Middle-aged flash packers

Sleep didn’t come easily  last night so when the alarm went off at 7.30am I requested an emergency half hour addition to our allotted wake up time. Jet lag is one of those things it’s better not to succumb to, but this morning it was very tempting to just keep sleeping.

A workout at the gym soon woke us up. For some reason, workouts abroad seem so much harder than at home. The machines seem to all be set on extra extra hard with no way of changing them and even the weights seem heavier. Still ,  feelings of virtue and general smugness suffused us after which  was nice. 

After coffee at Coffee Coffee (rather appropriately we had two coffees at Coffee Coffee, the second one reminiscent of Saigon diesel fumes), we decided to view HCMC from the water so we risked life and limb and crossed a busy dual carriage way to just make the water taxi before it left port. 

I’m sick of writing HCMC so I’m now going to write Saigon as it appears this has now become fashionable again. Last time we came here it was very frowned upon to call Saigon Saigon but now it’s ok to call it by its pre communist name , so that’s what I’m going to do.

The river that flows through Saigon is not the Mekong but is in fact the Saigon River. I did not know this. It is full of crap which I suspected but now definitely know.  

We did see some interesting things, the most interesting of which was watching people releasing goldfish into the river. According to legend putting fish into the river pleases the Kitchen  God  and provides the family concerned with good luck and prosperity. Not much fun for the goldfish though – pretty much dead in the water straight away looking at the state of the river. As for eating any fish out of the River Saigon, I’ll take my chances without you bestowing good luck on me thanks  Kitchen God –   and mine’s a beef steak. 

By the time we got back to the hotel, it was afternoon tea time, or lunch in our case. Another delicious spread, very much appreciated.

Next, a quick walk down town to the Independence Palace. Underwhelming, looks like a college building, but we did like the Post Office  near by with a big portrait of Mr Ho Chi Minh inside. 

We were back just in time for our massage package – back, feet and in my case, face.

Bliss,  apart from the hot stones which were excessively hot. If the masseuse had thrown water on me, I’d have sizzled. 

All too soon, it was time to leave for the airport for our flight to Sydney.

As I write we are currently sitting on the plane , delayed due to a lady who has boarded the flight feeling very unwell. Ho hum. (chi Minh)