You want dong?

24 hours in Vietnam now. Friendliest people in the world live in the Mekong Delta. Apparently a bit different in the cities. Within two minutes of getting my passport stamped various ladies were enquiring as to the state of my dong. Luckily the chap on the boat had sorted my dong out for me …

I have walked around Can Tho twice, found a bank, had a coffee and chatted to an old lady in French for 20 minutes whilst standing in the middle of the road.

I am a dong millionaire, which explains the armed guard by the ATM. I could have used one in Phnom Penh on my last day when I was chased, quite comically, down the street by a dog. First I heard the yells from the house. Probably “Rover, no! You ate three days ago!” Then the patter of doggy hooves. Then the snarl, then the chase. I stopped dead. We had a standoff. I responded to his growls with equally aggressive sphincter shudders. Then I walked slowly backwards, which was the cue for the dog to follow. I looked around expecting to see amused faces on the locals who had gathered to watch. Instead they all looked slightly concerned. So I ran into the middle of the road. The dog had more sense than to follow me. It took me five minutes to get back to the pavement.

Safely in Vietnam, earlier today, I ordered a coffee perched on a foot-high plastic stool (me, not the coffee.)

Me: “Caa-fay”
Her: “[something in Vietnamese]”
Me: “Yes”
Her: “[something in Vietnamese]”
Me: “Yes”
Her: “[something in Vietnamese]”
Me: “Yes” … ad infinitum …

When the coffee arrives, it is sugared, black and poured over ice. Accompanying the coffee is a large pot of green tea, to be poured over the ice once you’ve finished your coffee. Tea follows coffee over here.

Which is, and was, wonderful.