Chau Doc was already buzzing with traders and cyclo drivers touting for business. We joined another group of people who were crossing the border to Cambodia by boat that day. We will be returning to Chau Doc in a couple of weeks to make the same crossing, when our time in Vietnam comes to an end.
We were due to take a boat for a short trip across the river. With little time for breakfast, our nourishment came from a fruit smoothie (sinh tố) slurped quickly at the boat terminal.
On the other side of the river was a collection of floating houses, one of which doubled as a fish farm.
The air was pungent with the yeasty smell of fish food being cooked, which is apparently made from rice flour and sweet potato - ingredients that are not too dissimilar to the ingredients in the vegan fish we ate last night. The fish live, contained, underneath the house. A panel of the floor was removed to reveal a square full of John Dory, red snapper and catfish. They boiled in the water as the food was poured over them.
Next to the (Vietnamese-owned) fish farm is a small village belonging to the Cham people. The Cham here follow Islam. The men of the village fish and tend the rice fields, while the women, who have their heads covered, are taught the skills of weaving, using a hand-operated loom.
We reached the village by way of a rickety wooden bridge from the river. Behind the houses is a mosque and Muslim cemetery.
Back on dry land, we parted from the group heading to Cambodia and started our journey back to Saigon, stopping at the most stunning Buddhist temple just outside Chau Doc.
The temple is half way up Sam mountain, which given the pancake flatness of the surrounding region, is an astonishing aberration in the landscape. After a short climb up some stone steps, we reached an exquisite garden and a breathtaking view over the fields to Cambodia.
Monks in orange or brown robes milled serenely about the grounds, making offerings, praying or drinking tea and chatting. After a couple of rooms with Buddha statues, we noticed a small dark passageway. Heading into the darkness, we entered the caves in the hill around which the temple is built. It was a maze of small chambers, each one populated by beatific statues ensconced in nooks in the cave walls.
Beeping and bumping, we made our way back to HCMC, while I tried not to impale myself on the straw in my cup of iced coffee as we hit one of the many bridges in this area.
We passed the lush green rice paddies as workers (predominantly women) toiled in the fields wearing iconic conical hats under the midday sun.
For lunch we stopped in Vinh Long. We had a homestay on Vinh Island, on the opposite side of the river, two days ago. This was an opportunity to explore the main town.
Vinh Long has a large and colourful market, chiefly selling fruit and vegetables. We took lunch at one of the many food stands that have sprung up to serve the hungry market traders and other passers-by. As we sat on small stools at a stainless steel counter, the friendly lady opposite beamed as she prepared our meal for us. A simple bowl of rice was transformed by some mock meat and a pile of vegetables, some crunchy, some soft, some sweet, some savoury. For 15,000 dong (about 45 pence) this was food for the people.
After a whistle-stop visit of the local military museum, which was disappointingly only in Vietnamese, we relaxed in a café overlooking the Co Chien river with a cold beer (333 again). My glass brimmed with ice, which went straight into the river.
Snacking on jackfruit we bought in the market, we enjoyed a more comfortable journey back to HCMC courtesy of a bigger bus that seemed to have been fitted with some suspension.
Wednesday night means swing dance and we arrived back in the city with enough time to get to the class. We made a brief fuel stop on the way at Bùn Sài Gòn, a simple noodle shop near Ben Thanh market, which was advertising món chay (vegetarian dishes). Once inside, however, there was no sign of meat-free food on the menu. We enquired and were told the chay options of the day. This 'secret' vegetarian menu seems to be a feature of Vietnamese restaurants, so it is well worth asking. We had a tasty shiitake noodle soup (with fat udon-style rice noodles known as bánh canh) and a thin rice noodle bowl with chopped spring rolls, crunchy lettuce, Thai basil and vegetarian fish sauce (known as bún chả giò).
Back in the big city, I had expected to be overwhelmed after the relatively placid and unhurried pace of life in the Mekong Delta. Instead, the streets appeared quieter with fewer vehicles, the humidity less oppressive and the city more manageable. Is this acclimatisation?
At swing dance, we went over the basic step again, which was a much needed refresher, plus a couple of turns. The class is held in an upmarket coffee shop and is frequented by international expats as well as young Vietnamese with an excellent command of English and a love of the early 20th century aesthetic.
As we arrive home, Chiba the cat was literally pinging off the walls. Starved of our attention over the last few days, she was eager to play and it was all we could do to calm her down so that we could go to sleep.
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