A Hustler and a Hot Pot in
Ho Chi Minh
After 2 amazing years in New Zealand full of ‘ups and downs’:
Skydiving and bungee jumping, skiing and snowboarding, buying a blowup bed and gently sailing down the stream…
it was time to say goodbye to Kiwi Land and dive into a new adventure…
Asia!
Before I had to leave I had an outline of a plan in mind which was to meet my 2 Italian friends in the Philippines over Christmas and New Year, and from there hop over to Vietnam.
Vietnam came to me after a few recommendations from friends. They said the food was tasty, very cheap place to live, fun to travel and also many opportunities to teach English as a foreign language.
Now because I hadn’t managed to save much money in NZ (this task I found quite impossible) and as I knew I was travelling the Philippines for one month, I was sure to need a job fairly soon, and Vietnam being right next door to the Philippines, it was definitely worth a look.
So skip forwards post Philippines adventures (AMAZING Things Happen When We RELAX – This is the Proof!, Beauty in Baguio!! How to Mingle with the Mayor 😉) to when I’m touching down in Ho Cho Minh City, Vietnam and I’m stuck at airport security because I have no idea what the process is regarding the entry visa.
It’s 1am on Saturday morning and I’m lining up behind a crowd of people waiting to get their visa’s approved and stamped. I had no Vietnamese money but around 100 Philippino pesos which translates to just less than 2 USD and for the visa I needed 25 USD.
I also noticed that there were no cash machines in the area to withdraw some money. These things tend to work themselves out though, so even though I didn’t have a clue what I had to do to enter Vietnam, I just went along with what I could see people were doing around me.
There was a small line for people to use the computer behind the glass where the visa control officers were and I plump for that one. Closely watching the people in front of me and in the line beside me, I start to understand the process.
When I reach the computer and try logging into my google mail account to print off my visa entry letter, my password is incorrect, as it often is. I therefore bring up the visa letter on my phone and I point it in the direction of the control officer until I get her attention.
“Pho-to” she says after she’s had a glance at my phone. I shake my head lightly and push forward again with my phone and other entry form I just filled in to signal this is all I have. She seems to make an exception and with a small sigh takes my form and passport and points me over to the seating area where people are waiting for their names to be called out.
When my ear catches something vaguely resembling Giles Short, I go to the counter for what I hope to be the last control officer. He has Vietnamese Dong in his hand and he motions for me to give him the money for the visa. I show him my empty wallet of a lowly 100 pesos, then pull out my card and motion around me:
“ Cash machine?” I ask.
After a short moment of his resignation, taking a big inhale and exhale, he gestures over to a side gate and shouts in Vietnamese at an officer standing next to it, who apparently is now letting me through to a cash machine on the other side.
Thankfully, I manage to withdraw enough Dong for my entry and I return to the control officer, skip the line and pay him the cash. Done!
This is one of the things about the Vietnamese culture I grew to like. They can think for themselves in the moment a simple reality of the situation and then do something about it straight away, without a hindrance of strict rules.
Now through to baggage collection I’m searching all the carousels for my flights luggage and can’t find it… This doesn’t surprise me as it has been a couple of hours since I landed and the carousel had likely finished and been replaced by another flights arrival. I head over to the baggage customer service desk.
“No bag?” the woman behind the counter asks.
I nod my head and they give me a form to fill out. As I begin to fill it out it occurs to me I can just ask them about my flight and so I tell them my flight number. They quickly understand and walk round the counter taking me to one of the guys working, shifting bags onto a trolley. He pulls out my bag and with a sigh of relief, I thank them, strap on my beloved backpack and walk out into the early morning air of Vietnam.
At this point I remember that I had told my hostel for this night I would arrive many hours earlier than the time now was. Hopefully they would still let me in. I don’t let this concern me, hopeful things will work themselves out and I proceed to order a Grab.
I had the Grab app from using it in the Philippines (a type of taxi service). The Vietnamese driver pulled up, helped me put my bags in the car and after a brief indication that he didn’t speak English, we spent the ride to my hostel in silence.
Following my progress of the ride on my phone, I saw I was coming closer to the hostel. It’s now around 4am local time but the area we were driving into was very much still awake, with the pumping sounds of club music and a lot of people walking up and down the streets.
He drops me at the side of the road and points at a street for me to walk down. Avoiding the noisy people, I headed down the street and around the corner and came to a sign: Bui Vien Hostel.
I open the door and there’s a guy lying down, sleeping on a row of chairs. As I enter he wakes up and it turns out he is working there and is able to check me in. I ask the guy where I can find some good food at this time because I’m very hungry and he marks on a map his recommendation and gives it to me. I put my bags in the dorm then return to the street outside on the hunt for my first taste of Vietnamese food.
Feeling better now I’d found my bed for the night and lighter now I’d debagged, I sift my way through the street party; past the Vietnamese people outside the restaurants and stalls tirelessly working to get the attention of passersby, past the massage girls grabbing my arm strongly offering me their services, and past the intoxicated foreign party goers blindly arm-in-arm stumbling from one bar to the next.
Hectic Ho Chi Minh Night Life on Bui Vien Walking Street
I find the place that I’m looking for, sit down on an outside table, and order Pho and a bun (a small baguette like bread). He brings me a huge side dish of different leaves which I didn’t know what they were but I proceed to try a few.
Before my food arrives however, I am confronted with a lady who appears next to me. She’s holding out her hands begging for money. I decided I can offer her some food instead of money by gesturing my hands to my mouth and asking her “food?”. She nods her head and I ask the waiter for another bun and give it to her. She takes the bun, hesitates for a moment, then turns and walks away.
After my warm comforting noodle soup:
…which is just what I needed, I returned to my hostel dorm where I stuck my phone on charge and very quickly fell asleep…
At 7:30 the next morning I’m woken up to the sound of three English girls having an open conversation, as if I wasn’t there sleeping. They’re thumping around packing their stuff, moving up and down the ladder’s to the bunk beds, and the whole time speaking to each other with total disregard for the level of noise they were making.
After a while of not being able to go back to sleep I decide to search for my earbuds, but even once I’d put them on I could still hear them. By this time, I’d woken up enough where there wasn’t any chance of getting back to sleep, so I sat up and slid the curtain divider back so that I can climb down the ladder…
Suddenly I’m face to face with one of the bloody loud English girls and she jerks her head back, eyes wide with shock and surprise.
“Oh!!.. I didn’t know you were in there!” she exclaimed.
“Well… this is a 12 bed dorm…” I managed to say through a tired croaky voice.
“You could expect to see other people using it…” this part I said in my own head though, the words not quite making it out.”
Her small reaction after my reply was a sheepish one, which I was glad to see, as it seemed to dawn on her a little, how ignorant she had been… for the past hour and a half…
I know that I’m too late for the morning hostel breakfast, so I take my time having a shit, shave and a shower, before slipping some lightweight clothes on in anticipation for the humidity I was sure I would meet once I’d walked out of the air conditioned dorm room.
Boom!!…
TRAFFIC.
Probably the first word to be said about Ho Chi Minh City. I’d never experienced anything like it.
Rather than describe it, it’s easier for you to see it for yourself:
Great hoards of mopeds driving all over the place… Even taking over the pavements!
I’m making my way through the busy city streets, trying to not get run over. It’s the start of my first full day in Vietnam.
I go for some breakfast at a café overlooking this perilous looking roundabout:
Refuelled, I decide to walk over to a nearby park to escape the traffic. As I’m walking through I see a Vietnamese man dressed quite smartly sat on a bench. He’s maybe in his mid forties with gelled hair combed neatly backwards, wearing black sunglasses, a black or dark grey suit jacket and trousers with a white shirt underneath and black leather shoes.
He notices me and says:
“Hellooo! You from England?” , and he offers me a seat next to him. As I’m quite open to talk to people and I wasn’t really going anywhere I sit down on the bench and start a conversation in broken English.
It turns out his sister is living in England, and he is an unemployed teacher here looking for work. I can’t remember the other details/ I didn’t understand the other details but after I say I’m looking around the city today he offers to take me around on his bike because he’s not doing anything.
I’m wary about his offer but I don’t feel in danger and I decide to go with it, with an intention to stay alert for any suspicious behaviour. So I jump on the back of his bike and we’re away through the streets!!
Edgy bike ride down the opposite side of the road!!
A thought “this kind of thing happens a lot with me” comes to mind while I’m now rather enjoying the rush of speed from the bike and the thrill of feeling life as such an open adventure.
He’s pointing out buildings to me saying what they are and I’m asking him some questions about teaching and where he lives, mainly to see if he is ‘legit’. He then started shouting at random members of the public “Hap-py New Year!!” and at the women “Hey, so bewt-i-ful!…
This is a small alarm bell for me, but I continue to go with it and I laugh it off. He pulls over to the side of the road randomly and comes to a stop. Without saying anything, he gets off the bike and picks up a silver smoking pipe, something I hadn’t seen before; it looked more like a bong to me. He takes out his tobacco from his jacket pocket, puts it in the end, lights it up and hits it a couple of times with some big inhales.
I’m sat there watching thinking “Oh boy what have I got myself into?”
When he had his fill, he leaves it where he found it and we carry on with our tour of the city driving down by the river to see some boat restaurants, then to a Buddhist temple where we stop and I say that I’d like to go inside, so we do.
A short while after walking around the temple we return to the bike and go for our last stop on his tour, food.
I ask “What would you like to eat” and his reply is “Hotpot Hotpot” so we pull up at some roadside restaurant and take a seat on the little Vietnamese chairs. He orders the Hotpot and also, without asking me, a bucket of 4 beers. So we toast “Hap-py New Year” a few times and he shows me how to cook the Hotpot.
He asks for my cap next, and puts it on his head and we take a selfie:
I feel I know myself well so I can enjoy the experience for what it is, even if this guy has a hidden agenda, I still haven’t had a feeling of threat or danger so I feel confident I can deal with the situation.
He then says “Bewt-i-ful watch! I try?”
This is a more major alarm bell but I do actually take off my watch, as I think he’s not going to just run away with it, I can catch him. He takes it and puts it on his wrist. Then he says “You give me as sou-ven-ir?”…
This is the turning point for me and I refuse him saying “No, no I can’t do that” and motion for it back. He doesn’t give me back the watch straight away and I more firmly say “No, no, no I can’t give you this watch”. Reluctantly he hands me back the watch and I say “Look, thank you for the tour, I can pay for this meal as a thank you.”
I now had to think of the best way of making a quick exit from this dude. I say to him that I need to meet my friends back at the hostel and show him on the map where it is. He says he can take me there so I say fine. The bill comes and it’s 1.2million Vietnamese Dong… Now my focus is mostly on getting away from this guy and though I think it’s expensive I don’t have a good idea of the price of the food yet so I pay for it and we get on the bike heading for my hostel.
Just about a minutes drive down the road, he slows to a stop. A bus stop. I ask what he’s doing and he says “Bus, bus”. So I get off the bike, not so much minding how he’s decided not to bring me to the hostel because the main feeling for me is to part ways as soon as possible. Then just before he goes he says something like “ Pe-rol mon-ey ” holding out his hand. “I poor, I live for-ty min-ute, Pe-rol mon-ey two hun-dred thou-san”
Now I know he’s taking the piss here and I say no, no, no but in the end, when he doesn’t leave and persists with me, I pay him half what he wants and so finally, he leaves.
After I’d managed to navigate myself via bus and via walk back to the hostel later that day, I reflected on my inpromptu ‘free’ tour of the city with my cheeky Vietnamese tour guide who was looking to take my watch off my hands.
I thought of the price of the hotpot too and only then did I look up on my xe currency converter app what the exchange rate was…and it gave me the answer: 1.2million Dong was equivalent to £40!!!
“Shit…”, I cursed to myself “He actually hustled me…”
Though £40 wouldn’t be much over the price you’d pay for a few beers and a huge hotpot in England, in Vietnam it was probably at least 4x the normal price you’d pay. I thought about it and it seemed like the restaurant owner must have been in on it with my slick, out of work teacher tour guide.
The next day waking up, I was still finding it difficult to believe what had happened and though I knew it was a funny story and I’d had a fun unexpected tour of the city, the fact that my tour guide had obviously been in league with the guy at the hotpot place so they could charge me much more for the food and drink, I did feel slightly ashamed that I didn’t realise they were charging me an extortionate price.
I had been hustled… I didn’t think I could be tricked, yet I had been. I was therefore more alert for the whole rest of my time in Vietnam for any further trickery.
The next morning, I’m talking to my new friend Nathan about my crazy first day in Vietnam the previous day and he laughs and tells me “ Yes a hotpot is generally around 2-300,000… but you had quite an experience”
“This is true…haha, a pretty unforgettable experience”
