My bus took longer than Lonely Planet suggested, to get to Saigon, putting me there close to 7Pm, which was slightly worrying me because the hostel I had registered had made a note on their confirmation email about arriving before 8pm or they would give your room away. I know the Hostel was close to where the bus was dropping us off, but I couldn't get my bearings, as the street my hostel was on, seemed to be 3 different streets, or a part of them. It wasn't really a street, but a Labyrinth of alleyways, which is why it was so confusing. A lady in a blue uniform with lots of cub scout badges on her shoulders came up and said she would help me find my hostel. Then she kept emphasizing it was free--she was a city worker, or volunteer, and she took me right where I needed to be. I know at first I ignored her, but thats what you get when 95 percent of the people in this country that apporach you on the street are up to no good.
I checked into the hostel in the dorm room on the sixth floor. They had no elevator but had a motorized pulley to lift bags, and they were very insistent on using it. I made friends with the Irish and Brittish guys in my room, then went out for some street beer with the British guy and another girl from the hostel, where we sat across from a prosititute bar and watched an older guy come in with the little lost boy angle. It worked, but he got embarassed when he saw we were watching and aborted his mission.
I took the streets on my 2nd day and explored some of the local markets, ate some bad pho at a place called Pho 2000, and braved the public bus station for a bus route map that was completely impossible to read. I got back to the hostel in the afternoon to find out they wanted me to change rooms because the room they had placed me in wasn't really the dorm room; it was booked and they moved me to a double room. They kinda had a reputation for this on tripadvisor (which I read after i booked). I had a new roomate though, named Mark, from the UK, but currently living in the Phillipines. We went out for some Mexican food because we got to talking about it and had this siamese craving. It was good, but it was different. I was sad that they didn't put heaps of cilantro in my burrito though, because they love cilantro in Vietnam. Vietnamese burritos--hmmm. After dinner we went out for some drinking adventures and called it a night.
The next day I woke up and realized I was succumbing to the Congestion Devil. Not that this isn't normal for me, but I haven't had any problems my whole trip. I was worried the hostel may be filled with something I am terribly allergic to, like mold or uh, mutton. So I moved to a place that I knew had to be super clean, a Hotel, for one night. The hostel was not happy about it and wouldn't give me back the money I paid for the next day.
I arranged to meet some friends I had made through Luke and Jo in Hong Kong, Martin and Lauren, that evening. We had also coordinated our Mekong Delta trips for the following day so that we could be on the same one. I was 50-50 on going on the trip though, because my nose was really bad. Part of me was ready to abort my travels and just go home, but after some Vulcan pondering, I decided against it.
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