Mekong Meander. Day 6: Long Xuyen to Chau Doc.

Last night's meal with beers and table service came in at less than £2.50. I was 17 when that last happened and that was beer only. Egg sandwich for breakfast but as I'm allergic to eggs I mimed sickness. Not the full blown d and v, I thought that might be a bit much in the busy dining room, so I went for the hand on a fevered brow. Pho (noodles in broth) was the next choice but broke the rules so I pointed to the fruit on the counter. A peeled orange in a bowl appeared just as I realised my mistake.

To celebrate the lunar new year the orange I was now eating had been placed with other fruit in front of a Buddhist icon. It was there for the ancestors of my homestay to enjoy and not for my breakfast. In UK cultural terms I had walzed into a Catholic church, nibbled at the holy communion biscuits and washed them down with some nice wine someone had kindly left in a jug nearby. My list of cultural transgressions grows ever longer.

Last day today. I am running out of steam and the blisters are growing. When I tire I remind myself that this is my choice and think of the things I have seen and have yet to see. I don't think the guy in the picture below has that choice about his bike ride.

I thought they were fridge-freezers at first but they're only polystyrene boxes so he's actually a bit of a lightweight. May the wind forever be behind you mate.

I'm a bit reluctant to take pictures of people's homes in the rural areas. I don't want to intrude egregiously. There is real poverty evident. Corrugated iron huts, some dirt floors, hammocks, two chairs at most and open fires for cooking. Mosquitoes and dogs abound. Unlike France, the dogs run away and cower rather than chase me. I'm not sure which I prefer. Still people smile, wave and shout hello.

Just over the road from these houses a new church was being built.

The search for water today was less eventful. I was avoiding the cafes with the stunningly loud, tuneless karaoke or ear splitting V-Pop. The sound systems were huge and the neighbours were gaunt and glassy eyed. The cafes were usually full of large groups of men enjoying more than a beer or two. Big card games were played for money and the greetings were raucous. A bit unpredictable so I ride on.

Eventually I pass a small place that has a wheelchair at the front and an elderly woman in a hammock so that's the decision made. I discover salty lemon.

The ingredients list at the bottom says "Made from salty lemons". OK. Got it. The lovely owner brought a jug of water, led me by the hand to the roadside and poured the water so I could wash my hands.

Celebrations are in full swing when I arrive in Chau Doc. These mainly take place in people's homes. Most shops and businesses are shut but for the smallest traders it's just another day at the office. At about 10:00 pm I look out of my window before going to bed and can see a small, family run, roadside pho stall (70p a bowl) still doing business. I Iook out at the same scene at 6:00 am in the morning. The same family members still cooking and serving. Long days and a lot of pho.

I'm just waiting for a ride back to Saigon to meet Liz at the airport this evening. Heavy traffic apparently so should be fun in the melee and anarchic chaos on the roads.

Vietnam: bloody brilliant.

Blog over.