Ho Chi Min, old Saigon. Lots of legitimate hate on the US and several rounds at happy hour.

Our first stop out of Cambodia was to Ho Chi Min City in Vietnam, or old Saigon. We took a bus over the border, which wasn’t too bad. I’d heard some horror stories about the bus disappearing when people got out to walk through customs, etc. We were lucky I suppose. It all went ok.

Saigon itself doesn’t have THAT much to do, save for the war museum and related sites. If you go a couple of hours outside the city you can crawl around in the tunnels used by the Vietnamese during the war, and shoot a machine gun if you like. It sounds a little gruesome to me – shooting a gun into a previous killing field site? Reliving a massacre …

No? It’s just me?

I later heard a fellow backpacker tell a story about a dude from Michigan who had gone to the tunnels to shoot guns into the fields. According to this observer, the guy took off his shirt and insisted on wearing a belt of bullets across his chest while he gleefully shot into a field of imaginary people.

The kid telling this story wasn’t from the US, and after telling this story seemed to be looking at me to stick up for the people in my country. He seemed a little shocked when I just shrugged and said, “Yup, that sounds about right.”

Due to time constraints and lack of interest, we decided to hit up the museum but skip the tunnels.

I was a little ashamed to be an American as I walked through the Vietnam War museum. Just saying. I tried not to talk too much and hope that people thought I was Autralian. I get that a lot here anyway.

To escape the afternoon heat, we got Vietnamese massages from blind massuses who didn’t speak English. Talk about a lack of communication. The only thing they were able to tell me was to take my clothes off – they felt me up, realized I was dressed and started pulling.

If I thought the Vietnamese were the toughest people in SE Asia, the massage certainly proved it. Nothing like the stretching of the Thai massage, or the pressure points of Chinese – the Vietnamese literally just beat you in rhythm until you seem to be back in the right shape. A hour of getting slapped around is basically what you’re getting here. It felt ok, but I’m not a serious fan.

The market wasn’t too friendly either – they pulled and pushed and physically trapped you in their shops. If you decided not to buy something, they yelled at you and called you a bad person. It was a loooooot of fun.

But the one thing that they had plenty of in Saigon were AVOCADO SHAKES. OMG. The world’s greatest food. A little sweet, a little buttery and totally totally delicious. The saving grace to my first encounter with Vietnam.

That night I met up with a couple of Canadian guys we had met on the bus who had joined up with a few other girls from Canada and Australia. They were nice enough to let me hang out with them, even though I’m American. No one likes us over here, guys.

We hit up a bar for happy hour, which offered buy 2 get 1 free. Three of the kids decided to share drinks, which left Daniel and me to split 3 cocktails every round instead of just 2. You can imagine how well this turned out.

I was approached by the douchiest Australian guy ever rocking a rice paddy hat, ski goggles (?!wtf!?!) and a shit load of big red welts from a cupping massage he had gotten that day. As I asked him about the massage he pulled off his sexy sexy wife beater and told me how awesome it was. “Do you feel detoxed now?” I asked. “Huh?” Yeah. Great. Glad you really appreciated your cupping experience, jackass.

After about 2 more lines of conversation, he asked, “So, are we going to have sex tonight?”

“Umm, huh? That was quick. And blunt.” I mean, he was cute, but come on …

“I’m on holiday, you know. I don’t have time to flirt.”

“Hmm. Maybe? Wait, no. No, we’re not. I think I’m going dancing with my friends now.”

And we did. Drinking, dancing, stumbling and meeting up with more Australians. I swear, it’s fate telling me that Sydney will be awesome.

I rolled in at 2am or so. I was completely wasted as I got on the 7am bus to Dalat the next morning. God bless the early rising noodle lady