Hump Day

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), Vietnam
















"You want book?"

I look up from writing in my journal to see a massive tower of books. Holding this massive tower of books is a little lady no more than five foot high.

I sigh. As astounding as the sight is, it's the fifth interruption from a tout in as many minutes and it's just serving to distract me from finishing this morning's entry.

"No, no books," I say, waving my hand at her in the universal 'No, go away' gesture. Sadly, she doesn't get it until I pull down my mirrored shades and stick my head back into my journal. I finally hear her shuffling off to try her luck with another farang as I go back to putting pen to paper.

The touts in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon to some) are everywhere, and persistent. Just after you finally manage to get rid of the guy trying to sell you a hammock, the next hawker in line comes along trying to sell you sunglasses, cigarettes, newspapers, trinkets, you name it. I guess all this tout-ish attention comes from us having chosen to set up shop in the middle of the tourist ghetto on Pham Ngu Lao. Our bad.

I put down my pen and pick up my beer. I look at it with a sense of happiness; nothing beats a liquid lunch. It's just come on midday, and Drew and I are celebrating Hump Day. Today at midday was the exact middle point of our trip; 5 1/2 weeks down, another 5 1/2 weeks to go. As always, we celebrated in style: beer.

"Cheers buddy. Here's to another five and a half." Drew raises his glass.
"Amen to that brother. And how fitting that we're celebrating with booze..."
I tops-and-bottoms cheers with him, then down some of that sweet golden celebration. Nothing better.

Over the top of my glass I peer down the street at the cyclos, rickshaws, cars, taxis, and pushbikes as they all tear past at breakneck speed. They vanish swiftly a few kilometers down the road, disappearing into the permanent miasmatic haze that infuses the city. You'd be crazy to be a foreigner and try to transport yourself around in SE Asia; the road rules, if any, are known only to a select few, and then slowly passed on by Chinese whispers to the rest of the population. Theoretically, everyone knows the rules, but then they all twist an interpretation onto it. And yet there are hardly any accidents. There must be a magical power protecting these crazy locals.

I take another big swallow from my beer and frown as I reach bottom. Catching the eye of our server, I motion for another beer.
"G'day mate, sure thing mate," he says with a grin. The little bugger figured out we were Australian, and now we're his new best friends. He makes us laugh, so we'll swing him a tip at the end of the session.

Putting my empty on the table, I look back down at my journal. I've managed to drop some condensation from my glass onto the page, and I try to mop it up without smudging my writing. I'm starting to get a headache from the heat, humidity, and noise. The traffic is non-stop, and the noise of bikes and construction is a 24/7 constant. Last night's sleep wasn't a good one.

Drew took it even worse. I look over at him as he rests his head in his hands; he's picked up a bit of a cold, and the lack of decent sleep plus a blocked nose has really slogged him for six. I make a mental note to myself to pick up some cold and flu drugs at a pharmacy while I'm out and about this afternoon. Hopefully he'll be up for tackling the sights and sounds of Ho Chi Minh tomorrow; if not, we'll snuggle him up in bed until our little liebensschnoobel is all better.

Our server comes back and places my new beer in front of me.
"Cheers mate," I say, raising the glass to take in both the server and Drew. I take a mouthful, swallow, and lean back with a sigh of contentment. We're back in the thick of things in Asia with five and a half weeks to go, living life to the full, and drinking beer. I grin.

Nothing better.