A good 20% of the Vietnamese population live at the tip of the country in and around a network of rivers known as the Mekong Delta. Extremely fertile, the land has been intensively developed for agriculture, yields 24.8 million metric tons of rice annually, and is able to feed 300 million people every year. Other crops flourish here too. It’s a true farm-to-bowl experience and dirt cheap.
Can Tho is one of the bigger cities in the Mekong Delta, but feels small and relaxed – much more chilled than Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh City. Crossing the road can be achieved with greater confidence. I’ve learned to trust that bikers won’t smash into you unless you take it upon yourself to do something stupid like take a sudden side-step.
My week in Can Tho was spent in a 4-storey homestay run by two grannies in their early hundreds. They were very sweet centenarians who lavished attention on me, often offering me small treats. One granny had missing teeth, and the other walked like the hunchback of Vietnam – probably due to a birth defect. Like the surrounding community, they spoke no English, and laughed when I used charades to communicate.
They seemed to take turns to sleep so that they could let guests in and out. I felt a little bad after returning from my evening walkabouts, when one would leap up from a thin blanket on the floor or the other would roll out of her hammock. I found it interesting that they seemed to prefer that basic sleeping-style over comfy beds.
I started to notice the daily routine of the locals. One man living close by got pissed and sang every evening. Two elderly men drank beer and played Chinese checkers all day. The younger generation spend their evenings dining together, hanging out at coffee shops, or queuing for smoothies. They all seem quite content with their geographical lot in life.
Daily thunderstorms allowed for some guilt-free lazing about to see what Netflix had recently spat out, after which I set off for my daily leg stretch. This was usually around a large pool of water which reflected all the colourful electrified signs of nearby establishments. I enjoyed sampling titbits of grub by selecting my preference with the pointing-finger. Everyone seems to be a cook of some kind or another. Of course, being pale and bearded, a rare sight in Can Tho, I was stared at with that sort of head-tilt that says, “why are you by yourself?” I think observers were curious. They live in such close-knit communities.
I would have liked to have explored and experienced the delta further, even though it is brown and polluted, but work commitments did not allow for this. I did, however, visit an interesting Taoist place of worship and snapped away merrily before noticing the ‘no photographs’ sign. I wasn’t able to stay long as the holy room was burning so much incense that it was hard to breathe! I’ve learned that most Vietnamese are non-religious, with mere smatterings of Catholics, Buddhists and Taoists.
I think their main religion is Family. And Food.
Next: Vietnam #17 – Crazy House
Previously: Vietnam #15 – No Escape
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