Here we go again.

25/4 - On the move again. I got a good seat on the not too crowded mini-bus. Everytime we pull up anywhere food sellers appear out of the ground. Sticky rice and corn on the cob seem the favourite offerings. The drivers on these minibuses are crazy. The rule is beep your horn then go. The horn seems to make it all OK. I can't believe I haven't seen an accident. I have been tempted to hire a motorbike, but watching these buses gives me second thoughts. With the Mekong river being so big, there are very few bridges, so ferries are common and we rolled up at one. The driver issues tickets to selected passengers and they get off the bus, walk onto the ferry and get back on the bus at the other side. What's that all about Grandad? Beats me Paige. Just as we are about to board the ferry, a lady selling corn on the cob jumped onto the bus and crouched down, so she could not be seen from outside. Once we were onboard, she nipped out. A free ride I guess, she did well too, most of her bag full was gone by the time we rolled off and she had the return leg to go. "A blind eye springs to mind here and it was good to see. The road after the ferry, wasn't. It was just a succession of potholes of varying sizes. We stopped along the way to pick up a young lass, but before she could sit down the driver jammed her fingers in the sliding door. OUCH!!!!! It took ages to get the door open too. A bottle of the cure for everything appeared out of thin air. Tiger Balm. Everyone seems to carry one. It is used for travel sickness, to hide the smell of durian and apparently to fix trappedinthedoor fingers. She came and sat next to me, so I turned into our Mick, Dr Brooks and produced the paracetemol. We couldn't communicate, but she took them anyway. 5 minutes later I was hoping there are no allergies to paracetemol, but if there are "They probably only exist in the west" said the grumpy old man.
The bus made it to Vinh Long without injuring anymore of the passengers and it pulled over what seemed to be a very long way out of town and that is because it was. Even the other passengers acted surprised when I got out. There was a moto handy, with spare helmet, so it must be kosha...ish. I donned the helmet and hopped aboard, with a Gil hop. The driver knew the Guesthouse I wanted and didn't offer me any others, so that made life easier. Things are a little dearer here, $10 a night, but it has aircon, a first on my tour. I had a kip and then a wander. I bought 3 lottery tickets from an old dear, while I was sat on a bench on the river prom. I was having a bit of crack with 3 ladies at the food stalls by the kerb and a bloke came to join me, Trung, pronounced Chum. Don't ask me, I'm a Mackem. Unbelievably, he wanted to practice his English. I must have said or gestured something wrong to one of the ladies, because she started gobbing off and took the right hump. When I asked Trung what she said, he said he didn't know. Very diplomatic. There goes the Anglo-Vietnamese relations. Trung is an interesting bloke. Divorced and his wife and kids live in the States. He talked for about an hour or so and we arranged to meet for a coffee. 7 a.m. tomorrow. How did I fall for that one? I thought I had better move now I didn't have Trung to protect me from the food stall lady, so I wandered off into town. Vinh Long has a real nice feel about it, nestled on the Mekong. It feels like a working town, busy and never quiet not even during the night, but I like the place. The market here just seems to keep sprawling and spills over into the side streets and onto the kerbs. It runs right along the outside of the hotel. IT is mostly fruit, tons of durian. YAK!!!
I picked out a posh looking restaurant and sauntered in. I ordered hot pot. Nothing like Lancashire hot pot, but interesting. A group of ladies on the next table were having a right old laugh at me trying to use chopsticks. That bruised my chopstick ego, but I got the thumbs up later on to apply Tiger balm to the bruise. In between taking the mickey out of me, the ladies were giving it rice on the karaoke. They had a nerve laughing at me. Karaoke is everywhere, the Vietnamese love it. I stolled along back to the hotel and was going to have a beer in the cafe over the road, by the river, but it was heaving and the karaoke was in full swing, so I picked up a can of Tiger beer not balm, at reception and sat for a read on the balcony, then crashed out to the karaoke over the road. I must have been tired.