Just say 'khong!'
We left sleek and shiny Singapore and flew into the not-so-sleek and definitely not-very-shiny Vietnam. We landed at Ho Chi Minh City airport which looked like it had just been attacked. As we bobbled down the concrete runway, we passed crumbling hangars, broken aircraft and a fleet of half-dismantled helicopters. We spent an hour or so waiting for our visa to be cleared and then realised we didn't have enough US dollars to pay for both of us. We had to pay for Claire's so that she could clear customs, run outside to get some money from an ATM and then feed the cash back to me through the barrier - while I sat in a sort of quarantine area for ill-prepared idiots. Of course, what she handed me wasn't US dollars but about 2,000,000 Vietnamese dong. I had no idea how much that was. I just blindly handed over whatever the nice man with the uniform and the handgun told me to. Too much as it turns out.
Ho Chi Minh City (or Saigon if you're a local) is a big, seething, chaotic
maelstrom
of scooters and mopeds. These are used to transport everything from barrels to mattresses to livestock to families of five. We've even seen one guy carrying a tree on the back of his. And while the adults all dutifully wear helmets they seem worryingly happy to balance their unprotected babies and toddlers on the handlebars. Crossing the road is a skill you have to learn pretty quickly and it's a real test of nerve. Basically, you just step out into the traffic a
nd walk 
slowly and steadily across the road, hoping that all the mopeds (and their bizarre cargo) steer around you. Readers of a certain age may remember a videogame called Frogger. It's like that, only you don't get three lives.
Another skill we've had to master is fending off the unrelenting barrage of hawkers trying to sell you sunglasses, lighters, dodgy DVDs and occasionally drugs, wherever you go. You'll be sitting in a bar and suddenly a tower of
books will approach you, then a smiling face will pop out from behind it and squawk 'BOOK?!' at you. It 
can be a little disconcerting. The most useful phrase I have ever learnt is 'Khong, cam on' - no, thank you.
Another irritation is that you are constantly handed leaflets for various massage parlours every twenty paces or so. Claire and I took one girl up on her offer and were led down a seedy little alley to a surprisingly clean and bright looking 'spa centre'. Once inside, we were told to undress and lie face down on the beds. Then, without warning, the little masseurs jumped up on the bed and started walking up and down our backs. Then they sort of crawl around all over you, sticking a knee here or a toe there and generally slapping you about a bit. I couldn't see what Claire was having done to her but it didn't sound like she was getting hit as often, or as aggressively, as I was. I was literally dazed and confused - we'd asked for the 'relaxation' massage! Luckily, as I have some very energetic nephews, my body was slightly prepared. Then my masseur told me to lie on my back and she did something that no girl has ever done to me before. She attempted... to stand... on my groin. I involuntarily folded in two and yelped like a dog does when you stand on it's tail. She was very apologetic and started giggling. Claire, still face down and behind a curtain, was wondering exactly what sort of service I was receiving.
Ho Chi Minh City (or Saigon if you're a local) is a big, seething, chaotic
maelstrom
of scooters and mopeds. These are used to transport everything from barrels to mattresses to livestock to families of five. We've even seen one guy carrying a tree on the back of his. And while the adults all dutifully wear helmets they seem worryingly happy to balance their unprotected babies and toddlers on the handlebars. Crossing the road is a skill you have to learn pretty quickly and it's a real test of nerve. Basically, you just step out into the traffic a
nd walk 
slowly and steadily across the road, hoping that all the mopeds (and their bizarre cargo) steer around you. Readers of a certain age may remember a videogame called Frogger. It's like that, only you don't get three lives. Another skill we've had to master is fending off the unrelenting barrage of hawkers trying to sell you sunglasses, lighters, dodgy DVDs and occasionally drugs, wherever you go. You'll be sitting in a bar and suddenly a tower of
books will approach you, then a smiling face will pop out from behind it and squawk 'BOOK?!' at you. It 
can be a little disconcerting. The most useful phrase I have ever learnt is 'Khong, cam on' - no, thank you. Another irritation is that you are constantly handed leaflets for various massage parlours every twenty paces or so. Claire and I took one girl up on her offer and were led down a seedy little alley to a surprisingly clean and bright looking 'spa centre'. Once inside, we were told to undress and lie face down on the beds. Then, without warning, the little masseurs jumped up on the bed and started walking up and down our backs. Then they sort of crawl around all over you, sticking a knee here or a toe there and generally slapping you about a bit. I couldn't see what Claire was having done to her but it didn't sound like she was getting hit as often, or as aggressively, as I was. I was literally dazed and confused - we'd asked for the 'relaxation' massage! Luckily, as I have some very energetic nephews, my body was slightly prepared. Then my masseur told me to lie on my back and she did something that no girl has ever done to me before. She attempted... to stand... on my groin. I involuntarily folded in two and yelped like a dog does when you stand on it's tail. She was very apologetic and started giggling. Claire, still face down and behind a curtain, was wondering exactly what sort of service I was receiving.
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