cycling to can tho from saigon, 2007
This photo is from 2007, taken at a roundabout at the end of Dien Bien Phu St, HCMC
Cycling to Can Tho from Saigon
Having grown up while the Vietnam War (known as the American War locally for obvious reasons) was raging and making the news headlines daily, I read everything about it that I could lay my hands on – both novels and retrospective accounts. As is usually the case, the most insightful reports tended to be reflections from participants where a little space had allowed for deeper understanding of the conflict, so most of my reading was in the 1980s rather than 70s.
With no-one to correct me, I just read Vietnamese place names as they were written in English. Sometimes you read a word wrongly even in English, for years and years, never having heard it spoken. With Vietnamese it is likely that you read everything wrongly from the very start. Reading about the fighting down in the delta region, I read Can Tho and My Tho as 'Can-Thow' and 'Myth-oh', only to find out when living in Vietnam that it is more like 'Con-Ter' and 'Mee-Tar'. Miles out!
The idea of cycling from Saigon, where I was living, down to Can Tho came from no more than looking at the map and seeing which places looked like they were a reasonable distance for a trip, leaving on a Saturday morning and returning on the Sunday afternoon. I didn’t know much about Can Tho (still don’t) beyond that it is a large city in the Mekong Delta on the south bank of the Hau River. Thus, did I set out down the main highway early one Saturday morning.
When you cycle in Saigon, initially you are relieved to find that main arteries have a small lane next to the main road so that you are separated from the cars and lorries. I say ‘initially’ because fairly soon you realise that there is so much small traffic going the wrong way in your lane that you really need to keep your wits about you. It isn’t just bicycles and motorbikes coming straight at you, but all kinds of three-wheel craft with great big planks of wood or steel tubes extending out of the front, with a little dangling red flag positioned on the longest pole to hopefully prevent you from decapitating yourself (H&S, eh!). After a while you join the main road and take your chances with the big vehicles, at least they are going in the same direction as you.
Once clear of the city limits things settle down as you are riding alongside fields and see rice paddies for the first time after living in Saigon for years. Apart from huge lorries thundering by, this seems to be carefree, if rather hot, work. Stopping for a lunch break is the usual case of ordering blind from a written menu (no helpful pictures) and then looking enviously at other tables’ plates, then glancing back at your paltry single chicken leg and chunk of dry rice. The warm Seven Up poured over a block of ice in a beer mug adds very little cheer. And so, to Can Tho city across a big and very smart bridge, connecting Vinh Long to Can Tho provinces, having covered the 150 kms or so in about six hours.
It was then that I hit what was to be an insurmountable problem. When I went to find a hotel, having chosen a street with a number of modest places side by side, I discovered a rule that seemed to irrevocably bind one and all. A hotel would not take you in unless you had your passport with you. Needless to say, when packing my light bag, it never occurred to me that I would need to carry my actual passport with me. Perhaps it was just one hotel receptionist being a bit pernickety, I’ll try next door. It was patiently explained to me at more than one place that if they registered me without submitting it to the police they would be in big trouble. And the police always check. Oh dear, what to do – think, think.
I certainly didn’t fancy cycling back the way I had just come, feeling weary and grubby. The only thing that I could think of was going down to the main bus station to see if there was a bus to HCMC and would they take my bike as well as me. There was, and they would, by slinging it aloft with chickens in baskets and all kinds of other market stuff. So, arriving at the central bus station in Cholon late in the evening it was just a case of cycling home in the dark (no lights on the bike), in Saturday night traffic. My short adventure was an even shorter one, but you learn as you go along. Are they still that inflexible about passports, after all this was about 2007? Probably. It is the same even now in Thailand, although they will accept a Thai driving licence if you say that your passport is in at Immigration.
What can I tell you about Can Tho? Next to nothing. Apart from Mekong Delta boat trips that are currently popular down there, there may not be a lot more to tell.
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