Ho Chi Minh City. Where the air is hot and sticky like freshly cut pineapples. As in the scene from LA Story where Steve Martin goes to the ATM only to hand over his withdrawal to a mugger, we couldn’t resist the chance to get ripped off by a ciclo driver at the earliest opportunity. No sooner had we stepped out of our hotel zone, complete with Kraftwerk muzac and a chirrupping mynor bird, than we were accosted by a ciclo driver (a ciclo is a kind of bike with a seat in the front for the passenger) and whisked off to the Cholon markets. Stupidly, we did not agree upon a fare before we got in. When the ride was over, the guy said it would cost $20 US each – this is quite a lot of money even for us. How dumb can a Yam Yam get!! Despite this silly incident, we are having a good time here. It is always on the verge of raining. Every motorcycle has a one in two chance of hitting another one but somehow everybody escapes unscathed. It is good to have a real coffee. Even when Harry Snotter was on the Pay TV in our room I didn’t mind because – well, the Pang is on holidays, and anything goes. I am seriously thinking of updating The Happy Farang. It needs a new chapter. Ca Mun!!
