Article:

LESSONS ON TAKING A CHANCE

By Jayne Seagrave

 

We all know people who always err on the side of caution. When you tell them you are travelling alone, they inevitably describe the most horrendous event which happened to a friend, of a friend, of a friend of theirs over 25 years ago somewhere in the world, which they feel sure could happen to you…and that because of this catastrophic event, you should either not embark on your adventure, or, if you insist, only go with an army of security guards and insurance to cover every possible eventuality. When this encounter happens to me, which as I get older, does with alarming regularity, I usually politely nod and seek a quick escape from their paranoia. I act with a desire for adventure and new experiences in mind, reflecting only on the positive and how it will make me grow as a person, without weighing up what could go wrong. While I assess the risks, I inevitably take a chance.

This was my unshakable philosophy during a recent visit to Vietnam, a wonderful country still recovering from the United States invasion but trying so hard to start afresh in welcoming strangers with open arms and smiling faces, knowing the tourist’s dollars are helping to relaunch their country.

One day during my tour, I found myself tired of walking the hot streets of Ho Chi Min City (formally Saigon), exhausted from attempting to cross the scooter clogged roads, and desperate for a calmer time to recover before I could tackle the city again. But I did not want a bar or restaurant, as these were adjacent to the busy, noisy streets with their gas fumed environments and constant dust. There was, however, the majestic Saigon River which flowed through the centre of the metropolis. The previous day I had noticed large, brightly painted Dragon Boats which were wonderfully appealing. These were patronised by neatly attired, white-faced tourists, cans of coke in sweaty hand, sporting bright orange life jackets, cell phone cameras at the ready, about to embark on a river cruise. I headed in their direction, content with my decision to watch the cities noise and pollution float by from the relative tranquility of the water, while resting my hot, aching body and drinking the local Tiger beer.

As I approached the quay where the Dragon Boats were moored, an animated, smiling, young women who (I think) wanted 400,000 Vietnamese Dong (about $20.00) for an hour Dragon Boat ride greeted me. She followed me as I walked in the direction of the boats, understanding my intentions and realising I was not attached to a tour group, having no doubt honed her ability to read blue eyed, tall strangers over the past. I too had experience of this tourist/vender dynamic and knew not to accept her initial offer. I walked confidently by, but my pace slowed, a subtle way for her to discern I did have an interest, but that I was also a savvy customer, not prepared to be parted easily with the strange currency in my purse. How about 300,000 she yelled, how about 100,000 I cried back, not turning my head. She ran up to me, waving a piece of paper torn from a receipt book. We settled on 200,000 ($10.00) my much-needed rest gratefully in sight.

I confirmed, by pointing to a heavily used paper map she had quickly produced, I would be away for an hour, and very importantly return to this embarkation point. She shook her head vigorously, smiled, and repeated; “yes, yes, yes.” now only half concentrating for, as our agreement had been made, she was keeping a keen eye out for other potential clients.

Communication between the two of us was rudimentary, although there was a lot of smiling and nodding. She wrote 250,000 on a piece of paper from the scruffy book, which was to serve as a receipt, and I shook my head, stating it was 200,000. I did not blame her for trying to inflate the agreed price, and in retrospect, maybe I should have paid an extra 50 cents, but there was a principle involved. I handed her the crisp, unfamiliar notes. The deal was done.

Instead of leading me to the gaggle of brightly coloured vessels, where the tourists and their guides were milling around, and the hawkers were selling fridge magnets and scarves, and small carved Buddhas, I was taken to an area where the concrete quay was cracked, the litter unremoved, and my western travelling contemporaries absent, to a somewhat weather beaten much older vessel. There was a dragon at the front of this boat, but its paint was chipped and faded, having clearly seen better days many decades ago. A man appeared from the bowels of the boat. Animated rapid conversation was exchanged with my vendor who then quickly moved away, and the man presented a hand to help me climb on board. It was only once on the boat I found there was only to be me, together with this casually dressed man, who I quickly realised was The Captain. There were no life jackets, and the smell of fumes was prevalent. The engine made a loud irregular rattling noise, which did not inspire confidence. The smiling Captain placed a green plastic garden chair in the middle of the deserted cabin for me to sit on and headed to the front of the vessel out of my view, and we set off.

It was at this point I realised this was to be my own, private cruise on the Saigon River. I could not believe my luck. Let the adventure begin! I was in seventh heaven. How many get to charter their own boat in Vietnam? Immense satisfaction took hold for the first fifteen minutes of the voyage, as I basked in the intense enjoyment I was to be totally alone in this unique, never to be forgotten, venture. Gradually the expensive, water-front apartment blocks gave way to poor wooden hut accommodation, and the muddy banks of the brown river became scattered with plastic bags and other garbage. Washing lines hung by these shacks and chickens plucked at the ground. The river widened and the water traffic decreased. There were no other Dragon Boats. The river was mine. A real adventure never to be forgotten, all for less than ten dollars. Could life get any better?

After thirty minutes the boat showed no intention of turning around as we continued to keep a steady pace and head further away from the city. At this point a mild panic set in. I had a real fear The Captain, who I could still not physically see, didn’t understand the young women’s instructions and I was going to be dropped far away from Ho Chi Min City and tasked with trying to make my own way back. This thought remained for a while, then as the vessel continued its course, showing no signs of turning, my imagination took hold and negative thoughts dominated. I decided I was to be trafficked into Laos or Cambodia or China, and then be made to eat insects for a week, sleep in a jungle and eventually be murdered. Echoes of my mother and girlfriend’s advice rang in my head, stressing I should not take chances and should always follow the conventional route. After 35 minutes this Dragon Boat was not turning round charting a steady onward course with the noisy engines still turning. The buildings on the riverbank were now increasingly rare. The Captain still not in evidence.

At this point my anxiety was considerable, and I debated what my options were. The journey was no longer enjoyable. Instead of congratulating myself for chartering my own private excursion, I castigated myself for being so foolish, as my mind provided a litany of scenarios, ranging from who would find my body, would my health insurance cover the repatriation costs of my corpse to Canada, and who would be chosen to clear out my hotel room and remove the underwear, washed that morning and drying in the bathroom.

Then, as if sympathizing with my overactive imagination, the engines changed their tone from the banging, erratic tone and the boat made a wide circle and headed in the direction from which we had come. Suddenly all was well. I was going to survive. We were returning. I had made the right decision. I would never forget the day for all the right reasons.

I was right to take a chance…

 

 

Jayne Seagrave is a BC Best selling Author. The ninth edition of her book Camping British Columbia, the Rockies and the Yukon was published by Heritage House in April 2023. Over 60,000 of her camping books have been sold. She also writes fiction, non-fiction, freelance articles and occasionally teaches writing and publishing.