into the journey however we passed boat after boat of tourists also enjoying the same experience- but going in the opposite direction. Bit disconcerting as we were heading for lunch....could it be that bad at the tourist restaurant?
A short 15 minutes later our highlight bit of the tour was over (always, always ask for the fine print if it isnt in the flyer) and we headed into the restaurant. It seemed there were quite a few happy Vietnamese there (sadly all tourists as well) tipping beers down their throats and getting rather merry. Lunch was included but the plate of boiled rice with a thin strip of 2mm thick chicken and some unidentifiable veges wasnt really vietnamese haute cuisine so I went off-piste and perused the menu on the table. Hmmm....elephant ear deep fried fish, pigeon, eel, snake, goanna, turtle and squirrel.
Always refreshing to be in a restaurant where you labor over each meal choice torn between decisions. Those agonising minutes of going down and up, half down, then to the right on a menu, chomping your lips all the time to determine what your body wanted to taste. Would boiled goanna and chillis be nicer than turtle served in its shell with lemongrass? Would snake soup with helpful herbs be nicer than minced pigeon and noodles?
I have to confess being somewhat intrigued to try the turtle- figuring it was a mere unendangered swamp tortoise that had just picked the wrong moment to surface as a boat paddled by - but you never know given the delta does run into the sea...so I went for the roasted squirrel.
While the photo had a big bushy tailed red squirrel the waiter wasnt sure if it was a grey or a red one, or a baby or an old one, proudly telling me "they arrive here already cut up." Didnt appear he had seen one ever in his life either. Okay...and so one roasted squirrel was purchased for $7. I have to say it was rather tasty- definately a market opportunity for someone in England brave enough to serve them up. Albeit I think taking the Australian route and just killing them like the kangaroos and shipping dead to Asia might be more lucrative. My lunch companion was a medical forensic photographer so we took great joy in holding up each chunk and trying to work out which bit was which. The hind quarters were the easiest given that tiny claws still peeked out from under the soy roasting sauce. The ribcage also easily identifiable as well as was its little paws. Thankfully the head wasnt present!
After a final detour for the last sales pitch of the day we boarded on the bus and were rushed through the rice paddies back to Ho Chi Minh. Its an interesting tradition in Southern Vietnam- they bury their dead on their plots. Consequently, in between all the people huddled down in the water with their traditional hats on their heads looking after the rice, rose concrete structures for the dead. One dotted here, then a few more at the back of the patch and so on. Apparently regulations have them buried 2 metres down in the swampy ground but you just wonder about the hazards in the surrounding waters as the bodies decomposed.
All in all an enjoyable day. Does this entry in the "1000 places to see before you die" book get the dog ear or the page ripped out vote? Well...i think the best thing to see in the Mekong would be the floating markets...but that requires an overnight stay as they are all over by about 7am. Sadly, given that there are only a few places sufficient enough to cater for tourists I would hazard a guess the standard of accomodation could be a bit grim...but the photos of the market look very cool.
Without being able to see that (and never having had done so), Im ripping this entry out of the book!
