SURPRISE, SURPRISE, SURPRISE; Not every $10 hotel is a bargain... Our Phnom Penh hotel was... Well, we were glad to get out of there. The neighbourhood was equally unattractive. In the lobby I overheard a young couple asking the price of a room with a balcony... "NO,!!! Don't do it I thought" and only just resisted the urge to verbalise it. Stepping outside the hotel, I waited until they emerged. "Do yourself a favor, do not stay here, it's not worth it". They were Moroccan, he was a doctor working for the "Peace Core". "Wow, I didn't know that still existed" I said. "Yes, it's the organization that Kennedy set up in '62, I am a doctor for the volunteers, they get a small allowance each month and we provide free, medical care", he explained proudly. "I understand exactly how it works... ". Another nice little conversation ensued.
A room with a view
The room looks OK from a distance..., but this was the "upgrade" we got when we rejected the first one...
Disturbing house rules
THE SPEED BOAT DOWN THE MEKONG; The Mekong river is enormous. It's runs 4,350 km from the Tibetan Plateau through China, Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. We jumped onto a speed boat in Phnom Penh that would take us across the border back to Vietnam. Strangely for 100km or more, we were the only vessel on the river. Don't know why? Conversation with the German and Spanish tourists and Vietnamese crew was limited so we sat back and watched the brown water go by, blogged and slept.
Boarding in Phnom Penh
The Mekong
How wide is this river?
Border stop for immigration...
... a fairly relaxed affair
Sorry, crooked, but pretty
Looks like I'm posing for a Vietnamese communist propaganda poster
Welcome to Chau Doc
THE UNEASY HOUR; We got off the boat in a Mekong delta town named Chau Doc where it seems, practically nobody speaks English. Alex asked the boat captain how we get to the bus station and he pointed to the waiting sharks... Motorbike taxi. Before we knew it, we and 3 backpacks were screaming through the streets of Chau Doc, still feeling ok, believing we were heading to the bus station... Little did we know... The bikes stopes at a lean-to stall on the side of the road. "You get off now. Sit, buy drink". This is no bus station, not even a bus stop. "Yes, yes, you wait here, bus will stop, I call bus." No matter what we said we were not able to get them to take us to a bonafied stop. Getting nervous now... No one around speaks English. We lost our Vietnamese phone sim in Cambodia so we cannot phone a friend. It's early evening and we are not feeling good about this. We tried to talk to a taxi driver but didn't get far. What to do? Of the two motorbike riders, the cocky one was taking the lead, the other one didn't speak any English. The more we protested the more the second guy looked uncomfortable... I decided to photograph the number plates of the two bikes so I could show the police if it became necessary. "Ok, ok, get on again". But they just took us 1 kilometer down the road to another stall. "We will take you (100km) to Can Tho on moto... Just $15 each". "NO WAY, we are not going on your bikes!!!" "Yes, why you not? You help us". The head guy would jump on his bike and ride off then reappear. Eventually he gave in. "Follow me". We picked up the packs, refused the offer to put them on some other guys cart, and cautiously followed him around the corner and up a side raod. Where is he taking us?Lo-and-behold, a bus station just 5 minutes walk from where had been waiting... Such a relief, we stormed off, leaving the conmen behind. Even there practically no one spoke English but we were able to purchase tickets to our destination. What a relief. The motorbike taxi's ploy was to detain us until the bus had gone so as to force us to pay them who knows how much for a ridiculous 100km ride in the tropical rain...
Away we go
Taken for a ride
The would be swindlers, not the kid in the middle
Number plates, just in case...
THE SLOW BOAT "UP THE RIVER"; Rise and shine, it's 5 am and we are off to the floating market,,, with an old lady... Here we go again... The market was what it was... Not much. To the untrained eye, it looked it looked like people in boats selling pineapples to people in boats that already had pineapples... But they seemed happy enough. The boat lady didnt speak a world of Englsh. Technically, that's not true, she could say "Yes". So whatever we asked the answer was, "Yes". "How much further?" "Yes". Not terribly satisfying but what to do?
Would you buy a river cruise from this lady? Why not. 
Off to school
Friendly smiles. Interesting that the majority of boat drivers are ladies.
Chinese style cross oars
The father and son moment
To market, to market...
... to buy a pineapple...
Pineapples anyone?
Washing the dishes
Washing the fishes
Repairing the boat house roof
The "selfy"
Up the canal
The next thing we knew she dropped us off in the middle of goodnes knows where, gesturing for us to follow the muddy path...
Someone's lunch in the making
Great, another muddy path, where is that boat lady??? Has she abandoned us???
The village
A DOSE OF BALI BELLY AND A TROPICAL RASH; The one thing I was MOST afraid of on this southeast Asia extravaganza was the old tummy bug that I almost always experience (and Alexandra always seem to avoid) when travelling. The bad news is, Alex was struck down for two days back in Hanoi. The good news for me was that I never did get sick. Why??? Could it be the probiotic tablets, the regular yogurts, the hand sanitizer, living on bottled water, the cheap whisky, the Travelan pills we popp ed at before those especially suspect meals, or a combination of the above, or good luck??? What ever it was, I am so excited.
A canal village restaurant, better pop another Travelan tablet for this one just to be sure. Just love that Vietnamese food. Sadly best not eat the greens that have been washed in the brown river water.
THE CULTURAL GARDEN PATH; Something we had read about previously and found to be true on numerous occasions. If you ask an oriental person a question, for instance, "where is this address?" they feel culturally bound to provide you with an answer. They daren't disappoint by saying, "I'm sorry, I do not know". So they always provide an answer and a confident one at that. Doesn't matter if it is correct or not. You smile, thank them and head off in the direction described. They smile, they have fulfilled their obligation. Evereyone is happy... Until you realise that they have absolutely no idea where that address is. There is no malice intended. Simply fulfilling cultural duty. That's not to say that all answers are incorrect. So one never quite knows who to believe. This was our experience on so many occasions we lost count. At the bus station, before we can even say where we want to go, some guy in a uniform emphatically points to one of 30 busses... "you don't know where I want to go". VERY ANNOYING!!! We quickly learn to turn our backs on such people, regroup, and look around for a sane person. Once we have some sort of plausible direction, we begin to go there... but repeatedly stop and ask others in the hopes of establishing some sort of triangulation coordinates that just might get us to where we need to be.
Well, we will soon be back in Saigon and on a plane for home. One more blog to come.
Love-you-bye
Lloydnalex
