THE SEYMOUR MONKEY CHRONICLES:

Banana pancake breakfast hits the spot, then we hit the beach. The closet wanker in me views the offshore islands, kilometres of sun swept beach and pristine ocean and takes a mental snapshot captioned with hues of turquoise, emerald and gold. The closet yobbo spies the beach side full body massage and beer service.  As we strolled further the tempting vista was suddenly ruined by a Vietnamese bloke with his cock out, doing his bit to raise the acidity of the beach - We made mental notes to sun bake on the banana lounges.

It seems as if public urination is an accepted part of Vietnamese life. The smell of stale piss is as much a fragrance of the cities as the cooking odours of Jasmin rice, curried prawns and Pho soup. Blokes piss in alleys the world over but it seems to occur in Vietnam without any hint of shame or alcohol inducement. In Saigon van drivers pull over to piss in the gutters and pedestrians take a leak against walls in peak hour. Restaurants place urinals in the hallway leading to the Water Closets rather than within. Gentlemen wishing to partake of said facilities are provided with the opportunity to chat with passers by to the main lavatory facilities, both male and female, as well as the waitresses rinsing pots and pans in the adjacent gulley trap. This proximity of shitters to kitchens and associated sanitary issues lead to my second rule of travel in Vietnam. Never look in the kitchens on the way to the dunny.

The beachfront of Nha Trang is dotted with islands of banana lounge enclaves spaced a few hundred metres apart.  For an outlay of a measly 10,000 dong ($0.85AU) one can secure a comfy spot to relax and be waited on by discrete waiters who keep the annoying freelance beach traders at bay. The warm ocean was inviting although the beach dropped off sharply. The beach break occurred literally a few metres from the shore and when you ventured in it was not uncommon for an incoming wave to swamp a thigh high wader out of his depth in seconds. The beach also had a fairly strong undertow and it was a brave swimmer who ventured too far from the shore given the absence of anything remotely resembling lifeguards on duty. The best sport was reclining with a cold Saigon ale on the lounges watching the wardrobe malfunctions of the bikini girls getting dumped by the regular mini tsunamis.

Further along the beach were the resorts. Lap pools, wet bars and fat middle aged Europeans showing way too much flesh. We quickly retreated back down the beach to try and cleanse the visions of sixty year old blokes in G-bangers and pre war mammaries from our brains with a few Tigers. Rosie offered to shout me a massage and I thought “When in Rome…”
 
Like every second Vietnamese person we had a conversation with on our trip my masseuse had friends in Melbourne. We made some small talk and then as I drifted off into La La Land she resumed her conversation with her friends who were sitting around the tent. After about fifteen minutes of animated Vietnamese conversation she asked me to move position and apologised for chatting and hoped it didn’t bother me. I told her I didn’t mind but was curious as to the subject that had all of them so excited.  She said that they were discussing a program that had been on television. A Vietnamese show called “Who wants to be a millionaire?”

The whole of Vietnam seems to be fascinated with this show. The night before we had noted that all the shops, hotels and restaurants that we went into or walked past seemed to be tuned in. A total franchise production - Same music, same set, same format and drawn out questions with a host more like a librarian than a football club president. I hoped that the “million” in question was paid in a currency other than Dong.

The hour long massage only went for fifty minutes but I was happy to end it. The first half hour was great but the last twenty minutes on my arms and legs made me feel like I had gone the distance with Danny Green. Over the next four days my legs ached continually and I didn’t get much sleep at night. This was not the happy ending of the footy club locker room yarns.   

 
By now our small wardrobe selection that we had brought with us was in serious need of a wash and the main drama with this was where to dry the various bits and pieces where they would get some sun. I left Rosie slowly roasting on a banana lounge and went back to the hotel and enquired about upgrading to a balcony room. For an extra four bucks we got the penthouse suite complete with North facing balcony and traditional sink and toilet placement. The catch being that firstly the hotel didn’t have a lift so we had to negotiate four flights of stairs to get to and from our room. The second was that I had forgotten that we were in the northern hemisphere and a North facing balcony is not the sun drenched drying paradise that it would have been on the other side of the equator. Nevertheless the clothes seemed to dry quick enough in the shade.

Crayfish fantasies all day - Time to live it up and splash some Dong around. On the beach vendors cook them up in pots in front of you for 8 bucks. We had seen tourists sitting on the kerb eating them straight out of the shell, drooling crustacean innards onto the sidewalk. We chose the restaurant option and selected one of the medium lobsters from the metal trough out the front. We ended up paying nearly $27 for a lobster with chips and salad but lets face it you wouldn’t get yabbies for that price back home.

Five o’clock in the morning and the air conditioner dies. By 6.30 we were laying in sweat playing out the opening scene from Apocalypse Now – Except that Martin Sheen had ceiling fans.

It turned out the power was off for the entire city. No electric lights, no refrigeration and no credit card machines.  A major inconvenience considering that we needed to purchase both tickets for the train to De Nang and a flight the next week from Hue to Hanoi. The final purchase a pragmatic decision to save a few days traveling and cut out a potentially boring stretch. Not being able to put the tickets on plastic meant we had to use up our remaining stash of US dollars plus most of our Dong. We hoped the ATM’s had their own power supply or we would be going hungry.

Another morning spent anchoring a recliner on the beach till the wind rolled in after noon and picked up the sand. Rosie dropped by her tailor to pick up a dress she had made, the first of many. After a noodle lunch at the Kangaroo Café we tracked down an ATM that was working and became Dong millionaires once more. At 5pm sunset came in the city without power – The torch was the last thing that we packed and now it was our only light source in and out of our room. From our balcony we could see the businesses with their own generators and those without. On the way to the one restaurant in our street not relying on candles for lighting we stopped to settle our bill and arrange an early morning cab to the station. We completed the transaction to the cheers of the power coming back on.

Part 1 - Saigon

Part 2 - Cu Chi
Part 3 - The Reunification Express
Part 4 - Nha Trang
Part 5 - Hoi An
Part 6 - My Son
Part 7 - Hue
Part 8 - The Dee Em Zee
Part 9 - Hanoi
Part 10 - Ha Long Bay