Update for Patrick

I’m back! No, not at home or ought like that; just online & blogging, like. So, I do feel a tad apologetic for my lack-o-bloggo for those what have read (enjoyed, even?) my musings thusfar. In the meanwhile, I’ve either not had reliable connection, will to type or actually time to consider either of these. Enough with the sorry already, you probably will find my location more interesting, huh??

I’m in HCMC. Not familiar with this acronym? Try Saigon on for size instead. Yip, capital of Southern Vietnam & infamous from n-n-n-n-19, for those old enough to remember that 80’s #1. So, that’s quite a geographical jump from the last chapter, but I aim to fill that gap later. I got here on Saturday night, late. Quite a baptism of fire, arriving into a new city at 10pm without a definite room booking, as you can probably imagine?! Got sorted easily enough with a room with the smelliest en-suite I’ve ever had the misfortune to frequent: would-be ammonia-cleaned gutters reeking up the pipes, otherwise ales knar.

Dumped the bags & headed for the more central backpacker area where we (my new German friends having been in Saigon a week ago, knew the score) settled down to some ‘Bia Ahoi’ which is watered down draft beer in a mug, but at 4000dong a glass, that’s about 4 mugs to a euro –who’s complaining?? We met an ocker Ozzie, Brad, who gave us his take on Vietnam. Loves it. He was an interesting character who made me laugh heartily when he did the standard routine of ‘where you from? - ME: Ireland. ‘ah, a Paddy, to be sure, to be sure……… ‘ - [& then, wait for it] ‘… oh, we don’t say that in Ireland’, in rather a good brogue, he added. One has never heard such a clever self-referential touché on the classic leprechaun slang before. He told us yarns about his wife of 7 months running off with the best-man, his mate of 20 years & his life as a young-crim in Brisbane.

Returning to sleep, I had my poorest night’s sleep since that night on the island, after diving, if you remember? You see, I’d developed ear trouble a few days ago, which increased incrementally with each day. I’ve been popping paracetemol to beat the band & using a nasal spray, which Lars, my German comrade, on hearing my symptoms, had proffered. It helped, but the discomfort woke me three or four times that night. So, yesterday, I went on a bid for medicality. (Oh & we moved to a nicer guesthouse too)

Now, you can imagine the difficulties of a) reading through the legalese of my travel insurance documentation to see what I was entitled to, b) calling their call centre to learn I could goto any doctor in Saigon to get a diagnosis, pay now & claim later. So, Easy!: c) Just find a doctor! I got the help of guesthouse owner who rang a few hospitals he knew. They turned out to be all closed. Sunday, you see. I too was surprised. I guess they took emergencies maybe? I got a second opinion from a pharmacist to the same result – I had to wait until Monday. Dammit, but I didn’t want to have to do this on Paddy’s Day. Nonetheless, I weathered Sunday as the discomfort waned a tad. This morning I got up early & headed to the EAR NOSE & THROAT hospital. Well, golly, but I’ve never had better service. They booked me in in jig time, got me a lovely translator who guided me through the various layers of bureaucracy, got my nose sprayed to clear the passages, wait 20minutes watching poor local kids scream in pain as the technicians administered their doses & then I saw my doctor. He diagnosed, using state-of-the-art camera equipment, ‘external otitis’; basically a non-serious ear infection. Relief for me that it wasn’t anything perforated.

Next came the prescription: No less than 5 different items. One set of drops & 4 lots of pills. It should clear in a week with these & if I don’t come out a pill-crazed patient, luck will be on my side. I proceeded to take 7 pills & 5 drops, as instructed. Despite the excellent service, they didn’t tell me that the biggest of the pills (containing paracetemol) was to be dissolved in water. Cut to scenes of mild hyperventilation outside the clinic, as I got a disc the size of 10p stuck in the oul oesophagus. I finally got it down with a litre of water & felt okay then. Cut to 45minutes later as I dash into the well appointed Norfolk Hotel for emergency sick-up session. Yip, the first bout of medication may not quite have made its way to my ear, just yet!

Enough of the medical history already. What else should you like to know about HCMC?? Well, similar to the rest of Asia, life is lived on a moto (mopeds, scooters or lo-fi motorbikes). Everyone’s at it & usually not alone. I cannot begin to tell you the multitude of humans, animals, tools, bricks, and various combinations of these you will see in a day here. It is becoming more normal for me though. Crossing the road is surprisingly easy, however. You just go for it. Slowly. Making good eye contact as you slowly proceed across the breadth of 20 or more revving mopeds. They slow or swerve, but I’ve not been struck yet.

Vietnamese food hasn’t won me over just yet…. Though, it could happen yet. I never embraced it in London either, mind. Rice, naturally, features a lot. Chicken is usually on the bone. Seafood abounds & pork crops up a fair bit too. Myriads of fruit – half of which I’ve not previously encountered. Durian is the scariest of fruits as the smell is quite off-putting; haven’t made friends with it as yet. The sweet-toothed Vietnamese are well catered for, so you would think that my luck too was in. Sadly no. First, everything is caked in ice (best avoided in Asia, unless you can be sure of the source & did I mention the Mekong??), and the concentration of e numbers in the brightly coloured unknown concoctions would boggle the mind I should think. In other words, I choose to play safe & perhaps starve my sweet-tooth a little more than normal.

OK, I’ve made a swipe at an update, it feels now top-heavy with my medical status, but hey-ho, I’m only as good as my body. Errrr! So, be assured that I’m in no way letting my minor maladies encroach on the experience. I am taking it easy as a tourist since hitting ‘Nam; no museums or galleries as yet; just trying to soak up the scene. Mañana, mañana. Next up is fetching myself a Vietnamese mobile, to replace the one I lost in Cambodia with all your numbers, grrr. & then make for the Oirish pub, gan dabht, & see what an Asian Guinness amounts to. Be good or be gone!