angusmccoll

Late breakfast of coffee and banquettes. I tried a new coffee shop. They’re everywhere. It’s extraordinary. But strangely the don’t sell food. You have to get that elsewhere. Working the coffee shops are sellers of all things, from shoe shining to snacks to lottery tickets. The lottery-ticket sellers don’t bother with foreigners because you have to be a local to win. The shoe shiners are always young and old men and the lottery ticket sellers are usually old women. Some of them very old. For every ticket they sell they get 20% I’m told. I think about these women. Some of them could be in their 70s. What a life they’ve had and now they’re walking the streets hawking these tickets for meager gains. These women have lived through hellish times. Maybe they had families who were wiped out by the war. Who knows what they’ve lived through, what side they were on. Did they survive the war on the losing side then spent years tortured in ‘re-education camps’? Possibly. Or were they on the winning side but still lost so much. Possibly. Either way they would have experienced things my privileged life would never allow me to understand, thankfully. And we, as Australians, would have contributed in some way. It’s unlikely they know this. To them it was the American war and America was the enemy. Anyway at this time in their lives this is where they’re at, flogging off raffle tickets to a largely disinterested young generation. It’s a thoughtful morning.

In the heat of the day I work on my computer in my air conditioned hotel room.

Just a day of walking around my part of Ho Chi Minh City. I’m not sure what district I’m in but it’s not the main tourist area – District 1.

Breakfast is a baguette on the street and a coffee in a cafe. The coffee culture easily rivals our love of coffee in Australia. There are coffee shops everywhere. But they don’t serve food! I don’t know why. And the food places don’t serve coffee!

First thing is to visit an old Buddhist temple Chua Ngoc Hoang. It’s a place of worship for the locals. I notice a young girl there obviously not a local. Walking to my next destination, Saigon zoo, I come across her again waiting to cross a busy street. We take the challenge together. She’s going to the museum, advice she got from her lonely planet guide. Jasmin’s from Germany. She’s studying economics at uni there but is travelling with two friends through Vietnam on a break. She’s been to Indonesia before so is a bit familiar with Asia. Her friends are doing something else today.

The museum sounds like a better idea so we do the museum together and coffee afterwards. Then we go our separate ways. I go to lunch with a friend who helps me get a local SIM card. I now have a Vietnamese number. The walk home is about 2km.

I rest then head out again in the afternoon with my trusty camera. There is a river canal not far and a great opportunity for some photos. Beers and dinner is at a street-side restaurant. The menu is all in Vietnamese! I try to use my translater app but it struggles. An item I type in comes up “the ball is dead”! Anyway it was bloody tasty.

It’s possible to have your table right on the street edge, which strangely I like. It’s busy and noisey. But it’s not legal. If word gets out that the police are on the prowl, the restaurant proprietor organised for all tables on the footpath to be moved inside…temporarily! Hilarious.

Flew to Ho Chi Minh City today. Got to the airport in Bangkok in plenty of time. I’m wearing my trekking boots because they’re too big and heavy to put in the back pack. Walking around the terminal something feels weird and I discover the rubber soul to one of my boots is separating. Bugger. There are mini marts here but what are the chances of them having a decent glue. I find something but surely not enough to stick the sole back into a hiking boot? I pop the top off, pierce the metal seal with an included pin and squirt. It went everywhere, some in the intended place but most on fingers and my jeans. What the… I can’t separate my fingers! I have to pry them apart…painfully. Standing up, the glue spot on my jeans rips the hairs off my leg…painfully! And the sole is rock-solid stuck to my boot.

I fly Viet-Jet and arrive in HCMC around 1:30pm after 1.5 hours flying. I get to the Linh Dan Hotel eventually. It’s not on the taxis radar! Then a walk around. I get excited by HCMC for some reason. There is a real buzz about the place, something I don’t get in other asian cities like Bangkok or Jakarta. It’s chaos here in the streets but it works. I rarely if ever see an accident. Entertainment for me is just watching the traffic over a beer or two. You can here. The bars and restaurants are right on the streets edge.

Early start today, uncomfortably early. My 30-day free visa to Indonesia is due to expire so I’ve two flights today to get me to Bangkok. Why Bangkok? I’ve got a friend from Cairns teaching English there and I promised I’d catch up. My first flight departs for Jakarta from Bali at 6:30am. From Jakarta it’s international flying to Bangkok. Both flights are with Garuda, Indonesia’s official national carrier. Garuda used to have a dodgy record for both safety and efficiency but it now has a good reputation. Both my flights today ran to schedule and the service was faultless. I arrived in Bangkok around 2pm and made my way to my hotel via the train.

I’m only going down the road to Moni so there is no rush. At breakfast Ricky tells me an hilarious story about how Indonesians think Australia got its name. Apparently on his way to Australia, Cook picked up some sailors from Ambon in Indonesia. With his telescope Cook could see land in the distance and asked these sailors “what is that land?” They replied “cesstralia” which translates into “How do we know we can’t see anything. You’re the one with the telescope”. Cook thinks they say “Australia”. There are a few flaws with this explanation but I like it.

My destination for today is Moni up in the mountains from here about 50kms away. Ricky helps me catch a bus. There are minibuses plying these roads to no particular schedule, you just stand on the side of the road and wait. One comes, Ricky hails it down and negotiates a good price, 30,000 rupee ($3). They find me a small space beside a chicken and away we go. Flores is amazingly mountainous so the roads are sharply winding. They remind me of the roads in nepal but in much better condition. Ricky tells me it’s because of the Japanese during WW2. He explains the Japanese are responsible for much of the good infrastructure here, such are the spoils of war.

No matter how full the bus is, anyone who hails it down will get picked up and stuffed in…literally. Young guys are asked to give up their seats for women and older men. They’ll find space on the roof. After about an hour we reach Moni and I find my way to Palm Bungalows. I’ve been told about this place from other travelers. It’s a short way out of Moni but is independent offering all meals. Breakfast comes with the room. Mines a very basic bungalow but only costs $6 a night. Travelers come to Moni to visit the famous volcanic crater lakes of Kelimutu.

I lunch, then after a short break walk into town for a look. I bump into a guy I met on the bus who offers me coffee and an opportunity to have him as a guide to the lakes and a village. He seems expensive but I decide to go with him anyway.

A quiet day today. Breakfast is a chicken porridge from the street. Nice. No real plan today, other than to go to the movies to catch the latest offering from Marvel Comics. My friend is worried that the cinema will be packed out because the film has only recently arrived here and demand will be high. But he has a plan. We choose a session when the churches of Manado have their many followers locked up in prayer and psalms. My friend is Muslim and he says he does this often. It’s a quiet time when the churches are busy. The movie was entertaining. These films are pure escapism but that doesn’t mean you can disengage your brain completely. It’s a challenge to keep up with the goings-on. Captain Marvel is the name. Strange name for a female superhero. Anyway I’m sure we will be seeing more of her in the future.

I farewell my friend and thank him for a fabulous weekend. I’m not feeling the best. I have a cough and feel a bit weak. I hope this doesn’t get worse. I sleep for the rest of the day in preparation for my flight tomorrow.

My plan for after Manado was either Ambon or Sumatra but domestic flights to either place, just for a quick visit, are expensive. I decide to go back to Bali.

I’ve just spent a miserable night of constant headaches, coughing, fever and congestion. I ran out of water so couldn’t keep taking drugs. My viral infection has escalated. I swear I was awake for every second of last night. The whole day is spent in bed except for dragging myself down to the local warung to eat something. I’ve completely lost appetite but I know I have to eat so I make the effort. Chicken soup, it’s the miracle cure right? I hope so. Feeling very miserable and sooky…

Well…I have plenty of time to blog now. I’ve been knocked for six by some viral infection and again I spend the day in bed. Except today I dragged myself down to the local medical centre to see a doctor. The doctor was busy so they took me to another of their centres. Tests were done but nothing shows up…then why do I feel so absolutely crap. Blood is sampled for red/white cells and for dengue and after two hours they sent through negative results via WhatsApp. Very efficient service. They gave me some antihistamines and paracetamol and sent me on my way. I walk back to the hotel. I grabbed some chicken soup from a local warung. Then back to bed. Not happy…