By Louis Dai 15 Feb, , No good. One of them punches the cement wall as his comrades burst out in laughter. Three ladies swallowing their soup ravaging the four of us with seductive leers. Their trailer trash clothes tell tales of deplorable sins. Their hands fondle each other in the Nether regions. We had been traveling around Vietnam for about a fortnight now and Chau Doc was to be our last stop as we headed across the border for Cambodia.
Lots of tourists stop here as its the closest town to the two most convenient Vietnam-Cambodia border crossings, Tinh Bien and Vinh Xoung. Besides, Chau Doc is home to an eclectic assortment of tourist attractions. Once the sight of a Khmer Rouge massacre, Chau Doc now has a bone pagoda that is a spitting image of its more famous cousin Choeung Ek, while the glorious Sam Mountain which is perched right over Cambodia allows travelers to indulge in panoramic views of a land filled with mines and tuk-tuk drivers.
But it was late at night and we had been strolling about its somber streets in search for a good time. Feral dogs and homeless men were following our shadows now and then biting at and furrowing through the garbage that lied scattered on the streets. Ever since we had had our first encounters with these 50 cent bowls of traditional Vietnamese soup we had fallen in love with them. As Lachlan and I climbed into the two-seat carriage Nic stood there stranded.
There were three of us but it was clear that these vehicles had been designed with two passengers in mind. But nothing is ever impossible in Vietnam. Photo opportunities are abound even on the streets where drivers stretch their 50cc vehicles to the limit piling ludicrous amounts of balloons vegetables noodles passengers whatever on them.
It was with this capricious imagination that our crisis was solved. As Lachlan and I sat in the carriage, Truong pointed to the five inch metal beam that connected the seat of the driver to the carriage.
