Two weeks back at work and its time for another holiday. Lunar New Year has spun around once more with the Tiger bowing out to its domesticated cousin. As our finances were drooping pathetically from recent events we decided to stay in the city.
It’s Vietnamese tradition to return to your hometown, in a similar vein to Western Christmas, and the story was that for the only time during the year the city would be like a ghost town. As the New Year loomed the roads did begin to empty but not to the extent we were hoping for. The crowds thinned but the horns of bikes and taxis stilled filled the thick air of Saigon.
After a few days of excess we decided it was time for some fresh air and we jumped on the motorbike for a mini-trip road trip to the coast. With Tim singing in his head we zoomed out of the city. Kicking up dust clouds behind us as we pushed on into the glare of the sun we looked in bemusement at the loose stones covering the road, deciding their only purpose could be to provide travellers the desert road movie feeling they were hankering for.
After a couple of hours, a packed ferry that looked like it had been raised from the bottom of the river and an expensive plastic bottle of green petrol we arrived in Can Gio. Can Gio is a small coastal town with black sand and a small settlement of monkeys. Tim and I drove down to the beach, though not as literally as some of the Vietnamese. We managed to leave the bike in a car park and walk the few hundred metres to the black beach, though this seemed to much of an ask for one family who had driven their bike down to the water ready for some polluted seaside fun.
We took a swift walk down the beach, ignoring the stares from the Vietnamese families enjoying the fun and excitement of densely packed crowds. Running away for the jaw-dropping stares at the colour of our skin we went to visit the monkeys.
We were excited to visit Monkey Island, where we presumed we would find a higher level of monkey civilisation. We would be welcomed onto their island and given a tour of their city, probably including the Town Hall and the cathedral before visiting the museum to immerse ourselves in their culture, stopping to try the local delicacies in the many award-winning restaurants.
To be honest when we arrived we were a little disappointed. Firstly it wasn’t an island and secondly there were no monkey tour guides anywhere in sight. In fact it seemed these monkeys were only interested in fighting amongst themselves and gorging themselves on popcorn and chocolate. They needed a leader. Unfortunately they wouldn’t accept Tim as one of them, let alone their new messiah - apparently they were holding out for Mike Yeo to lead them into the 21st Century. So we settled with a walk within the mangroves, which was very pleasant indeed.
We came across one deluded man, who was so confused by the island that he obviously thought that monkeys eat stones. His maniacal laughter worried me as he lobbed rocks at the harmless creatures until I realised that his frontal lobotomy had been so expertly done there was no trace of a scar anymore. The wonders of modern medicine.
Road trip over we left the monkeys to discover fire in their own time.
