Short ride again today as I get used to the heat, traffic, navigation and shake off the jet lag. Three ferries to cross the Mekong: first to Than Phong island, then Hoa Ninh island and then back to the mainland. Whilst waiting for ferry number three a fight broke out between two blokes. I'm beginning to think it's me that somehow triggers these in a Carrie sort of way (see day out in Toulouse in last September's blog). Not sure of the cause but there might be a Lotto sales turf war going on. The policeman sorting the traffic watched the whole thing unfold but just carried on waving people this way and that whilst they all ignored him. Now that's a man who knows his job description and sticks to it isn't it Boris.
Trust me. There is something worse than last night's Vietnamese karaoke at midnight and that's Vietnamese karaoke at 11 in the morning sung by half a dozen drunk policemen who want me to join in when I stop for water. Tet New Year celebrations are in full swing and it's a tricky couple of minutes. I don't want to offend them and end up supplementing their pension pot for a mythical misdemeanour but I also don't think my rendition of 'Come on Eileen' will help here. It's neither pretty nor recognisable. Nobody likes to sit next to us Olivers on our rare church visits when singing might be required. We can each produce one note only and it's not the same one and curiously it never appears in any hymn or song I have ever heard. Plenty of smiling laughing and waving by me as I back up my bike, jump on and scarper. Close one.
The cycling on the islands is the most remote I have done. Mainly single tracks linking small houses that sometimes double as shops selling bottles of water, unshelled coconuts, papaya and jackfruit that looks like durian. (Jackfruit the size of basketballs below).
There's often small children and elderly grandparents (I assume) sitting nearby or in hammocks. Each house has a small garden and frequently there are tombs in the gardens. They are box-like, about three feet tall and painted white or blue. They must be erstwhile family members. Occasionally there will be a tomb that is half the usual size or smaller. There are more of these than I want to see. None would be favourite.
By the way if you haven't tried durian then count yourself lucky. One of my students at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (now known as the University of Hong Kong in the way that Irish stew is known as stew in Ireland) described it as having a 'special' smell and that's wonderfully polite. There's a video on YouTube of a cat smelling durian for the first time. It turns it's back on the fruit and starts scratching and digging the earth to cover it up. Smart cat. Durian stinks.
I arrive at a homestay in Vinh Long, the Vietnamese equivalent of a B and B. It's a shabby chic and charming antique fork for a door handle kinda place. There's cold green tea and a very cold wet towel to greet me and a gift of a scarf. That should come in handy when the temperature plummets to the high 20's later this evening.
There's also an outside solar shower beloved of us greens (Greta and I are two organic peas in an organic, sustainably grown, compostable, low carbon pod) but also mosquitoes. (Why aren't mosquitoes vegan Greta? Why? We'd all be so much happier and much less itchy and I would not smell like an overripe lemon right now.) It's lovely though and has an old wine bottle for a tap. This is A grade, industrial strength recycling at its best.
The hosts are Yennie, whose English is better than mine, and her elderly parents, who could not be more charming and helpful. I'm hoping Yennie's mum will be cooking later but right now I can hear the karaoke starting up just down the street. Altogether now! "Too-ra-loo-ra Too-ra-loo-rye-ay......" Come on Dibble! Give it both barrels! Actually, no, wait. Scratch that.
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