The trials of being so sweet.

Having obviously noticed that Tim’s vascular system is a river of evil the mosquitoes of Vietnam have singled me out for their car-bombing attack, for some strange reason specifically targeting my feet and ankles. The result being that my right foot looks like I’m the latest victim of the bubonic plague. At least it’s not rabies, thought it may well be very localised bouts of malaria. They do itch and I’m sure that’s a symptom.

Although we are still in semi-holiday mode and it is permitted to increase your alcohol content on such occasions it is still a worrying state of affairs when beer costs the same as water and you are determined to immerse yourself in the life of the city, regardless of the fumes. Tim and I have spent many a happy dusk watching the city transform from dusty vibrancy to neon shouts from plastic deckchairs on the pavement with aforementioned beer in hand. The natural light begins to dim slightly about 5.30pm, hovers for 20 minutes and then seemingly plunge headfirst into darkness, when the strain is taken on my the street-lights. With the night is brought some semblance of calm, well the best HCMC in the centre of the tourist area can offer, and a slight breeze to make watching the world go by on a dirty street a very pleasant pursuit indeed. As in the day the street vendors are an indominatable force and we have been debating their probable hierarchy since arrival. As soon as they lay eyes on a Western face, as in many other places in the world where tourist numbers are high but can do nothing to match the population of the poor, you are offered everything for the normal and the expected; such as cigarettes, sunglasses and Vietnamese trinkets to the slightly strange; such as dried squid, which look uncannily like saline drips and photocopied editions of many English to the bizarre; portable height and weight machines attached to wheelchair wheels, so that fat Westerners can be appalled at their excess.

The trials and tribulations of eating are getting easier and we no longer feel as if we are paying 3 times the price of locals for simple street fare, just about twice the price now. As we begin to step out of the tourist areas and get a motorbike – which seems to be a passport to less hassle from street-vendors and motorbike taxis (obviously), we should work out soon how much strange meat is actually worth in this town.

At some point maybe we’ll teach an English lesson.