Bamboos, conic-shaped straw hats, palm trees, Rambo.

Vietnam always intrigued me as a place to visit and, Ho Chi Minh being on our destinations network, it comes as no surprise I bid for it.
Not alone in these thoughts, I join a crew of twelve who are equally excited about flying to this idyllic destination right in the heart of Indochina and, once the positive atmosphere invades the cabin, we perform our services amongst European passengers of Vietnamese descent who, at times, address me in fluent French. As most flights to Asia in the monsoon season, the journey to Saigon turns bumpy, preventing us from serving a second meal for over three hours and only subsiding as we fly over Bangkok.

Motorcycles, neon lights, noise and high rise buildings.

Ho Chi Minh City strikes me as the organised mess it is. The wide avenues clog with traffic in which motorcycles of all kinds weave through in completely irrational patterns. The boulevards open to large grassy roundabouts where solitary monuments salute to the warm sky.
Once changed into normal clothes, my crew and I meet at the reception and walk through an almost impossible crossing for pedestrians, finally making it into the Backpacker Street right in time for dinner.
A smiley waitress places plastic-wrapped menus and glasses of coconut water on the wooden table. The balcony, enveloped in green neon lights and overlooking the busy street some twenty meters below, is the perfect place for a hot dish of noodles with seafood and beers, whilst the evening is paid for in hundreds of dongs that equal six US dollars. A tour is booked.

After a good sleep and at seven in the morning, the crew and I gather around a cream-coloured minivan and leave Ho Chi Minh in a state of sleepwalking, whilst across the street, elderly people join forces in a session of communal yoga at Cong Park.
It is a three-hour journey to Can Tho along a motorway surrounded by flat pads of rice, whilst the humid terrain around the bumpy road turns the air damp and moist.

On arrival, the diary reads:

     ‘Have you ever been to a place that you never thought you would ever set a foot on?. This was it for me. As I was looking at the Mekong River and was about to ride a boat in the murky waters just thought to myself : ‘So, I am in Vietnam. How come? ‘.

Once the boat sails from the dingy pier, the smell of burn kerosene is replaced by the intoxicating aromas of ripe fruit and sliced coconut from the floating market. Like no other goods-exchanging facility I have ever seen before, the narrow wooden boats sell everything from papayas to toys, from toilet paper to live pigs. The boat cruises along the brown freshwater whilst the local life revolves around whirlpools of muddy shores and trees.