Goodbye Cambdia, Hello Vietnam

The minivan trundled down a mud road. Through the rain we could see a small hut and then a barrier across the road. This was it – the exit from Cambodia. Look carefully, you may be able to make out the sign! Our driver collected our passports and ran towards the hut, leaving us all in the van. 10minutes later, he was back, we were all dry and officially stamped out of Cambodia. A short drive later we came across some sturdier looking portocabin constructions. This was Vietnam. We had to leave the car – primarily so they could try and scam us, but thankfully our luggage could stay behind. We were given a form to fill out – a medical form and then if we could not produce a yellow fever certificate – charged a $1 health fee. If you did have yellow fever, paying a guard $1 seems a very easy way to cure yourself! I did not have my certificate on me as it is not required to get into any S E Asian countries. I was asked for my dollar, I told the official I did not have it and walked over to the passport processing area. It was the same official who came across and processed my details but he did not chase me for the money. I’m guessing everyone else paid up. I have since found out that those who crossed from the Phnom Penh border were asked for a $1 data fee . At least they only asked for one dollar, the Cambodian officials were far greedier in their demands. I was going to stay in the border town of Ha Tien for the night, but I made a split second decision to buy a bus ticket to Ho Chi Minh City as the bus was due in 15 minutes time. What I did not realise was the journey was 8 hours. It was only 2pm and as my original intention had been to stay put – I had not brought any provisions for the journey. I now had 10 minutes to find something I could eat (all the street stalls were meat and rice) and to pay for it – I had no Vietnamese money. I spied a bakery and got a couple of little baguettes for a dollar (Good job I had kept my hands on the money). When the bus arrived, it was not a coach as I was expecting but a rickety minivan with no leg room. Only 5 mins into the journey we stopped so large bags of rice could be stored under the seats, in the aisle and on the roof. Cramped would be an understatement. 3 hours into the journey, we pull up in a small town bus station. Rest stop perhaps – no – we were told to get off and another bus would pick us up in 15 minutes time. Before anyone had time to feel really apprehensive, the new minivan turned up and it was far roomier than the last one and no bags of rice or random locals were piled onboard. All continued fine for another 3 hours until we reached a set of traffic lights alongside the river. We presumed it was a one way traffic flow over a bridge – it was a ferry unloading. The van drove onto the ferry and the passengers all sat around looking perplexed. The door slid open and dozens of hawkers tried to get inside the van to sell goodies. There was meat on sticks, meat in dumplings, meat in bread, there was also drinks, cigarettes and giant cakes. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something I recognised. It was a bag of quails eggs. They cost me equiv 50 cents and I was simply hoping they were going to be hard boiled. My luck was in – they were hard boiled. As I started to peel my first egg – we docked. Turns out the ferry just shunted traffic across the river. I spent the remainder of the journey trying to eat my eggs – they were pesky little buggers to peel. We pulled into Ho Chi Minh City on time at 10pm. I teamed up with Shana – a girl on the bus, and we set off in search of beds.