Well we got back from our Cambodia / Vietnam adventure yesterday and as is the case with most holidays, the glow wore off about half a day after returning as the memories sunk inexorably into the past. We were jolted back to reality after the child bride went to pick up the cats who had resided at the cat motel for the past two weeks. Almost immediately there was a territorial stand-off between Charlie the dog and Kaos the cat and we woke this morning to a fir ball on a rug (not on the wooden floor of course) and something disgusting in the litter tray.

Oh to still be sitting in the Game On Bar in Saigon watching the NRL or the AFL or the rugby or the EPL of the boxing or the racing or the golf – TV’s showing sport everywhere you looked, local girls in tight shirts serving ice-cold beer and pub-food that doesn’t look back at you. We managed to get there twice in two days.

The first day in Saigon we explored a local market. Imagine the Baywatch girls, in beach uniform, attending a maximum security prison. That was the rather aggressive, noisy and touchy/feely attention a westerner generates in that place. It is rather intimidating but we managed to get out with the required shirts and dresses albeit with the wallet a little lighter and the bargaining voice a little hoarser than the parallel experience in Cambodia. Not to worry because it was only a 10 minute walk to Game On which was only a two minute walk from the tallest building in the country which had a viewing platform and……a bar.

Met up with our four Victorian mates in Game On and drifted from beer to beer for the rest of the day including dinner at a restaurant where a local entrepreneur (who was a boat person and made his money in Oz) ran a restaurant training street kids (chefs, front-of-house, waiters etc). The food was nothing like rat, very nice in fact and like the art school in Siem Reap, an admirable enterprise.

Day two in Saigon and we had to check out at twelve, and had our hotel transfers arranged at four. How to kill a few hours on a hot steamy afternoon? Here’s an idea, thought some genius. Let’s take a 10 minute, $3 cab ride to Game On. Done. And so the gentle transition back into Australian culture began.

Visiting developing Asia is a great and rewarding experience as long as you can experience most of it standing up rather than sitting down, if you get my drift.

Well it’s only one more day on the boat then off to Saigon tomorrow. And not a day too soon for some, I think. The last couple of days have been absolute carnage with this place now resembling the aftermath of the Alamo. This is not in any way, shape or form a criticism of the cruise company. They have been scrupulous in their adherence to safety and health standards.

The karaoke excesses of a couple of nights ago plus the accumulated impact of different foods and breathing different air, especially in the open markets, have taken their toll I think. I was a mess yesterday but am fine now. But I reckon if it was possible to harness the power generated by the simultaneous sphincter clench of 78 people, you could drive this boat from Saigon to Brisbane without refuelling.

The markets in the Mekong delta have to be seen to be believed. People shop twice a day because apart from a few random blocks of ice and the fact that most of the seafood and assorted reptiles and amphibians are still alive, everything is out in the open. However to spare the sensibilities of the more fragile brethren, the rats are skinned before being put on display.

Last night was concert night when the various ship departments put on a show for the guests. Watching a bunch of Vietnamese and Cambodians pretending to be The Village People and doing everyone’s favourite, YMCA, had to be seen to be believed although I’m not sure they all comprehended the significance of the arm movements.

And after that finished some of the guests who had “volunteered” the night before, had to get up and perform. Apparently I volunteered but I’m pretty sure I was volunteered. Had I been forewarned or at least been vaguely aware of what was coming, I could have prepared Not Garfunkel’s full repertoire. But my still alcohol fogged brain was only capable of a rendition of Hotel California on the only guitar on the ship. A Londoner got up and told a few jokes and as he warmed up, they got better and better if you know what I mean.

We are now wending our way to the last stop before leaving La Marguerite. I think it’s to see another bloody temple. Actually I can now see a massive bridge that I and a lot of other Australian taxpayers built about 10 years ago. I recognise it from last time we were here so we must be getting close to the end. The internet connection has been getting progressively better so it stands to reason.

Maybe one more travel blog to impose on you before we leave. We’ll see.