The city without limits

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  Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
Friday, February 10, 2006

After four peaceful days in Kampot, I braced myself for a long day of travel as I got up on Friday morning (February 10) and waited for Dan and Amy to come pick me up in our "taxi" to the border. It was hard to get information about the Kampot to Chau Doc, Vietnam route as most foreigners go straight from Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh City and the Cambodians generally avoid Vietnam at all costs. So we set off at 9am not knowing what to expect, although we had been told that the trip takes between 3 to 5 hours and that we were going to have to take a detour as the bridge near Kep had been washed out. The rickety car (make unknown, but it looked eastern European) that pulled up to my guesthouse did not inspire confidence, but the driver was older and seemed to know what he was doing.
We headed south-east out of town on a road that was paved and in generally good condition, although the motorbike traffic brought on a lot of weaving about and horn-honking

01- Crossing the Cambodia-Vietnam

. About 45 minutes out of Kampot, we turned off onto a dirt road that became increasingly smaller and bumpier. Children, cows, water buffalo, overloaded two-wheeled carts pulled by tiny ponies, and people on foot made the going slow. Four and two-footed transportation greatly outnumbered vehicles. Judging by the gaping stares we were getting from the locals, I don't think too many cars ever passed this way, especially with three westerners inside. I thought I'd seen wild Cambodia, but this part of the country was the least populated and most lush I've seen. As the road got narrower and bumpier, and the trees seemed to be closing in around us, we started to wonder if the driver knew where he was going. But after several more turns onto dirt roads, more staring locals, and the feeling we were going around in a big circle, we got back onto the main, or semi-paved, road and continued on our way to the border. Two and a half hours after leaving Kampot, our driver said "Vietnam here." All we could see was an empty road leading through a rice paddy and a couple of guard houses. We got out, took our bags and set off down the gravel road. Sure enough, after about 100 feet, we saw the Cambodian border guards, sitting idly in a hut. Apart from six other westerners and a few Vietnamese on motorbikes, there was no traffic. A few minutes of formalities, and the Cambodian guard asking "You happy?" several times, we were out of Cambodia and on our way to Vietnam, walking another 100 feet or so through a no-man's-land in the middle of a rice paddy to the Vietnamese border checkpoint

02 - Looking across the border to Vietnam

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The difference between the two countries was immediate: there was a certain energy at the Vietnamese checkpoint, which was a small building with bathrooms and AC rather than a corrugated metal hut, with many more guards and several immigration steps to go through. The immigration officers looked to be 18 and wearing Soviet surplus uniforms that were 5 sizes too big for them. After filling out an entry form, handing over our passports for visa inspection, getting our bags x-rayed, and receiving a slip from the medical officer on duty which I guess says we don't have any contagious diseases although he didn't ask us any questions, we were in Vietnam, but not in Chau Doc, the closest town. And this is where The Book (Lonely Planet's Southeast Asia on a Shoestring) let us down: it didn't say exactly how far the border crossing was from Chau Doc, but implied that it was a short hop and a skip away, possibly walk-able. Sure enough, however, some motorbike drivers were on hand to help us out. After a long negotiation, we got them to agree to take us to Chau Doc for $3 each, down from $7 each. One of them said Chau Doc was 40km away, but that seemed an exaggeration, based on Lonely Planet's casual description. It may not have been 40km, but it was close to it.
We set off at breakneck speed. Whereas motorbike drivers in Cambodia are efficient but relaxed and seem to keep to a speed limit, these drivers were in training for the next motocross championship, especially mine, who zoomed ahead of Amy and Dan's bikes, in seconds

03 - Ferry crossing on the Mekong

. After 30 minutes of hanging on for dear life, we were in Chau Doc, dropped unceremoniously at the office of a private minibus company near the center of town. Hungry and dusty, we sat down at the street restaurant next door to get something to eat and drink. If you judge a country by the first food you eat there, then I'm off to a fantastic start in Vietnam. We had excellent pho, rice noodle soup with basil, chili, and green beans. I took this to be an auspicious sign.
Amy and Dan decided to stay in Chau Doc a few days but I wanted to press on to Ho Chi Minh City. I bought a ticket from the minibus company next door because it was easier than hunting for the bus station and hoped it would get me to HCMC by early evening. The ticket woman said 4 hours, but I'd read that it was usually a six-hour journey. Along with two hefty middle-aged Romans, I climbed into the not-so-mini van which was otherwise all Vietnamese.
And so the race began, or at least our driver thought so. The biggest difference between the roads in Cambodia and Vietnam is that there's virtually no truck traffic in Cambodia but Vietnam seems to be only trucks. Unfortunately, the roads are about the same size. Our driver was determined to make the clock, however, and had absolutely no problem with intimidating other vehicles to move out of our way, even if they were three times the size. His technique involved stomping on the gas, pulling up as close as possible behind the offending vehicle, honking continuously until he got a response, and then zooming out into oncoming traffic to pass

04 - On the ferry

. I was distracted fortunately by the three women in front of me who talked and ate constantly throughout the journey. They started off with tamarinds, then moved on to something that looked like marzipan but smelled like garlic and was wrapped in banana leaf, then more fruit, followed by what appeared to be sausage wrapped in a tube of banana leaf and cut into slices, candy, more fruit and sausages, and bread. We made four stops along the way, to allow the driver to collect his nerves and the passengers to eat. Each time we stopped the women got out and bought more food.
After four hours had passed, I was beginning to wonder if we were anywhere near Ho Chi Minh City as it seemed that we had never left Chau Doc. The road was bumper to bumper traffic, lined with villages the entire way. In Cambodia it is very clear when you leave a town: there are a lot of trees, a few wooden houses, and few people. Not the case with Vietnam. As it started to get dark, HCMC was seemed to be more and more distant. Just as soon as we got to what looked like the outskirts of a big city, we were out of it and navigating more heavy traffic, now in the dark. Around 9pm, we drove down a street that actually looked like it could be our destination. Not wanting to get my hopes up, after so many fake Ho Chi Minh's, I decided not to look out the window until we stopped. Six hours after leaving Chau Doc and lots of food later, we were in HCMC. I got a motorbike to Madame Cuc's guesthouse where I got a room in the annex above the shoe store across the street as the main guesthouse is full. I think (and hope) they are part of Madame Cuc's extended family as we had to knock on the metal gate covering the store front, walk through the shoe store itself, as well as the owner's kitchen in the back, then up four flights of steps to my room. Exactly 12 hours, and one car, one minivan, and two motorbikes later, I lay down on my bed in Ho Chi Minh City.

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