A Sleepless Night in the Mekong Delta

The Mekong Delta decided to host what can only be described as the National Karaoke Championships, and every resident within a five-mile radius took part. Just when we thought the final contestant had finally been eliminated, the city DJ switched to festive bangers. Trúc Nhân at sunrise is a spiritual experience I didn’t ask for.

This was how we prepared for our bus journey from Mỹ Tho to Ho Chi Minh City — slightly delirious, mildly traumatised, and clutching our stomachs like Victorian invalids.

Travel in Vietnam, though, is a joy. People are kind, helpful, and permanently smiling — even at two sleep-deprived foreigners clutching their stomachs like Victorian invalids.

The Fish Problem (And Vietnamese Food Surprises)

There is only one problem: the food.

No matter how careful we are, our tummies revolt. We think it’s the five-spice blend — I hate the taste, Craig hates the smell, and it clings to everything like a determined ghost.

And then there’s the fish.

Fish is never far away in Vietnam. Even when you don’t order fish, you somehow get fish. You’ll peel a banana — a banana — and suddenly get hit with the most pungent fish taste known to mankind. What the hell. Is the banana tree irrigated with fish sauce? Are we being punked by the Mekong Delta?

Craig can’t stand fish, so when he gets a surprise hit, the food is spat out instantly. No hesitation. No warning. No manners. Just pure reflex. One second he’s chewing, the next second he’s launching it like a malfunctioning vending machine. I’ve stopped being shocked. I just hand him a tissue and carry on.

So breakfast is now fruit, lunch is plain bread, and dinner is a vibrant mix of both. Not exactly nutritious, but excellent for the waistline and wonderfully low-risk for unexpected seafood encounters.

Bus Travel from Mỹ Tho to Ho Chi Minh City

The bus company collected us from the hotel via taxi, dropped us at the station, and we hopped straight onto the bus to Saigon. Two hours, including taxi and a bottle of water: £1.50 each. Vietnam remains undefeated in value for money.

Originally called Saigon, the city kept that name through French rule and the Vietnam War. After reunification in 1975, it was officially renamed Ho Chi Minh City to honour Hồ Chí Minh, the revolutionary leader.

• Saigon = what locals still say

• Ho Chi Minh City = the official name

Even the airport code is still SGN, which tells you everything.

The Journey to Ho Chi Minh City

The bus had about six people on it — practically a private charter. Bliss. Until we hit traffic and the sun decided to laser-beam directly through my window.

Within minutes I was roasting like a Sunday chicken. So I switched sides, blasted the overhead air-con, and tried not to combust.

Craig, meanwhile, zipped up his fleece, turned off the air-con, positioned himself in full sunshine like a solar-powered reptile, reclined his seat, and nodded off. Two humans, one marriage, zero shared temperature settings.

Our driver turned out to be a rare breed in Vietnam: a man who actually uses his indicators. The only issue is he forgets to turn them off. So for half the journey we sounded like a beeping microwave.

The highway from Mỹ Tho to Saigon is reasonably good by Vietnamese standards — smooth tarmac, occasional pothole, and scooters overtaking us on both sides like we were parked. As we left town, little vans held together by hope and string buzzed around makeshift roadside carts. The closer we got to Saigon, the bigger everything became — trucks, tankers, lorries stacked so high they looked like they were transporting entire villages.

The Mekong Delta scenery, though, is shamelessly beautiful.

Rice fields stretched to the horizon, either bright green or golden stubble depending on the season. And then — plot twist — gravestones. Huge, ornate family tombs standing proudly in the middle of the paddies like VIP seating. Rice planted neatly around them. Life and death sharing the same square metre, no fuss.

Villages appeared in clusters: tiny wooden shops, chickens pecking at the roadside, kids in school uniforms strolling home like they had all the time in the world.

And then there were the men. Vietnamese men have a wonderfully relaxed approach to bathroom breaks. The bus would slow, a man would hop off his scooter, turn his back to the road and… contribute to the irrigation system. No shame, no hesitation. Just a quick sprinkle and back on the scooter.

Everywhere — absolutely everywhere — flowers. Yellow and orange explosions: marigolds, chrysanthemums, sunflowers. Stalls overflowing with them. Bikes so overloaded with bouquets they looked like mobile florists on the brink of collapse.

Then came our first sighting of Vietnamese law enforcement in full theatrical mode.

A chap had set up his bonsai tree display on the corner of a street. Beautifully shaped little trees. Very zen. The only issue was that he’d decided to extend the pavement by placing several extra rows directly into the road. Essentially, he’d annexed part of the highway for horticulture.

The police were not impressed.

They shouted. Then shouted some more. Then continued shouting until every last bonsai was dragged back onto the pavement. All the other shopkeepers watched with bowed heads, like schoolchildren silently praying the teacher wouldn’t pick them next.

First Glimpse of Saigon

Our first impression? Honestly… it looks exactly like the last town. Just bigger. Same concrete buildings, same tangle of cables, same scooters swarming like bees, same honking soundtrack — just turned up a few notches. It’s as if Vietnam took the previous city, hit Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V, and added an extra lane of traffic for good measure.

Arrival in Saigon

We finally arrived and I booked a Grab via the app, which whisked us through the chaos to the Yellow House Saigon Hotel. It’s tucked away down a tiny alley — hem 114 — the kind of lane where you’re not sure if you’re heading to a hotel or someone’s laundry room.

The room itself is fine. Functional. Clean. Just missing one small thing: a view. Our “window” opens onto a six-inch gap facing the neighbour’s external wall. If you squint, you can just about see daylight. If you’re lucky. Still, at £21 per night for two, it’s hard to complain. We’ve paid more for less, and at least this place doesn’t smell like surprise fish.

Initial Thoughts on Saigon

Saigon is our first big Vietnamese city, and it’s where we’re going to be based for Lunar New Year. We thought the vibrant, young, energetic atmosphere would be the perfect place to experience it — fireworks, food stalls, chaos, colour, the lot.

It also marks the end of our Mekong chapter. The rivers, the rice fields, the canals, the floating markets, the surprise fish bananas, the men watering the roadside — all of it. A whole world of its own.

The delta felt like something we’d quietly learned to understand.

Saigon feels like it’s going to test us and that means we will love it.