Our modest itinerary
Vietnam is a huge country. We are going to cover a tiny part of it, about 350km to the Cambodian border.
The trip to Ben Tre is like a BA first class flight, well…maybe not quite. We are handed a small bottle of water each, not liters of Sussex champagne. Our bus is a double decker sleeping bus with recliner beds and good air con.
At the Ho Chi Minh bus station we tag on to Scott, a seasoned globe trotter from the UK. He is heading to the same homestay (bed and breakfast) as us. The bus station is huge, chaotic and no English spoken or written. Thanks to Scott we board the right bus. The great thing about backpacking is that every day you get to meet and talk to new travellers. The three of us share a taxi on arrival in Ben Tre. And then it is a short walk through luscious vegetation to the ferry point.
Our homestay Nam Binh is located on a little island in the middle of the very wide and muddy river Mecong.
Nam Binh homestay is pretty basic, a little grubby and run down. Our room is huge with 3 queen beds.
Three generations are living in the homestay. “Toy” the daughter speaks good English and basically runs the place. Her mom is in charge of the cooking. Her food is tasteless but we get on well through sign language. She seems to like the fact that I’m so tall and pats me affectionately on the shoulder. Actually I end up being patted by quite a few women around here. Also a lot of people think that I am a man.
Every night, Toy’s dad sits around one of the table with his friends and one of the Vietnamese guest, eating and drinking, and being jolly and loud. On the first night he invites Irish and me to join them. We are offered fishy food and many shots that have to be downed on the spot. We feel welcome. The homemade rice wine (contained in an old plastic bottle) doesn’t feel too strong. It doesn’t affect Irish who ends up downing half of my shots.
Although we have no idea what is being said, Irish, with her usual liveliness and sparkle, manages to entertain the drinking gang and makes everybody laugh. In fact she is fast becoming a favourite. The following night, as we were sitting around a table talking to some fellow travellers, she is hoisted out of our little group and marched to the drinking gang’s table. All in good fun.
On the second day, we hire bicycles to explore our island and the next island joined to it by a small bridge. As we plod down the narrow concrete road we come across the most charming open bar ever! So pretty and shady, surrounded by flowers and green foliage, with hammocs to relax on while sipping coconuts and icy Saigon beer.
The bar is run by a lovely elderly couple, full of smiles. The place is so chilled that we’ll end up returning there many times. The star of the place is a small, tame cocky cockerel who loves to be petted.
It’s a long and sweaty ride to the other side of the more industrialised second island with its fish farms and plastic recycling plants. Workers feed bottles to a kind of grinding machine and out come trays on the other side, hard work and smelly. Despite the hard living conditions, we mainly get smiles and enthusiastic hellos most of the time.
On the third day we treat ourselves to a scooter to zoom around Ben Tre, a much cooler and breezier way of exploring.
We end up in down town Ben Tre at the local market. That’s pretty full on, every creature here is sold alive.
Somewhat unnerved and wobbly we decide to ride to the Riverside Resort for beer recovery. The place seems to be a wedding venue and has a nice and breezy terrasse along the river.
More riding and riding until we find a little place along the main drag, frequented by lots of locals, always a good sign. They only serve one dish but what a dish! The most delicious vegetarian noodle soup with its accompanying green leaves and herbs. Best we’ve had so far.
Well chuffed with ourselves we decide to take another route to return to our homestay. This involved taking a different ferry linking the mainland to second island. On the ferry, for some unknown reason, the ticket collector starts shouting at me, saying we can’t disembark at the first stop. But my Google map says that’s where we should go. Ticket man gets more and more heated, takes my money, then give it back, then takes it again. He is really getting red in the face but the crowd around us seems mostly amused. So it can’t be so bad, I think, he’s just a very excitable kind of person.
Anyway we do get off according to Google instructions. But soon we understand what the whole ferry palava was about. There’s no road at this ferry stop, just a cracked up concrete path. Soon there is no concrete left. Then there’s no path left, just a sandy track. Finally there’s just sand. Irish doesn’t loose her cool and rides it out like a champion. We are scooter hell’s angels I say, more like Charlie’s angels she replies.
Despite saddle-sore bums, our favourite open bar feels like heaven.
Ninky Nonks Roamings 