Arabian nights in Saigon

Yesterday I was visited by a woman called Lisa who used to work with Jessica, and has agreed to have weekly language classes with me. She will teach me the basics of Vietnamese while I help her to improve her English grammar and pronunciation . She arrived at midday and we talked for an hour and a half. I had been a bit worried about this; although I like learning languages I have never taught before so was worried at what I could offer Lisa. Fortunately, she was very competent in English and mostly asked me the things she wanted to know. She taught me the numbers one to ten (from which you can work out all the numbers up to ninety-nine), how to address people in Vietnamese according to age, gender and relationship, and a few other useful phrases.

I've been told that it will be very difficult to learn Vietnamese. The grammar is very complicated and pronunciation relies on understanding six different tones that, as in Mandarin Chinese, indicate the way in which a vowel should be pronounced (whether falling or rising, heavy, sharp, etc). Fortunately for me, the Vietnamese language is now based on the Latin alphabet, which should make it infinitely easier for me to learn. This is due to the work of Alexandre de Rhodes, an early French missionary who first arrived in Vietnam in 1627 and created quoc ngu, a phonetic Latin alphabet system to replace the Chinese characters previously used in written Vietnamese.

In the evening it was time for the long-awaited Arabian Nights ball. This was the annual charity ball of AusCham, the Australian Chamber of Commerce Vietnam, of which Jessica is a member. She invited some friends, most of whom I had already met at Mui Ne last weekend. There were some impressive outfits on display, including some rich Saudi Arabian oil tycoons, women in niqabs teamed with short black dresses and several Egyptian kings and queens.The reception and dining hall decoration was equally well done. Around our table were Jessica and I, Yvonne and her boyfriend Conrad (a Latin American man who Jessica thinks resembles George Clooney), Jessie and Jasmine, a Puma colleague named Vincent, as well as a quiet Russian couple who won the raffle twice, and a dried-up old rich man with a heavily-botoxed blonde who everyone steered clear of.

Jessica with some new male friends

My first time on a camel!

As we ate and drank lovely Australian wine, we were entertained by belly dancers (very good) and a sword-swallower (not nice when eating). Dessert was a real treat- turkish delight and baklava. Dinner was followed by more drinking and dancing to a fairly unexciting live band playing the usual Florence and the Machine and Kings of Leon covers. The DJ set afterwards- DJ Jases' 'Magic Carpet' Mix, was much better, playing some golden oldies. For example I was very happy to hear two Prince songs over the evening, although several members of our group made a point of commenting on how much older the songs were than me...

Laoshi Lu gives a dumpling masterclass

Today I had a long lie-in after the late night before, and when I awoke Jessica was expecting her friends round any minute for a book- and movie-club meeting. When they arrived we made dumplings together as a fun activity, which were then eaten for lunch. After this I retired to my room as the book and film would be discussed in Chinese, so I sat on my bed listening to The Smiths and generally making good use of my time. I thought that today would be a right-off in terms of interesting things to write about in my blog, as the only other thing I had planned was being taught some yoga by Jessica before tea. But in the middle of our stretches Jessica received an unexpected phone call. She had been invited to a dinner event for this evening, but had never received the invitation, and was being called to see whether she would be attending.
"Chi Thuy! No dinner tonight!", Jessica called down the stairs, and told me we would be going out to a party for a free dinner. I was very confused but continued with her yoga class as instructed, after which I had to hastily get ready for this surprise dinner party. I asked Jessica if this sort of thing happened to her a lot, and she said yes. From now on I will have to be prepared to rush off to some social occasion or another at any moment!

In the taxi I tried to establish from Jessica what sort of event we were going to, but she told me she didn't know, apart from that it was being held by the developers of a new set of apartment blocks in the district, and she had most likely been invited because she has recently bought one of these apartments. We had arrived late and were seated on a round table in a room lit with green lighting where middle-class Vietnamese couples were listening to speeches by the host. This was followed by a dance performance by a troop of young girls and one eager looking lad, all wearing glittery orange outfits. It seemed that this event was being held to mark the 20th anniversary of the host company, and the dancers were performing a 'happy birthday' routine to some garish pop song, pumping their fists and shaking their hair a lot. We agreed that they were quite talented kids although the routine was a bit of an eye-sore! The dinner was a Chinese-style banquet, with numerous courses served, which kept the waiters and waitresses very busy. Jessica and I were disappointed that the huge white birthday cake on the stage turned out to be an ornament, and we were not going to be offered a slice. However, a surprise perk of the evening was the announcement (which somebody translated into English for us) that everybody attending would be given a complimentary two-night stay at a four or five star resort in Dalat or Ninh Binh, courtesy of the event's sponsors. How lucky! I had managed to free-load an awful lot this weekend, so I should feel very fortunate to have such an important friend as Jessica Lu!

Cao Dai and Cu Chi

Yesterday I went on my trip with the HCMC Sinh Cafe tour agency to visit a large Cao Dai temple near the Cambodian border, and then to the Cu Chi tunnels used by Viet Cong fighters, not far from Saigon. It was an 8.15 departure from the travel agency, and my group was around ten people of all different nationalities. Our guide, a warm and jokey Vietnamese man, spoke to us in English, with a very strong accent that was hard to follow, although luckily he repeated everything he said two or three times anyway. I dozed off during the journey and when I awoke we were in a village on the outskirts of the city and the sun was shining brightly. We were paying a visit to a workshop that produces artwork made by, and in aid of, people born disabled by the effects of Agent Orange, the chemical weapon used by the USA during the war. A mixture of herbicides and defoliants, this chemical was supposedly intended to destroy forest cover to reveal the Ho Chi Minh Trail used by the North Vietnamese army (NVA) to transport weaponry and supplies to Viet Cong fighters in the south, but which subsequently killed or maimed at least 400,000 Vietnamese and continues to be passed on to new generations through the 3 million people who were affected by it (Vietnam Red Cross estimate). Besides this, the chemical caused higher rates of miscarriage and stillbirth in women, and at least 150,000 children have since been born with extra fingers or toes, cleft palates or mental health problems as a result of the dioxin in the chemical. On the streets of Saigon today you can see disfigured people begging on the streets, quite likely as a result of  the effects of Agent Orange.

This workshop, aptly named Handicapped Handicrafts, was established in 1976 and produces artwork and ornaments using eggshell and mother-of-pearl. We watched this process take place across the length of the workshop. Firstly, wood boards are treated and covered with a black tar-like paint before being polished to resemble a marble slate. A design drawn on tracing paper is followed and pieces of mother-of-pearl are sawn into appropriate shapes for the design. In other places, crushed eggshell is carefully applied to the black boards to create textured hut roofs or Vietnamese hats, with the tones of the shells used to create shading effects. The rest of the board is hand-painted to create the finished product, which are on sale in an adjoining room. The disfigurements of the artists were not immediately obvious, although there were several wheelchairs besides the benches where they were working. I was impressed by the intricacy of the technique I saw. I had already seen this sort of product sold in Saigon but had not thought to appreciate the talent behind creating these complicated pieces.

The Handicapped Handicrafts workshop

Sawing mother-of-pearl shells

Hand-painting the boards to create the completed artwork

Swan shapes made from mother-of-pearl

Using eggshells for textured patterns

Our next stop was the Cao Dai temple, just over an hour's drive west to the edge of the Vietnamese border with Cambodia, to a province called Tay Ninh, where most people follow the Cao Dai religion and speak Khmer (the national language of Cambodia) as well as Vietnamese. It was here that the Cao Dai religion was established in 1926, and is now followed by approximately 2 million Vietnamese. The religion, as best as I can comprehend, takes into account Taoist, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu and Confucian practices, and worships every god of these religions, becoming collectively a transcendent supreme being known as Cao Dai ( meaning high tower or platform). The core belief of the Cao Dai movement is to unite world religions in order to create peace. Followers use prayer and vegetarianism to seek the highest spiritual attainment of Buddha status, in order to 'break the cycle of life and death'. A unique religion to Vietnam, with a strongly nationalist political character, members of the religion had fought French colonialism and Vietnamese communism, and the religion has only been recognised by the Vietnamese government since 1997. Cao Dai temples have become tourist attractions due to their uniqueness to the country and their beautiful and intriguing architecture.


To my eye, the Cao Dai temple at Tay Ninh (also known as the Great Temple or the Holy See) was like a sugar-sweet palace with its pink, blue and yellow hues. The architecture combines the structure of a typical Catholic church with an oriental pagoda style. Inside, you will find patterned tiled floors, yellow walls and a pretty blue ceiling painted with clouds and stars. Pink-coloured pillars extend across the length of the interior, coiled by three-dimensional dragons. The altar is extremely extravagant, centred around a huge blueish sphere with an eye at the front. The left eye, outlined by a thick dark eyebrow, is the symbol of Caodaiism, representing the eye of God. Around the altar are gold vases, flowers, fruit and incense. Above the altar you can see images of god as depicted by different religions, although of course not by Islam as it is forbidden to depict the prophet Mohammed.

Cao Dai Grand Temple, Tay Ninh

Entering on the women's side

The interior of the temple

A priest burning incense at the altar

Around noon we headed to the upper level of the temple from where we watched the mass. There are four masses throughout the day- at 6am, 12pm, 6pm and 12am. In preparation, nuns and monks were seated on separate sides of the temple, where they sat on the floor chatting to each other. Most of these were very old but were still able to sit cross-legged on the tiled floor. At 12pm some mandolins started playing, which was soon accompanied by a beaten drum, as the troops of nuns and monks filed into the temple and made their way to assigned positions in the middle, facing the altar. The music grew and was accompanied by a choir of young girls singing, with the sound of a gong indicating for the nuns and monks to be seated and start praying.  Most of these were dressed in long white robes, besides six or seven priests dressed in yellow, red or blue robes. These colours, symbolic of Caodaiism, represent the particular branch followed by the wearer, our guide told us. Red represents Christianity, Islam and Confucianism, blue represents Taoism, and yellow represents Hinduism and Buddhism. I watched a senior monk patrol the praying monks, and on spotting a very elderly man at the back sat a little too far out of line, he tapped him repeatedly on the shoulder. The monk ignored this, and eventually this little old man was pulled roughly back into line, flashing a toothless grin like a naughty schoolboy. We watched the mass for around half an hour before returning to the bus.

It was a rough drive over bumpy roads to our final destination, the Cu Chi tunnels. Around seventy-five miles of tunnels were planned and dug by local people in the Cu Chi area, not far from Saigon, and at the time, close to a considerable US military base. The tunnels were used by the Viet Cong for military operations and to transport and store food, weaponry and other supplies. About 2 metres underground there were hospital, kitchen and other bunkers; at three metres' depth is the first layer of tunnels, the second at six metres and the third layer of tunnels is eight metres underground. We saw different entrances to these tunnels, some considerably tight as they were designed for the slender Vietnamese body, not 'big-boy Americans', as our guide put it. All the tunnels were hand-dug out out of the bare earth and were usually horribly infested with poisonous insects. As if to prove this point, a 15-cm long centipede crawled past our feet as we stood looking at one of the tunnel entrances. We had a chance to crawl through some of these tunnels. I went through a thirty-metre-long tunnel that had been made taller and wider for tubby tourists such as myself, but we were told that the tunnels are, on average, 80cm high and 60cm wide.

One of the less generous tunnel entrances

Another tunnel entrance

Something you could expect to find inside the tunnels

My turn!

We were shown examples of the amazing variety of hand-made booby-traps that were once hidden about this forest. Most involved a pit, a camouflaged swing door and "many sharp stick". A larger booby-trap was demonstrated by our guide. It was a 7-by-3-foot door in the ground disguised with leaves. When pushed at one end with a stick, it swung heavily the whole way round to reveal a deep pit below lined with upwards-pointing sharpened metal spikes. "No chance of survival", our guide said. That sent a shiver up my spine. Many of the original tunnels were also booby-trapped to catch any enemy soldiers that tried to invade them, with gaps that dropped through into deep pits that the Viet Cong knew to avoid. I found it incredible, too, how Viet Cong guerillas and Cu Chi locals alike could walk through these forests knowing where to avoid booby-traps that had been laid. As we walked through the forest I prayed there were none still undiscovered...

Demonstrating the swinging door

...Gruesome

No. 3: The clipping armpit trap

A captured American tank kept as a souvenir

Recreation of Cu Chi fighters turning unexploded US missiles into  landmines

Ho Chi Minh sandals to fit any foot. Made of rubber  tyres, worn by VC guerillas and Uncle Ho himself

It was an interesting day and a chance for me to get some deeper insight into two very different elements of Vietnamese culture and history. The Cu Chi tunnels were gory and fascinating. I was amazed at how untrained villagers had helped to plan and build these incredible tunnels, and at the courage of guerilla fighters to live in such horrible underground conditions. In contrast, the visit to the Cao Dai temple was a pleasant and relaxing experience- a very unique opportunity to discover an interesting and unusual religion.

Afternoon ice cream at Kem Bach Dang

I slept in again this morning, and Jessica woke me up sharply at 8.30. Like yesterday, it was raining heavily when my alarm went off at 6.30 and the storm outside relaxed me beautifully as I drifted back to sleep... We ate breakfast together, although I was having fried eggs with Vietnamese bread and Nescafe, whereas Jessica chose seaweed, rice and red bean paste tea. She lectured me on the importance of having a regular routine and not staying up all night talking to my boyfriend on Skype. I am having to get used to living in a much more disciplined household than I am used to. After breakfast I went for a run around the area, following a route Jessica showed me last night when we were cycling. It was possible to do this at 9.30 am only because it has been raining a lot in the past few days which has cooled the temperature down. Jessica advised me to appreciate this season as much as possible because come April, she says, I will be begging for rain.

Jessica had left for work by the time I went on my run. Although she has been formally retired since July, she still does work for her former company on a case-to-case basis. I met her in the city on her lunchbreak for a meal at Al Fresco's, a small chain started in Hanoi in 1996 by an Australian man. Over lunch Jessica complained about people trying making small-talk with her in the office and distracting her from her work; as she does not go in often these days, everyone is keen to speak to her, although she is evidently less interested in speaking to them.

I met Annie, who had just finished a motorbike-riding lesson, and, as promised, she took me to Kem Bach Dang, Saigon's oldest ice cream parlour. In fact there are now two Kem Bach Dangs, one on each side of Le Loi street at the junction with Duong Pasteur. We entered the right-hand cafe, painted orange, because it is the original ice cream shop, Annie told me. It is a small establishment where pairs of people were sat drinking the free iced tea provided, and eating ice cream served in tall glasses or coconuts. I was expecting to be able to photograph the tubs of ice cream on display, but was surprised to find there were no ice creams at the front of the shop, and instead it was necessary to order a sundae-style ice cream combination from the menu. This surprised me as I was expecting something more traditional, but nonetheless the ice cream was very tasty and refreshing. I opted for strawberry in the end. Originally I had chosen durian ice cream as something unique to try, but when Annie ordered and the waitress realised the durian was for me, not her, she insisted I try a spoonful first, so as not to 'waste' the ice cream when I inevitably didn't like it. Durian is a yellow fruit found in a prickly shell about the size of a melon, with a famously vile, sweaty smell, but a delicious flavour. Or maybe I'm wrong about the delicious flavour...

Annie with her 'eskimo' ice cream

...and my yummy strawberry ice cream

Tucking in to our ice creams, I asked Annie about Exeter, where she studied at university and somewhere I have never been to. This led to her telling me an amusing story about the type of character we see a lot of in Leeds around university term time. Annie was in catered halls for her first year, and her canteen was shared between three different halls of residence. One day, having dinner, a young man from a very expensive set of halls asked to join Annie's friends at their table. Immediately after sitting down he turned to Annie and demanded, "You're the only Asian in here, where are you from?". Taken aback, she told him she was originally from Vietnam. He went on, "I literally don't know anything about that country, do you have electricity there?", to which Annie replied "Yes, we do. We even have the Internet, that's how I found out about the University of Exeter!". Recounting this story to Jessica later, she was confused at how such an ignorant person could get a place at a British university, but I was not in the least surprised.

I said goodbye to Annie as she got me into a taxi headed to Sinh Tourist on De Tham street, in the heart of the backpacker district. Better known by its former name of Sinh Cafe, this travel agency is recommended by everyone as the place to go for tours from, and around, Ho Chi Minh City. I booked my ticket for tomorrow's trip to the Cu Chi tunnels and Cao Dai temples, at a cost of 195,000d (just short of £6). Tomorrow I will have an early start in time for an 8.15 departure from Sinh Cafe, and a full day spent at these two sights.

Tran Hung Dao statue, Me Linh Square

I had thought about going to a museum for a few hours after this, but I was starting to feel very tired with a headache and decided to take the bus home and have a nap. I got into a taxi waiting outside the travel agency, but in hindsight suspect it was probably an unlicensed taxi with a fake 'Mai Linh' logo as the fare was about three times what it should have been. I was then further annoyed to have marginally missed the bus, having spent too long down at the waterfront reading when I had half an hour to spare (although I managed to take a photo of the Tran Hung Dao statue in daylight). So, irritatingly, I had to spend an hour in a coffee shop until I could meet Jessica to take a taxi home.

I had told Jessica that I wasn't feeling well, and she recommended some traditional Vietnamese medicine as a cure, as administered by Thuy. I wasn't sure, now only interested in taking some painkillers and going to bed, but thought I should try it as an experience. Back home, Thuy infused lemongrass, ginger and orange peel in a large pot of boiling water. I thought this would make a lovely tea, but that was not the intention. The heavy pot was taken to the upstairs bathroom where it sat steaming on the floor with a tiny blue stool beside it. After convincing Jessica not to make me take all my clothes off, I was sat on the stool with my head bent over the pot, my hair tucked into a shower cap and a towel over my head. It was a sauna experience for my face, and after getting sufficiently sweaty and having a hot shower and tea, I did feel much better.

Jessica returns

It's been a lazy day today so not a lot to report, I'm afraid. Jessica returned this morning after six days in Taiwan, and I was glad to see her again. Happy bounced up all around as Jessica brought her luggage inside, instantly seating herself on the bottom step of the stairs and flinging her suitcase open. She produced endless Tupperware boxes of rice and spices she had brought back from her Taipei home, which she handed over to Thuy with a brief explanation as to how to use each item in her cooking. We had lunch together, over which I took the chance to ask her all the questions I had had stored up since she left. Particularly pressing for me was to find out whether my boyfriend could come stay with us over December, including the Christmas period when my family and some of Jessica's friends will also be visiting, and we are planning to take a trip to Angkor Wat. She agreed to this, which I was delighted about, and spent some time researching the Saigon-Hanoi Reunification Line railway on the brilliant The Man in Seat Sixty One website (http://www.seat61.com/ for insightful information on train travel across the world). I'm keen to see the 'real' Vietnam and think that the two- to three-day journey across the length of the country would be an excellent and adventurous way to do so, with Chris as a perfect travelling companion. December will certainly be an exciting month for me if all goes as planned, as I hope to see Hanoi, Angkor Wat, Halong Bay, Hue and perhaps more!

Thinking in the nearer future, I also looked through some tour leaflets Jessica and I had picked up from a travel agency last week, as Jessica suggested I take a trip on Friday while she is away. I'm interested in taking a day trip to see the Cu Chi tunnels and a Cao Dai temple. Two contrasting sights, the tunnels at Cu Chi are part of a wide network of underground tunnels across the country used by Viet Cong guerilla fighters during the American War; the temple is the most famous Cao Dai temple in the country, known for its stunning beauty and intriguing ceremonies. The two sights are quite often done together as a tourist package. Tomorrow I will be meeting Annie in Saigon again, so I will have the chance to book this trip.

Trying to grab the last hour of daylight, we set out for a bike ride in the evening, wearing yellow bin-bag raincoats on account of the miserable drizzly weather. These were hot and uncomfortable to cycle in, although they did look very attractive. I chose a lady's bicycle with a basket for aesthetic reasons, but soon realised I had picked the short straw as it was too small, had no gears and screeched with an ear-burning intensity when I had to brake suddenly. The journey was a bit frightening at points on the main road with no helmet or lights, and I hoped the luminosity of the yellow bin-bag would make motorcyclists aware of my presence.

We stopped off at an up-market deli stocking Europe and American food-stuffs, so I now know where to go if I have a craving for Bonne Maman jam, Peroni lager, Irn Bru or any flavour of Haagen Dazs. Jessica bought some cereal and sun-dried tomatoes, and urged me so strongly to chose something that I eventually settled on a bag of couscous in order that we could leave the shop. We reached our destination of the Crescent, a shopping, gym and restaurant complex shaped around a curved lake. A damp Wednesday evening, it was very empty besides (bizarrely) a young couple having wedding photos taken, and otherwise only a thousand toads and crickets in an orchestra of ugly noises coming from the nearby park.

We ate at a Thai restaurant, which was nice although I was feeling under the weather with a cold I have somehow picked up, and homesick as it was now dark outside and I had spent the rest of the day indoors. I hope it will have done me some good to take it easy today, and that I will have perked up a little by tomorrow.

Our dinner date

Getting lost and annoyed with myself

I had hoped to do some exercise this morning, cycling or jogging around the neighbourhood, but slept in until 10am, by which time it was too hot. When my alarm went off at 6.30am I woke to the sound of heavy tropical rain outside and in my confused, sleepy state thought that this meant I didn't need to get up. So instead I settled for a walk around 11am, and took Happy along as company. Thuy gave me a bamboo stick to walk with, in order to beat off any local mutts that came near the little princess. We kept to the shade, and walked to a park around the corner. Jessica's neighbourhood, a quiet community protected by security at the perimeters, is centred around three or four (I've not quite figured out the lay of the land yet!) well-kept parks. We entered one of these, an attractive garden with a pond. Overhanging the pond edges were wooden platforms under red tiled roofs supported by pillars, which provided park-goers some shade from the sun and a place to have a quiet moment. There weren't many others around at this time; a man sleeping on a bench beneath one of these structures, and a young couple making out under another. I walked into one of these shelters and tied Happy to the bench where she sat panting in the shade- I was coping better with the heat than she was! I took this opportunity to take a photo of her, which she normally shies away from, as I knew she was now too hot and bothered to complain. I then read the first chapter of an economics book Jessica had given me in preparation for her book group meeting next weekend, which I will be attending. The book is Scroogenomics by Joel Waldfogel, which argues that buying presents for the holidays destroys value and is damaging to society. I have little interest in this, especially as I have no intention of buying any Christmas presents anyway this year. (Sorry Grace!) At one moment I looked up from my book to notice that a photography party had appeared a short way from me, where a young couple were being photographed posing with flowers and balloons. I don't exaggerate when I say that I've seen at least one couple having wedding photographs taken each day that I've been in HCMC, mostly around Notre Dame cathedral. It must be the season. This woman was not in a wedding dress, but a short turquoise summer dress, so I imagined the photos were being taken for an engagement announcement or something similar.

Lunch was delicious today, and for the first time since I arrived I ate nearly everything Thuy prepared. Her portion sizes are suited for Jessica, which even I, a growing lass known for my hearty appetite, can't keep up with. Today it was fried tofu and fish pieces, rice and vegetables. Thuy was very anxious to know if I would eat the tofu, as she has had not cooked it for me before. With everything she prepares for me for the first time, be it tofu, eggs or ham, she will come over and ask "You can eat this?". She is pleased and relieved when I say yes, which is always. I imagine she'll soon realise I'll eat anything she serves, unless she plans to start trying me with sea urchins or pigs' hearts or anything. (Notably, Annie and I saw a selection of organs for sale at Ben Thanh market yesterday. They were grey and rubbery-looking, piled together on a shelf and pressed up against a glass window, so appetising).

After lunch the rain began again, but I had already planned to the 2.15 bus into town. The buses are hourly, or less frequent, and so I had to stick to my plan. It is only a thirty second walk to the bus stop from Jessica's apartment- to the end of the road and around the corner- but Thuy worries terribly about lateness so always pushes me out of the house and urges me to run even when I set off for the bus with a few minutes to spare. I have to persuade her not to send me off ten minutes early as the kitchen clock is too fast. Jessica is convinced that Thuy purposefully sets the clock ten minutes ahead as she is so concerned about Jessica being late for her appointments.

I had travelled to town to return to the clinic I went to yesterday, to see Dr. Frankenstein again. Happily, this time I left successfully, having had my Hepatitis B vaccination done without any more hassle. After this I headed towards the Museum of Ho Chi Minh City, recommended in my Lonely Planet (such a tourist!) for its wide range of interesting and unusual exhibits. On the way down Duong Pasteur I felt tired and it was starting to rain so I stopped in at Highlands Coffee on Nguyen Du. I was keen to visit this popular Vietnamese chain as it has an interesting history. The first branch was opened in the capital Hanoi in 1998 by David Thai, a Vietnamese American, and was in fact the first private company to be registered in Vietnam by an overseas national at the time. Thai was inspired to open the chain after witnessing the growth of Starbucks, which originated in his hometown of Seattle. Interestingly, you cannot find a Starbucks anyway in Ho Chi Minh City, nor in the rest of Vietnam, as I found from the chain's online store locator. Neither are there any McDonald's in the city. The only American fast food chains I have seen so far have been a few large KFC and Pizza Huts and one Domino's Pizza.This amuses me as before I left for this country, a friend asked me which recognisable chains I thought I'd find in the city. I told her I thought there would be Starbucks and McDonald's, but none others.

At Highlands I was treated to waiter service- greeted at the door, shown to a seat and presented with a menu. I had a warm slice of banana cake and a strong, hot coffee, served the traditional Vietnamese way with condensed milk, for a modest 61,000d (around £2). I notice that my regular eating habits have returned to me. For the first few days I had struggled to eat three square meals, but now, after living here for almost a week, my appetite seems to be back to normal and I have regained my usual craving for something sweet around 4pm, a good sign I hope!

As I left Highlands it was pushing 6 O'clock and starting to get dark, so I made my way swiftly to the museum as I had a bus to catch at 7.15. At this point you are probably considering something quite important that didn't cross my mind at this point, but I will get to that. I followed my Lonely Planet map towards the site of the museum, careful of the rush hour traffic and glad to be exploring further afield than Dong Khoi, the street that connects my bus stop to the cathedral, post office, clinic and palace. I slowed to a stop when I realised I didn't know where to go next, and slowly it dawned on me that I had confused the key on my map, and was now stood outside the People's Committee, not the Museum of Ho Chi Minh City, although luckily the museum was not far away. Here, a helpful man with an American accent asked if I was lost. I told him I was looking for the museum. He pointed me in the right direction but told me it would be closed at this time. Of course. I like to think that I have my head screwed on pretty well, but I certainly have my moments, usually to do with timings. I had spent too long in the coffee shop and missed my chance to go the museum, which I had been really looking forward to. Never mind, I thought, as I have plenty of days ahead to fill with wandering around the city's museums and galleries.

Instead, I wandered towards Me Linh Square, a roundabout that circles a statue of Tran Hung Dao, the 13th century warrior who led the Bao Viet army in repelling two attempted Mongolian invasions. He is celebrated as one of history's finest military tacticians. Attempting to cross the road to see the front side of the statue, I thought that perhaps this roundabout could rival the Arc De Triomphe for traffic volume. Alas, I couldn't get a decent picture of the statue because it was dark, and, without wanting to state the obvious, the statue was very tall.

As I walked to the square, I had had an interesting moment halfway down Dong Khoi. I chanced to look up and saw the Caravelle Hotel in front of me, which put a smile on my face. I had passed this hotel many times already, where I watched couples nibbling on afternoon tea through a large window above the street, but had not yet clocked the name. The significance was that, after talking to my mum and dad, I worked out that Martin, the man who recognised me in Sea Links in Mui Ne, must have met me at the Caravelle hotel some twelve years ago. We had stayed in this hotel for one night, as Jessica had somehow won a night's stay for two in a beautiful suite here, a chance that she donated to my parents. It's even more remarkable to consider that this man had recognised me from the age of seven, knowing that I had been at the hotel on only one occassion, and was technically being 'smuggled' in! I thought I'd go in for a look around, to see if I remembered any of it. Wondering how far I could get without a room key, I walked into the Caravelle with an air of self-importance, I hooked my umbrella over my forearm and held my LP to my chest as if it were the FT. But when I saw myself in the lift mirror I was brought back down to earth at the sight of my scraggly hair and the plaster that was still on my arm from my vaccination earlier. The lobby of the Caravelle was nothing to see, so I went to the top floor to the Saigon Saigon rooftop bar, but this too was nothing extraordinary so I headed out. I remember the luxury suite we had stayed in the night, in particular the magnificent platter of tropical fruit in the central area that we devoured much of, and was disappointed that the hotel lobby was not as grandiose. As I made my way to the exit my eyes somehow deceived me and I almost fell down a set of stairs to the glass door! In all I wouldn't recommend the Caravelle for a walk-through visit.

I also had the chance to do a little shopping in my spare hour before the bus. Pretty paper greetings cards with pop-up pictures of Saigon sights are sold everywhere in the city at the moment, and I was keen to buy some for friends back home with birthdays this month. Yet I had so far been unable to find a stall offering these cards at less than 100,000d a pop (an extortionate £2.50-£3). But today I managed to negotiate three for 60,000, using my hard-headed Yorkshire tightness as a useful bargaining aid. Fifteen minutes before my bus was due, feeling at a loose end and with new confidence in my haggling skills, I tried my hand at getting a new purse, which I knew could be found at any corner of this street. At home I use a coin purse, which is no good for a currency that is all in notes, so I was certainly in need of a new one. Who knew you could pick up a real Chanel purse for US$5? What a wonderful country.

I got the bus home, feeling satisfied with the day's activity even though I had not managed to get to the museum. But this feeling only lasted until Sky Garden, a huge apartment complex in the district centre, where all the other passengers got off the bus and the engine switched off. Oh dear. It seemed I had taken the wrong bus; although it was identical to the one I needed and turned up at almost exactly the same time, this one did not continue around the neighbourhoods. I had forgotten to check for 'S', not 'H', at the top of the bus. Now I had to get a taxi to My Thai, but I was dropped off at the wrong side and had to walk around in the dark for a good twenty minutes before I found my way home again. I returned home very fed up, a lousy end to an enjoyable day. I can only expect to make more mistakes like these over the coming weeks, they are an avoidable part of travelling to a new place with an eagerness to explore. I'll try not to get too fed up when I get lost, take the wrong bus or time my day wrongly. I'm so keen to know the city like a local but I'll have to be patient as I get used to this new lifestyle. Walking around today I felt I was getting in step with the motion of the city, and really enjoyed the chance to decide my own course as I wandered around by myself.

Strange sights and chance finds at Cho Ben Thanh

This morning I was delighted at the prospect of eggs for breakfast, which Thuy fried for me and served with fresh Vietnamese bread. These short, light baguettes are used for Banh Mi, a popular sandwich that can be bought on the streets of Saigon, where the customer chooses a meat filling to be served inside the roll. (I was told that this street snack inspired the founder of American fast food sandwich chain Subway, a fact that I doubt does justice to Banh Mi, which is meant to be delicious.) After breakfast I had a chore to do in visiting a clinic to have a Hepatitis B vaccination that was due. Jessica had given me the name and address of an international clinic near the palace and the number of a girl named Annie, whose aunt used to work with Jessica, and who had kindly agreed to help me with this task. I enjoyed the bus journey into the city, passing through District 4 which was bustling with mid-morning trade of locally manufactured products. This certainly seemed to be the area in the city to come to for men's shoes. I found Columbia Clinic easily and met Annie outside- conveniently we had both arrived at exactly the same time. Unfortunately, I was not able to have my vaccination. The doctor, an extremely gangly Swiss man who never once removed his surgical mask throughout our consultation and reminded me unnervingly of Dr. Frankenstein, told me that he wasn't comfortable giving me the second dose of an accelerated course until at least a week after the first, and I would have to come back tomorrow. Although this was irritating, I was relieved to find that communication at the clinic was easy and hassle-free, and felt confident I could come here again by myself the following day.

Annie and I had around an hour and a half free, before she went to a swing dance class and I took the bus home for lunch. She showed me around the Ben Thanh market, Saigon's largest, which was great to look around but not the best for cheap purchases, she told me, because it was very tourist-orientated. Annie is a really lovely girl and it was very generous of her to come to the clinic with me and then to show me around. Although she was born in Vietnam, she has only recently moved back to Ho Chi Minh City after eight years overseas, studying in Singapore for her IB, and then at Exeter University, from which she recently graduated with a business/management degree. She has now been back in the city for a month, taking dance classes, doing occasional work for Jessica and trying to get her head back around the Saigon traffic.

Customers waiting for fruit orders

The markets were very interesting to walk around, along narrow routes between colourful and tightly-packed stalls. Seeing the jewelled scarves and dresses I remembered that Jessica was taking me to a charity ball on Saturday night with an Arabian Nights theme, and I had yet to sort out a costume for it. I explained this to Annie, who immediately understood the sort of style I was looking for. She spoke a few sentences in Vietnamese including the words 'Ali Baba' to a woman working on a scarf stall. This woman had nothing appropriate herself but led us around the corner and down a very narrow passage to another clothing stall where I was immediately presented a beautiful pair of blue silk pantaloons. It was very impressive that we had found something so perfect as quickly and easily as that. I remembered how only last week, back in Leeds, I had dragged my best friend around Kirkgate market for an hour looking for a Chinese-style dress to wear for my leaving party. I knew they were sold at this market but no-one I asked was able to help me to locate the stall I needed. With this in mind, I had thought it would be an impossible task to assemble a Princess Jasmine-style outfit from somewhere in Ho Chi Minh City with only a week, and yet here it was, sorted out only five minutes after I raised the idea.

Dried fish

After this we looked around the food stalls, where we saw dried fish and shrimps and Vietnamese sweets, syrupy and colourful and served in tall drinking glasses, with layers of different sweets creating eye-catching stripes. We then saw the wet market, having to dodge the streams of water that came rushing at us from the fish tables. Annie was amused by my amazement at the types of seafood available, like blue crabs and live snails with beautiful spiralled shells, that were slithering all over each other in a bucket. Annie said she will take me to eat snails when I have got used to the Vietnamese diet! Another thing that frightened me was the sight of a stack of small live crabs, lined up uniformly in a crate with their faces upwards and beady eyes looking straight at me. They were bubbling slightly at the mouths and occasionally waving their claws. They looked like an army and I half-expected them to suddenly leap towards me in attack-mode. So I moved quickly on.

Sweeties, Vietnamese style

We left the markets and took a taxi to my bus stop. We passed Kem Bach Dang, an ice cream parlour that has been in Saigon since before French colonisation, which Annie also promised to take me to. I returned home by bus to a lunch prepared by Thuy. I was interested to identify tiny dried shrimps in the soup she made for me, which earlier I had seen for sale in the market. Happy sat beside me throughout my meal, imploring me with her big sad eyes, and I indulged her with pieces of delicious smoky-tasting pork. It seemed to pay off as in the afternoon she was much friendlier with me than usual. I was feeling tired, my body aching all over from yesterday's run, so I spent the rest of the day at home.

Live blue crabs

Sun, sea and intense physical suffering

Before the race

It was a 5.45 start this morning and the sky was still pink as we gathered in the uniform running vests provided for the occasion of the Mui Ne half marathon, of which I was hoping to run 5km. We took a speedy motorbike journey to the Sea Links hotel, which must be the most expensive resort in the area, judging from the smart lobby which boasts a vast chandelier and beautiful sea views from the terrace balcony. There was little delay before the race began from the entrance to the lobby, and all the runners set off at the same time, whether going for 5km, 10km or the full 21km half marathon.

The course began following the hotel driveway out to the main road, a fair distance that allowed me to admire the resort's villas, sold as homes, to the right, and to the left a huge Moorish-style castle that was being built on the 168-hectare Sea Links City site. This distance was downhill, until we reached the end where we turned right onto an incline up the main road that we had travelled down on motorbike yesterday. By this time the racers had already dispersed and naturally I had slipped towards the back. At about this moment I began to feel the baking heat. Despite this, and the fact that I promised not to be competitive, I didn't want to fall too far behind so I kept a steady pace, looking forward to reaching the crest of the hill and beginning a downhill stretch. But to my disappointment, when I reached the top I found it was instead a long flat stretch to the horizon, and was confronted with the daunting sight of a hundred runners ahead of me disappearing into the distance in a long line.

I kept my head down to the ground to avoid looking at the endless road ahead. I felt as though I was in a sauna. Soon I remembered to start looking out for my turning point. The route followed one long road for about 10km, with two marked turning points for the 5km and 10km races, whilst those doing 21km continued to the end and then back again. At the first water station I saw a woman ahead of me turning around and jogging back in the direction we had come from. Surely I couldn't have reached my turning point already? But indeed, the road was marked with a U-turn arrow marked with '5km'. Laughably in hindsight, I remember feeling slightly disappointed that I had to turn back already and wondered if I could have managed to go further. Not knowing the route in advance, I must have done the first 2.5km a little too confidently and hadn't realised quite how far I'd already come, and would have to cover again on the return stretch. The way back was very hard.

I started back uphill alone, as very few people were doing the 5km event, and by now the woman I'd seen turn back before me was some way ahead. Somehow the heat felt more intense now I was running alone, as though the other runners were no longer there to share my pain. I saw that the castle on the hotel grounds was well in the distance. Another woman caught up with me but I was in no mood to compete so gladly let her overtake me. I crossed over the road to run on the pavement on the opposite side, where there was some intermittent shade from palm trees. Nonetheless, I eventually slowed to walking pace for a time, and when I tried to start running again my legs felt like they were made of lead. The rest of the way was spent between jogging and walking, and I let my tongue hang out like an overheated dog because there was no-one else around. The hill up the hotel driveway was hideous, but towards the top I was spurred on by hotel staff and security guards, and sprinted up the short marble slope to the finish line at the hotel entrance, to the cheers of the organisers and spectators. At this point I feel the need to acknowledge that my 5km was a mere pimple on the half marathon that many of my group completed in the same conditions as I did, and I won't pretend otherwise. But the 5km 'fun run' (ha!) was challenge enough for me, being not yet used to the climate, only an occasional jogger and by no means at my physical peak. I hope that by sharing my impression of the suffering I can give some indication towards what the 10 and 21km racers probably had to go through.

Throughout my run I was convinced I was doing very badly, but when I reached the finish I was surprised to be congratulated on my speed by those who were waiting in the lobby. I finished in 33.16 minutes, a time I was chuffed with as it is only a few minutes more than it would normally take me to run 5km back home in Leeds. Considering the heat and my current lack of fitness, I had expected to finish in 35-40 minutes. I had finished third out of around ten doing the 5km, which I was very happy with. But at this point all I could really think about was throwing myself into the swimming pool. The air conditioning in the lobby was not as cold as I'd hoped, so it took me a long time to cool down and fully recover. I then had a lot of time waiting around for the 10km and 21km runners to finish, during which time I drank lots of water, ate bananas, wandered endlessly around the lobby, had a sports massage and chatted with other runners. Then a really remarkable thing happened. A member of the hotel staff named Martin started talking to me and asked if I had been to Ho Chi Minh City when I was younger. As it transpired, he recognised me from the last time I was in the city, twelve years ago at the age of seven, a little girl with fair skin, a ginger bob and a matching younger sister. I had been staying in a hotel with my family that  he then worked at.
"You were really lovely," he told me, "and you are still lovely now!"
I was totally astounded and felt very touched. I told everyone in my group and they were all equally blown away that this man had remembered my face from all those years ago.

The awards ceremony was held at 10am with prizes given to the winners of each age and gender category for the 10km and 21km races. There were a lot of champions amongst the girls of our group. All three prizes from the women's 20-39 category for the 10km were awarded to members of our trip. Miriam, who had organised much of the weekend and is a very keen runner, took first place; Shoko was surprised to find that she had come second and Jessie, a really friendly Taiwanese girl who works for Puma, came in third. In the women's senior category for the same race, Yvonne took second place, and also finished third of all the women in the race. Finally, Jasmine the trooper hobbled on stage with crippled feet to collect a third place trophy for the women's 20-39 category of the half marathon. I was so impressed by everyone who completed 10km or 21km in that killing heat- I know I couldn't have stayed out a minute longer. Those who I talked to who finished the half marathon invariably described it as 'total pain', 'pure suffering' or 'torture for the mind'. Despite this, the heroic performances I saw today and the high spirits after the awards ceremony inspired me get back into running again while I'm here. Funnily enough, all the medals given to the racers at the finish line were the same, so I am now the proud owner of a medal declaring me to be a Mui Ne Half Marathon Finisher! Photos from the race can be viewed at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sportingrepublic/

At midday, after we had all had the chance to shower and change (I had been wearing my running clothes for three hours after finishing my race), we headed out for a champions' lunch at Lam Tong, a restaurant on the sea front supposedly famous for its great seafood and terrible service. I realised that this was my first Vietnamese meal since I arrived, as Thuy cooks Taiwanese food for Jessica and I had only yet eaten at Western-style restaurants. My shrimp with noodles was simple but fresh, and I relished the chance to have a large plate of food and a beautiful sea view while I relaxed and enjoyed the company. Back at Nathalie's after lunch it was time for champagne and orange juice (Buck's Fizz to British people but 'Mimosa' to the rest of the world, it seems), in the final few hours before we took the coach back to Saigon.

Lam Tong restaurant, Mui Ne

My first Vietnamese meal!

Yo! -the Vietnamese word for 'cheers'

I've had a wonderful first weekend in Vietnam, I really couldn't ask for anything better to perk me up at a time that I'm feeling a bit homesick, and to make me excited about my new life here. I'm also proud of myself for completing the 5km run in good time in conditions that are totally unnatural for me. I feel very grateful to Yvonne for arranging for me to join the trip last-minute. I hope I will get the chance to go back to Mui Ne, or to see more of the Vietnamese coast, as a relaxing retreat from the craziness of Saigon. Jessica returns on Wednesday, and my plans for the next few days are a bit sketchy. I think I should spend some time doing some research to feed my inquiring mind that has soaked up a lot of sights in the past few days.

And finally...

I had to include this photo at some point. This is the resident dog of Nathalie resort, who has her dinner served on top of an old-fashioned snooker table. Uploaded for Chris x