I get up and have breakfast. The hotel may be a nice treat but its sterile with fake smiles and overly fancy furnishings and lights. Company is one of the main drawers to backpacking for me, but I consider that this is only for a few days. I go off exploring, but first take my camera to be fixed. I had found the location of a Canon repair centre which turns out to be fairly close to the hotel. I walk through the streets and if Hanoi was busy, it's got nothing on Ho Chi Minh. I eventually find the building and go to the repair desk. I explain I'm only here for a few days so now it's a wing and a prayer. I head to the war museum but it is closing in 20 minutes for lunch. One of the oddities of Vietnam. I go see the Notre Dame Cathedral and look at the old colonial post office. The church doesn't open till 3pm but the post office is a beautiful old building. Beautiful wooden interior. I head back to the war museum and find it a very humbling place. America should be ashamed as a nation. The photos of burned and naked children crying, being led along a road by GIs will haunt me. Pictures showing the disfigurement of phosphorous bombs. I have noticed in Vietnam extremely small disfigured people and now know why. Agent Orange was the cause and the photos in that section of the museum are heartbreaking. Even with Vietnamese independence from the French in 1945, America aided with large quantities of military equipment in order to gain valuable tin and tungsten. When the French left in 1954, America sponsored Ngo Dinh Diem, giving 28.5 million in military aid. Backed by America, the puppet president helped with the propaganda of Communism. The people overthrew him in 1960, but by this stage the damage was done and would only be a matter of time before America stepped in. Whilst looking at the tanks sitting outside in the courtyard, I get a phone call from Canon. Incredibly they have repaired my camera.
Notre Dame cathedral is now open. Most of its blocked off so a quick photo and that's it. A large interior but you can only look in the entrance. I go pick up up my camera and go for Latte loaded with cream and a croissant to celebrate. I head back to the hotel and get ready to explore the night.
Trying to find the backpacker area I ask a guy for directions. An Austrian called Rene, who is on his way there. I tag along and find a bustling street full of street vendors, roadside local restaurants, bars and backpackers. We sit upstairs at a restaurant he knows. Pretty much a western menu but the burger is tasty anyway. Rene lives in South America, but with work spends a lot of time in Vietnam. The last 4 years has seen him coming here. After a few Saigon beers he shows me a little roadside cafe, selling mainly fresh grilled fish. We sit at one of the tiny little tables. Rene tells me the whole street used to be full of places like this, the street covered with tables and chairs but there are too many people now. He knows the owner and comes here regularly. We order a dish called bat tow, spelt wrongly but fresh squid with laksa leaves (Vietnamese corriander). The leaves are spicy like pepper and comes in a laksa sauce. Very tasty and shows why street food is one of Vietnam's highlights. I love this location, there is so much to look at from vendors to backpackers. We watch some lads with a drone trying to film the area and the cafe we are at. There are many street vendors and constantly smiling and saying no to them. Rene tells me about his 4 month old baby girl he has in Argentina, but unfortunately his work takes him away from his family. A young tenacious little girl won't take no for an answer. Trying to haggle, but she is not sure and goes to her mum for advise. We play rock paper scissors and win the fan I had chosen. We laugh and the girl poses for a photo. Rene tells me he used to be a professional snowboarder, with Japan having the best snow he has rode. We go for a beer at the phi bar to see a live band but unfortunately they have just finished. We stay for a few drinks but Rene has work. He advices me about a good nightclub and one of his friends takes me there on his moped. The club is called Rush and has several floors. A mixed crowd of locals and backpackers. The music is good old house, with another room playing more urban sounds. I had arranged a pick up at 4am. Whilst waiting I speak with a local who is a little worse for wear. I comfort the guy and we speak in broken English. His friend turns up and after shaking my hand stumbles to the bike. Unfortunately my ride doesn't show and no other taxis or bikes around. I spend a few hours walking back. Tired I fall onto the bed.