(A tiny part of) the Mekong Delta

After we crossed the border out of Cambodia--after the travel agencies herded us around--it dawned on us that the bus we were on--destination, Saigon--didn't have a dedicated stop at My Tho. My Tho was on the way, and this bus was the travel agency's quickest way of getting rid of us. I was concerned that we'd have to go all the way to Saigon and backtrack. Jay was concerned that they'd drop us at the side of the road and we wouldn't be able to get a cab to the guesthouse. Rick had had it, period, and threatened to get off at Rach Gia. That wasn't an option as far as I was concerned; we were flying out of Saigon the following night. So we stayed on the bus as it honked its way across the Delta. The part of the ride for which we had daylight was, at least, beautiful. But at that point, none of us reacted much to rice paddies, with or without water buffalo. It got dark. I slept intermittently (the seats reclined fully). Around midnight, we stopped at a truck stop for a half-hour break. I marked my territory by way of my very productive coughing.

Around 1am, the bus did indeed drop us off the side of the road at My Tho, but it wasn't long before we saw a cab. We showed the driver where to go... except Google Maps got it wrong, so we took him slightly the wrong way. He had to call the guesthouse, and the owner directed him. We didn't blame him one bit for not speaking English, even though, in practice, it made communication a challenge. But it all worked out. We got there, the hostess and staff showed us to our rooms, we slept it off (or at least I did). I'm a good sleeper; my body will sleep, and if it doesn't for whatever reason, it'll make up for it next time. I set up my mosquito net and used my earplugs. I don't remember whether we were woken up by roosters (we were elsewhere, even in Snooky; in Luang Prabang, it was monks, who drum at 4am).


Our flight was at midnight; Saigon was about an hour away. One day was all we had to see the Delta, and I was hell-bent on seeing it, asked the hotel owner about tours. Rick was done.

The hotel staff guy brought over a couple of tour options: a group tour, or a private tour for the three of us that didn't cost much more, since there were three of us, and that would give us more flexibility time-wise.

Rick: I'm just going to get a cab to the airport. I'm done.

A.: There's a snake farm.
Rick: Really? I'm in.

Jay was skeptical, and I didn't blame him. He thought it would be more Tonle Sap tourist trap. I didn't have high hopes for the tour, but I thought it'd be better than nothing. We were going to spend a lot of time in airports and planes. I wanted to do something worthwhile on our last day.

We had an hour or so--we gave ourselves a leisurely morning. Jay and I biked out to an ATM across town, and then we all just chilled at the guesthouse until it was time to go.

The tour pleasantly surprised us all. I wasn't impressed in the morning; it was Disneyland in the Mekong Delta with how this island had been turned into a tourist trap. But it was relaxing and pleasant, so I wasn't complaining. We sampled local fruit and tea

 and went on a Disney-like small-boat ride near the mangroves and water coconut trees.

 Then we saw the coconut candy factory.

After a pretty decent lunch, our motorboat took us to My Tho. And that's where I went from "at least I'm not at the airport" to "mission accomplished." This was the Mekong Delta.

Our guide took us to a clothing factory

and to Vĩnh Tràng temple.

And then across the way, to the market.

And then, as the sun was setting, out to the Coconut Monk's island. His Coconutship had interesting tastes.

After that, we saw some fireflies and caught our bus--with the help of the hotel staff guy, who met us at the dock and made sure we got to the right place and on the right bus, and that there'd be a non-scamming taxi waiting for us at the bus stop in Saigon. We were all very happy with the last day of our trip. We were also ready to go home.