8/7 Saigon and Sa Dec
We arrive at around 6.00, the Saigon station is wonderful compared to the Hanoi one, especially the bathrooms. There is a long line for cabs, so I start walking out of the square, until I find one that takes me (136 thousands dong) to Mien Tay terminal, from where all the buses to the Mekong Delta leave. Here every counter clearly indicates prices and destinations, so there are no chances to mistake. Several companies serve the town of Sa Dec, but the Phuong Trang office, 100 thousand dong, is a mess, so I head to an empty smaller company office, and buy a ticket with 60 thousand dong. The terminal is huge, and it would impossible for me to spot my bus, but some nice people, noticing that I am lost, gently accompany me. Unfortunately my bus is small, battered, packed, with no place for luggage, so I’ll travel 4 hours with the big backpack under my feet, and my knees almost touching my chin, without being able to move, pressed next to other passengers, some of whom can speak English and entertain me.
Going southward, the alternation of land strips and water channels makes me realize that the mythical Mekong Delta is under my feet.
Some time ago people only moved with the ferries. Although they still exist, now gigantic bridges have been built with the cooperation of foreign countries. Sa Dec is not a tourist spot, Lonely Planet only dedicates it a few lines. Why did I decide to come here? Because I am curious to visit the place where Marguerite Duras lived, where her mother taught, I want to see the home of the wealthy merchant with whom she had an affair when she was very young, as depicted by the famous Jean Jacques Annaud film, which here has never been broadcast or distributed, for censorship
On arrival, the terminal is a dirt yard, not a soul around. One of the passengers helps me find a mototaxi, and acts as my interpreter. Here there is no an area, maybe in the city centre, where a foreigner can go on his own and find facilities he needs, as I understand, so I ask him to take me to a random hotel, the only one I remember the name, Bong Hong, on the road main. I won’t see here any other Western people, in 24 hours. The receptionist pretends not to understand my attempts of negotiation, and then I pay 18 USD for a double room. The hotel welcomes mostly Chinese customers, and it’s big, but a little shabby. I leave luggage in the room and walk downtown: I skirt the river, along the market, and I reach the Huynh Thuy Le House, whose interiors stand the comparison with Hoi An merchant houses, and in the exteriors widely outclass them
Admission fee costs 20 thousand dong, after a visit to some pagodas, I get hungry. The only restaurant, Com Quan Thuy, listed on the Lonely Planet does not attract me at all. Where to eat? I wonder worried. Intuition brings me to the market, at the edges of which there are stalls selling food, some Vietnamese are consuming a soup, so I gesticulate, because obviously nobody knows English, that I want the same thing (15 thousand dong) .
In a bakery I buy some sweets (40 thousand dong), and in a little bar a delicious papaya smoothie (15 thousand dong). Then I decide to explore the riverside again, a couple of kilometers away there are flower nurseries, the intention is to snap some pictures hoping to see the loading of the flowers on the boats, but unfortunately as a transport they now use minivans, and everything is unromantic. People look at me curiously, as if I were a rarity. It might seem that I lost some time, but I am very happy to be here
Having nothing to do in the evening, I decide to eat at Bong Hong restaurant. A big rat, which, coming from the reception, slips into the dining room, crosses it, and sling in the kitchen, enlives the dinner. I warn the waiter, and he, rather than rush to kick it away, apologizes, and then go back to sit exactly where he was before.
8/8
Hunger is stronger than anything, and I remember about the rat only when my belly is full. The buffet breakfast is Vietnamese style, but a friendly waiter guides me, pointing to the desserts, and explaining what they contain. They do not have jam, but remembering they call it “mu”, and making specific request, I get an almost full jar.
A taxi takes me back to the bus terminal (12 thousand dong). I say to men idling outside that I have to go to Can Tho, and they show me a bus which is leaving immediately.