I can almost hear my Mum turning pale from here. I will allay your fears. Firstly, in the UK there is no way on earth I would ever consider going near a motorbike. Working in a solicitors office for a few years which specialised in road traffic accidents put paid to that. The motorbike accidents were nearly always very serious or fatal. Also I am a scardy cat. I am the archetypal wimp. No way am I going to sit on something which might move fast or worse - lean over to go round corners! Motorbikes here are very different. In terms of speed and noise they are similar to a moped or vespa. They go very slowly which is how they are able to weave in and out of each other on the roads, and everyone is very aware of other road users, the overwhelming majority of which are also motorbikes.
In Ho Chi Minh city it is fairly common to use motorbike taxis both to get from A to B and as tour operators. We have not really seen the centre of town, if we know what the 'centre' is, so we get chatting to a man to look for a tour of the main sights. This man, in contrast to the thousands of other motorbike drivers who call out to us, has a notebook full of recommendations from other travellers, some of whom even leave their email address or phone numbers for verification. And the motorbike tours are called Xe om, literally, 'Motorcycle Embrace'
The next minute we are be-helmeted and weaving our way through the streets of Saigon. Wind in my hair, not a whisper of fear in me, I get a sudden rush of happiness. I love Saigon, I think suddenly, I love its colour and its cheeriness. I love its vitality. I love that we are taking this trip. And it is so so nice not to be talking or thinking about the war.
Our driver is feeling the love too. 'You are lucky to have each other', he says as we stop to take in a temple. He teaches us to say 'I love you' in Vietnamese. It is something like (and I am spelling this just as it sounded), 'An ao em'.
"An ao em" M says to me, amid much hilarity from our two drivers.
"An ao em", I say back.
"An ao em", M says to the driver.
They must think we are insane.
But I am feeling both loving and loved by the city at the moment. The pace at which my mind changes and adjusts surprises me and it is tiring - but also kind of marvellous. Our brains are indeed fearfully and wonderfully made. And mine is not even the best possible example of one. Or maybe it's not just my brain. Maybe it's this place.
We have had a lovely couple of days. Last night we finally met our host, O. O takes on guests not for the money, she tells us. She already has an enviable job as a journalist. But she loves to meet people and hear their stories. What I really like about O, who leaves us a present of some dried and sugared banana strips in the morning before our trip to Cu Chi tunnels and immediately whisks us out for dinner when we arrive home, is that she is not bubbling over with extrovertion (it's not a word but you know what I mean). Instead she is quietly spoken and gentle. I like her very much. She is easy to be with and talks to us naturally and with impeccable English (putting even more to shame our very 'peccable' Vietnamese!). But she is not overbearing or loud. She wants to listen, not only to talk.
Just as an aside, she is also reading our blogs! But I can honestly say that I would have written all of this even if she wasn't. Both O and her house with its endorsements of happiness and quirky layout, are charming and peaceful. The climate and the layout of Vietnamese houses mean it is also frequented by various wildlife, both welcome and unwelcome, but neither M nor I particularly mind that and in a way it adds to the charm of O, her house and generally her outlook on life. Also the little cat now sleeps with us each night albeit, typically, she prefers M. Why do cats always do that? I love them much more and am a far superior stroker. I tell them that but they never listen.
Not only this, but we have just been to the ao show, an inventive set of little scenes of Vietnamese life done through amazingly imaginative things with acrobatics and bamboo. It was quite breathtaking (think cirque de soleil with more bamboo).
The only small blight on this Vietnam love in today was the age old bargaining problem. Our taxi driver had been wonderful but at the end asked for double the price we had agreed. This may have been a genuine misunderstanding. The price was for an hour and we have had two, so logically it should be double. But the price agreed was already more than we believed we should pay. In retrospect certain things he said make me think he was a nice man who was not trying to rip us off. And I hated the awkwardness at the end. I find it hard to walk away, hard to bargain hard and hard to stick to the agreed price in the face of someone who seems genuinely aggrieved. I don't want to upset people. I want us all to be happy and our consciences clear. I am saddened to think we upset this nice man, though internet research both before and after tells me that we did give him a reasonable fee in the end. It casts a shadow over a lovely trip if you let it. M and I agree that we did right to know the price we should pay and to agree one up front. But next time we will be clearer on what the tour should contain and how long for. Westerners, with their politeness, dislike of confrontation and lack of bargaining experience are simply not cut out for this. Or perhaps, as I say to M, I am a soft touch. 'No kidding' he says.
But still. This changes nothing about the rest of the day. And now we must leave to go to a swing dancing class with O.
Vietnam, I think an ao em.
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