Vietnam mysteries, updated

A. The motorcycling market
As mentioned, there are some 5 million motorcyclists in Ho Chi Min city alone. Thusly, there are certain items you can sell or buy a lot of. In particular, devices to combat pollution, skin cancer and head trauma - face masks (specially tailored ones with cutesy designs even), long gloves for the ladies' arms and helmets with cutesy designs (and more). And of course, they've got the ponchos for the rainy season. I actually considered purchasing a polka dotted one, myself ...

B. The shutters all come down.
That happens at around 11pm for hotels and guesthouses. Of course, I don't mean the 5-star establishments. In any case, this seems to come as a rather huge shock to foreigners. After having tea with the superior Swiss, it ended up being me who walked him back to his lodgings. Which had all its shutters shut (you know, the kind of metal ones which you pull down from the top). Oh, your hotel is closed! I said, rather needlessly. Are you kidding me?!?!?! he said, and started to freak out and hit the shutters. After several minutes of observing that - Why don't you ring the doorbell? I suggested. He did so, someone opened up and he quickly scurried inside. On my first day in Vietnam, a Chinese girl and her Australian internet boyfriend already told me about how they were similarly shut out of their hotel on their first night. They each told me the same story separately, so I heard it twice.

1. Who plans the towns and cities?
The buildings are oddly narrow and elongated. And seeing as they're pretty much always stacked up against each other to form a block of buildings, you've got to wonder how dark it gets in one of those places, right smack in the middle between the front door and the back door. My theory is that they were trying to make it so that everyone has a slice of the main road (however thin a slice it may be). If they divvy up the land into two rows with wider facades, for instance, they'd probably have to build two roads to service the block, rather than just one.

2. Group make-up for girls.
On the day of the wedding, the girls (eight bridesmaids) get out of bed and start piling on the make-up. Yes, I can see how it's useful in hiding those skin blemishes and creating the illusion of large soulful eyes, but it's an outdoor wedding. It's 38°C out there. One of them says to me, 'You should put on some make-up, you'll be more beautiful.' Couldn't muster up the derisive laughter, so settled for a weak decline instead. People keep telling me there're lots of pretty girls in Vietnam. I'd rather hear which country has the handsome men, y'know.

3. Time is truly elastic in Vietnam!
The tour desk tells me the bus journey from Saigon to Mui Ne takes 5 hours. I get on the bus at 4.30pm and reach Mui Ne at almost midnight. Two days later, I buy a bus ticket for a noon bus to Da Lat. The bus ambles up close to 1pm. (But I'd be waiting for 2 hours 'cause checked out at 11am.) Yet another 2 days later, I decided to save on a night's lodgings by taking the night bus back to Saigon. The lady advises the midnight bus, as it will reach Saigon at 7.30am - a good time, she says. We reach Saigon at 4.30am. I didn't even realise it is Saigon, in the darkness. Was reluctant to get off the bus, insisting that I wanted to go to Saigon. It was an hour before it dawned upon me that the shops opposite the drop off point look somewhat familiar.

4. Sure, as punctuation.
Some people in the travel industry pick up some wonderful linguistic skills. The word 'sure' seems pretty popular. In some random conversation or inquiry about a tour or a bus schedule, for example, it will pop up quite shockingly (the first time). 'You can take this tour SURE!!!' the person suddenly shouts. Or, 'This bus reaches Saigon at 7.30am SURE!!! It is a good time for you SURE!!!' Guess it is pretty handy as a exclamation mark ... SURE

5. No sweat to the airport.
Compared to other countries, Saigon's Tan Son Nhat International Airport is unbelievably close to the city centre. Two hours before my flight, I was still in town, waiting for a bus to the airport. Cursing, as usual, because I was sure I'd be late. Well, the public bus arrived, picked up and dropped off passengers along the congested way, and still made it to the airport under 30 minutes. Shocking (another example of elastic time?)! And best of all, the ride only costs about 20 cents. But hate the immigration counter (unsurprising). Asked me why the customs declaration/departure form was torn at the edge. How would I %$@!ing know, it was given to me like that by the flight attendant! (I said, 'I don't know.') 'No way you don't know,' he replied, but let me through anyway. What, are these people specifically trained to be asses?

Waiting for the 11pm bus to HCMC

I am pretty much done in Dalat.

The day had started at an outdoor adventure store, awaiting the arrival of 3 people who'd signed up for a biking tour but never showed up. Apparently, they all felt ill and will go biking tomorrow instead, which leaves me and the mountain bike (too high) and a Vietnamese fellow (guide).

These things are usually 2 minimum to go, but I s'pose they had no choice but to take me since the other tourists were behaving badly. Unfortunately, this meant (I suspect) he took me on a route guaranteed to tire me out (uphill, uphill, more uphill!!!) so the whole thing would end early. Being a hater of uphills, I'd never imagine I'd manage to stay on the bicycle on all the uphills, and not get run off the winding road by buses and trucks.

Maybe it's because the bike had a good range of gears - take the path of least resistance and pedal like crazy (like a hamster on a wheel, somehow, but cover very little distance), or y'know, do some really hard cycling. I expect some form of hobbling is in store tomorrow. Even my nether regions hurt.

Rewind. Dinner yesterday was at a bakery/restaurant that seemed popular with the locals. I was headed for an empty table when a fellow with a crew cut strode in front of me and took the table I had set my sights on. I sat at the next table instead. Then, for some reason, the crew cut turned around and spoke. A Vietnamese who grew up a Swiss, as it turns out. Invited me to go to a nightclub later. I decided that was a bad idea, but didn't want to be a stand-up-er, so ended up going to drink tea instead, during which he laughs at my accent and says 'I can't imagine how you write the news in English', but yet don't know common words like 'convenient', 'biased' and 'flood'.

Apparently on a journey to learn to be alone (although, no doubt girlfriend would come if she could), and claims to be becoming more open-minded by talking to the likes of me. Goodbyes at 11.30pm - and no offer to send me back to my lodgings were forthcoming. I do not like Mr Superiority Complex.

Rewind. I was sitting next to a short potted shrub on the steps of the guesthouse in Mui Ne, waiting for the bus to Dalat. Not really happy to be leaving a pleasant, reasonably priced tatched-roof room behind, but the hot-sun-beating-down holiday isn't really my thing - didn't even bring swim wear. Then, a guy exiting the place spotted me, and gestured like he'd been looking for me. Turned out to be the guy who'd shouted a greeting out to me as I walked past the sitting area the day before. An American soldier, taking a break from Afghanistan. Mui Ne is cool and windy (high 30s), Afghanistan is baking (45!!!). One man's poison ...

During the chat, a sentence like this was spouted: 'I wanted to go to Bali, but I heard there were too many whores, too many tuk tuks ...' Stuck at the word 'whores' - possibly the first time it's being said to me in actual conversation. Didn't even correct him about the tuk tuks.

The bus turned out to be almost an hour late and the ride was the most bumpy I've been on in a very long time. Gigantic potholes up the mountain and poor suspension conspired to slowly injure my insides. Funny, I don't remember this bit from the last time.

Rewind. Ho Chi Min City is a seething mess. A population of 10 million people and 5 million motorcycles. I'd escaped here after spending 3.5 days in the Mekong Delta. The Delta hadn't been kind - by the time the Vietnamese wedding concluded, I'd been fed on by at least 30 mosquitoes, mostly below the knees. Somehow the tactics of these insects remind me of the Viet cong. I'd meant to make my way further into the Delta to a town called Ca Mau, but the travel guide described the mosquitoes there as the size of "hummingbirds" that can only be killed by shotguns. Also, it's a high risk place for malaria. Not very keen on acquiring that. Apparently they've got a special medicine you drink for that. Not very keen on that either.

I took a 7-hour sampan ride on the Mekong. Alone. It was mind-numbing. A plan to go see the storks was subsequently skewered thanks to the lack of reasonably priced transport options. The Delta's not for the independent tourist, only groups in busloads. So I beat a hasty retreat and consequently got stuffed into a packed tourist mini-bus headed for HCMC, sandwiched between the driver and the tour guide. The Cambodian guide wasted no time in professing his love for Vietnam (don't know why). Asked me if I liked Vietnam. I wonder.