Vietnam - Cai Rang Floating Market
Solo girl in the Mekong Delta
“Boat rental lady? Out to markets lady?” It seemed that every five steps along Can Tho’s riverside promenade, I was being asked about what my transport requirements may be. I had come to this particular area of Vietnam specifically to check out the daily floating markets that trade their wares within the fingers of water that comprise the delta of the Mekong River.
Having read and heard a few stories about less than desirable business operators in this particular area, it was with a certain level of trepidation that I began my negotiations in earnest with a certain Mr. Triet. We discussed our ages and places of birth which is most helpful in determining whether his English is far superior to my Vietnamese (an indispensable requirement in my case). Suddenly another “gent” boldly interrupted the process and managed to almost scare off Mr. Triet. Since I have met a few scoundrel types through the years and in one case of very poor judgment actually married one – I seem to have acquired a spider like sense of when someone is full of a certain waste product. With the head ringing from that “flight” instinct in full force I continued to walk down the promenade looking for a better deal.
A few moments later Mr. Triet appeared by my side and laughed. I made some comment about slime and he laughed even harder, pointing to some long boats moored below us in the water and stating that these were part of his family’s fleet. My heart was saying this was an honest man and we sealed the deal alongside the floating flotilla. My $20 was swapped for his little piece of paper that stated “Warm service and the fair price”. He then ushered me back down the promenade to an empty space and said to be there at 0530hrs the next morning and that he would bring me some red bananas for breakfast.
Normally I never give out money for little pieces of paper from strangers in a town that is notorious for its crafty “communist” capitalists. However, as I retired back to quarters that evening I was not too concerned. There was something very genuine about Mr. Triet and I fell asleep with the dreams of cameras getting wet and Beanie falling into the Mekong.
Morning came with a start that only a 0430hr alarm can deliver. The travelling schedule had not been gruelling but I was at the point where after my fingers shot off the IPod alarm, that the next task was to remember a) where I am and b) why exactly was my alarm set? The former is not too much a challenge but the later can be rather confusing. Did I have to pack up and catch a bus/boat or train? Did I have to be somewhere to shoot a sunrise with only my camera gear on my back? The good news is in the countries of SE Asia everyone is up with the sun. Roosters, children, dogs and the sounds of horns beeping get one’s body moving up and “at it” effectively.
After a quick cold rinse to get the head clear and the blood pumping I headed out towards the Quay of Cho Tho. I can be anywhere on earth and always find that this is my favourite time of the day. There is something so special that the breaking dawn brings. A fresh new start, the promise of adventure, new people to meet and new discoveries to behold – it is all one’s choice how to approach it.
The brisk walk from my outlying hotel to the Quay clears the cob webs out and once again I wondered if I would even see Mr. Triet and my water chariot. The days light was just breaking into the horizon when I arrived at the predetermined pick up. Two boats were hitched up but no people around – suddenly from behind I hear a jovial “Good morning”. Turning I spot a glowing smile on my baseball cap attired guide complete with the promised red bananas and fresh baguettes (French colonialism left some wonderful traditions in this area of the world)!
Casting off at 0520hrs we head out into the morning throngs of boat traffic into the main channel of the river. Barges heaped with different soils, wooden fishing boats, single long boats overflowing with fresh produce and the extra large transports packed with fellow sleepy eyed tourists. All traffic headed with purpose to a destination of commerce.
Mr. Triet’s boat is slower than the big “bus type” Can Tho Tourist specials. As we plug along up the river the sun begins its climb into the sky that provides a canvas of color that only nature can paint. Boats pass by us and Mr. Triet exclaims out loud and points behind us to the stunning burst of red and orange that has made their morning appearance on the horizon.
Communication between us is stilted but he is most informative and I felt again the inadequacy of my own education and at the same time, my good fortune of at least being able to speak English.
Suddenly the channel narrows and there is a congestion of boat traffic of all sizes and shapes. I am informed that we are arriving at the world famous Cai Rang Floating Market. As we drift into the congregation of boats of various capacity loaded down with fresh food, it is pointed out to me that the staffs hovering above the vessels display the items on board. So if one is in the market for pineapples, simply look for a boat with pineapples displaying that product up the pole.
In many ways the floating market reminds me of the streets of Vietnam – whoever has the big ship rules the road. We found ourselves in a complete gridlock when suddenly from behind another small boat with two white guys as passenger’s steams full throttle into the mix. At the helm – a woman whom I distinctly remembered from earlier in the morning trying coerce me onto her boat. There was much shouting and laughter as she pushed her way through the crowd, but what made it even better was when Mr. Triet informed me that she was his sister! A family affair indeed.
The option was presented to travel further upstream and visit another market, but I was completely enjoying my time here. The bigger tourist boats overloaded with all mixes of race and cameras ploughed through the market and never even slowed down. Camera lens hung over the edge of them, with guides on speakers loudly shouting out what people were seeing. I made a request that we simply stay here and float back and forth a few times through the exchange.
In a matter of minutes a lady drifted up alongside our tender and offered iced coffee and cigarettes. I jumped all over the java and Mr. Triet purchased smokes as well. I shared an experience around the “local” bus ride I had the previous day from Chau Doc where the driver’s swamper had cigarettes taped to his body and ripped them off prior to arrival into Can Tho. It is interesting that we find a common ground between the power of the black market in his country due to the communist’s thumb and in my own country the illegal trade of the same products through our First Nations Tribes. After agreeing how feeble both efforts were in controlling anything we sat bobbing up and down as tourists and vendors steamed by on either side of our little boat. Without warning a finely crafted pineapple appeared in my face – the juices’ dripping off of it and Mr. Triet proudly offering the surprise to complete my breakfast on the Mekong. How fortunate I was to have found a guide whose smile and attitude was infectious to all around!
The market was beginning to dwindle so we headed off into a nearby channel that stepped deeper into the delta. Abruptly I found myself drifting through a jungle canopy of palm and mango trees dripping with fruit. The channels were narrow and the life abundant. Birds trilling, fish skipping and people waking up to the morning chores that these banks have witnessed for hundreds of years. A time machine lifted my little boat back to an era that one would think long gone when on the streets of the cities in the area. Just that easy – it could have been 1610 or 2010, simply hard to comprehend that two worlds can coexist so close in proximity.
I never imagined even ten years ago that I would be venturing into worlds like this where I have the honour of meeting a Mr. Triet, of tasting fresh pineapple on a little old wooden boat in the Mekong Delta, of seeing a child’s face light up when they see a wacky Canadian woman with her little stuffed dog waving and smiling at them – of learning to trust and have faith in all the good that humanity has to offer.
Can I ever really describe how blessed this life can be if one only opens one's self to embrace it?
Peace and safe journeys – wherever you find yourself on this little rock we call home
Read More“Boat rental lady? Out to markets lady?” It seemed that every five steps along Can Tho’s riverside promenade, I was being asked about what my transport requirements may be. I had come to this particular area of Vietnam specifically to check out the daily floating markets that trade their wares within the fingers of water that comprise the delta of the Mekong River.
Having read and heard a few stories about less than desirable business operators in this particular area, it was with a certain level of trepidation that I began my negotiations in earnest with a certain Mr. Triet. We discussed our ages and places of birth which is most helpful in determining whether his English is far superior to my Vietnamese (an indispensable requirement in my case). Suddenly another “gent” boldly interrupted the process and managed to almost scare off Mr. Triet. Since I have met a few scoundrel types through the years and in one case of very poor judgment actually married one – I seem to have acquired a spider like sense of when someone is full of a certain waste product. With the head ringing from that “flight” instinct in full force I continued to walk down the promenade looking for a better deal.
A few moments later Mr. Triet appeared by my side and laughed. I made some comment about slime and he laughed even harder, pointing to some long boats moored below us in the water and stating that these were part of his family’s fleet. My heart was saying this was an honest man and we sealed the deal alongside the floating flotilla. My $20 was swapped for his little piece of paper that stated “Warm service and the fair price”. He then ushered me back down the promenade to an empty space and said to be there at 0530hrs the next morning and that he would bring me some red bananas for breakfast.
Normally I never give out money for little pieces of paper from strangers in a town that is notorious for its crafty “communist” capitalists. However, as I retired back to quarters that evening I was not too concerned. There was something very genuine about Mr. Triet and I fell asleep with the dreams of cameras getting wet and Beanie falling into the Mekong.
Morning came with a start that only a 0430hr alarm can deliver. The travelling schedule had not been gruelling but I was at the point where after my fingers shot off the IPod alarm, that the next task was to remember a) where I am and b) why exactly was my alarm set? The former is not too much a challenge but the later can be rather confusing. Did I have to pack up and catch a bus/boat or train? Did I have to be somewhere to shoot a sunrise with only my camera gear on my back? The good news is in the countries of SE Asia everyone is up with the sun. Roosters, children, dogs and the sounds of horns beeping get one’s body moving up and “at it” effectively.
After a quick cold rinse to get the head clear and the blood pumping I headed out towards the Quay of Cho Tho. I can be anywhere on earth and always find that this is my favourite time of the day. There is something so special that the breaking dawn brings. A fresh new start, the promise of adventure, new people to meet and new discoveries to behold – it is all one’s choice how to approach it.
The brisk walk from my outlying hotel to the Quay clears the cob webs out and once again I wondered if I would even see Mr. Triet and my water chariot. The days light was just breaking into the horizon when I arrived at the predetermined pick up. Two boats were hitched up but no people around – suddenly from behind I hear a jovial “Good morning”. Turning I spot a glowing smile on my baseball cap attired guide complete with the promised red bananas and fresh baguettes (French colonialism left some wonderful traditions in this area of the world)!
Casting off at 0520hrs we head out into the morning throngs of boat traffic into the main channel of the river. Barges heaped with different soils, wooden fishing boats, single long boats overflowing with fresh produce and the extra large transports packed with fellow sleepy eyed tourists. All traffic headed with purpose to a destination of commerce.
Mr. Triet’s boat is slower than the big “bus type” Can Tho Tourist specials. As we plug along up the river the sun begins its climb into the sky that provides a canvas of color that only nature can paint. Boats pass by us and Mr. Triet exclaims out loud and points behind us to the stunning burst of red and orange that has made their morning appearance on the horizon.
Communication between us is stilted but he is most informative and I felt again the inadequacy of my own education and at the same time, my good fortune of at least being able to speak English.
Suddenly the channel narrows and there is a congestion of boat traffic of all sizes and shapes. I am informed that we are arriving at the world famous Cai Rang Floating Market. As we drift into the congregation of boats of various capacity loaded down with fresh food, it is pointed out to me that the staffs hovering above the vessels display the items on board. So if one is in the market for pineapples, simply look for a boat with pineapples displaying that product up the pole.
In many ways the floating market reminds me of the streets of Vietnam – whoever has the big ship rules the road. We found ourselves in a complete gridlock when suddenly from behind another small boat with two white guys as passenger’s steams full throttle into the mix. At the helm – a woman whom I distinctly remembered from earlier in the morning trying coerce me onto her boat. There was much shouting and laughter as she pushed her way through the crowd, but what made it even better was when Mr. Triet informed me that she was his sister! A family affair indeed.
The option was presented to travel further upstream and visit another market, but I was completely enjoying my time here. The bigger tourist boats overloaded with all mixes of race and cameras ploughed through the market and never even slowed down. Camera lens hung over the edge of them, with guides on speakers loudly shouting out what people were seeing. I made a request that we simply stay here and float back and forth a few times through the exchange.
In a matter of minutes a lady drifted up alongside our tender and offered iced coffee and cigarettes. I jumped all over the java and Mr. Triet purchased smokes as well. I shared an experience around the “local” bus ride I had the previous day from Chau Doc where the driver’s swamper had cigarettes taped to his body and ripped them off prior to arrival into Can Tho. It is interesting that we find a common ground between the power of the black market in his country due to the communist’s thumb and in my own country the illegal trade of the same products through our First Nations Tribes. After agreeing how feeble both efforts were in controlling anything we sat bobbing up and down as tourists and vendors steamed by on either side of our little boat. Without warning a finely crafted pineapple appeared in my face – the juices’ dripping off of it and Mr. Triet proudly offering the surprise to complete my breakfast on the Mekong. How fortunate I was to have found a guide whose smile and attitude was infectious to all around!
The market was beginning to dwindle so we headed off into a nearby channel that stepped deeper into the delta. Abruptly I found myself drifting through a jungle canopy of palm and mango trees dripping with fruit. The channels were narrow and the life abundant. Birds trilling, fish skipping and people waking up to the morning chores that these banks have witnessed for hundreds of years. A time machine lifted my little boat back to an era that one would think long gone when on the streets of the cities in the area. Just that easy – it could have been 1610 or 2010, simply hard to comprehend that two worlds can coexist so close in proximity.
I never imagined even ten years ago that I would be venturing into worlds like this where I have the honour of meeting a Mr. Triet, of tasting fresh pineapple on a little old wooden boat in the Mekong Delta, of seeing a child’s face light up when they see a wacky Canadian woman with her little stuffed dog waving and smiling at them – of learning to trust and have faith in all the good that humanity has to offer.
Can I ever really describe how blessed this life can be if one only opens one's self to embrace it?
Peace and safe journeys – wherever you find yourself on this little rock we call home
