Vietnam: Saigon and the Mekong Delta (2026)

 

 

I returned to Vietnam with a sense of expectation. I had read and heard stories of how fast it was developing, and how Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) in particular had become a vibrant and buzzing capital. It is in part true, but Saigon is still littered with pockets of poverty. You don’t have to walk far to see people whose life is a hand-to-mouth affair, and where the stench of rotting waste makes you hold your breath, and piles of garbage collect on street corners and back lanes.

The first sense you get of a country still languishing in the past is at the airport. The arrival process is a shambles and the on arrival visa circus has been borrowed from the Indian chaos experts to the west! If you have been lucky enough to discover one of the several companies online who will fast track your visa process (for around US$40) it only takes about 45 minutes, and you can sit back and joyfully watch queues of people jockeying for position at the visa counter. Mayhem.

Saigon’s Tan Son Nhat airport is about 8 kms from the centre of Saigon and the taxi journey took about 45 minutes. As with so many Asian cities, traffic in Saigon is a major problem, and the number of motorbikes has clearly grown as the city has grown. In any Vietnamese town or city of any size crossing the road involves negotiating a flood of motorbikes who will only slow down if you walk out on to the road and make it clear that you want to cross. They DO slow down, or swerve around you, but it is unnerving the first few times.

The relative cool of the evenings are the best time to appreciate the buzz of the new Saigon. Groups of happy young people move through the streets and open public areas in groups or couples, and many buildings are lit up with neon. The taller skyscrapers in fact become screens for giant light shows and constantly shape-shift from one scene to another as they do on the Dubai marina or the Ginza in Tokyo. The nights felt warm with promise but hide many secrets that the daylight cannot conceal.

I thought I would stay longer in Saigon but I had the feeling that I had seen the best of it, or at least the crowds and intensity weren’t worth the effort, so I scampered off to Can Tho in the delta region – a part of Vietnam I hadn’t been to on previous visits.

I took a private taxi to Can Tho – a delightful luxury. My 30 something driver and I chatted with the help of Google Translate with a modicum of success. I was able to tell him about my ESL teaching had resulted in close contact with many Vietnamese people. As ‘the American War’ and its aftermath had occurred long before he was born I felt like I had given him something of a history lesson. He didn’t seem to mind, and in fact seemed to quite enjoy it. A bonus on this ride was that this young man only played traditional Vietnamese folk music on his car stereo so the 2.5 hour journey played out with a wonderful authentic soundtrack.

Can Tho turned out to be much larger than expected. It has a population of roughly one million – just a bit smaller than Adelaide. It’s situated on the junction of the Hau and Can Tho rivers so sees a lot of river traffic. Big barges similar to those which make their way up and down the major European rivers passed by all day long.

Can Tho is also the jumping off point for those who want to visit Vietnam’s most famous floating market but …… it involves a 5.15 am departure and I decided I’d rather sleep in and enjoy the amazing buffet breakfast at the Sheraton. I figured I’d be able to organise some kind of boat journey from the many boatmen around the town wharf but that didn’t work out. In this case the translation software was a complete flop. And no one was interested in giving me a boat ride unless I was part of a tour, or charging me as if I were 2 people. (In Luang Prabang in Laos one could simply approach a boatman by the river and arrange a boat ride at a reasonable price but it wasn’t the case here.) It was disappointing but I thought I might do better in a smaller town. That turned out to be the case but I did enjoy a couple of long walks along the river fronts in Can Tho. Just away from the riverfront on one of these walks I think I saw a dog on a spit!

My next port of call was Ben Tre, a much smaller delta town. As soon as I got there I knew the decision to come here was a good one. A much smaller town. It felt rural. All strung out along the Ben Tre River. I stayed in a huge hotel room with a wonderful 10th floor view for about $50/night. The hotel itself seemed an anomaly for such a small town but it apparently gets a lot of visitors in peak season – mostly locals from Saigon looking for a delta break.

I was able to negotiate a boat trip for the next day at a reasonable price – something I was unable to achieve in Can Tho. So at a very civilized hour my guide met me in the lobby and we made our way to the riverfront. It was low tide time so it meant treading carefully through several metres of mud before heading off for several hours of very cruisy river travel.

We began in the Ben Tre river which was probably a couple of hundred metres wide. About 40  minutes later we arrived at a small brick factory which was made more interesting by the fact that I wasn’t expected to buy anything.  We turned into a smaller river at a large water junction and stopped at a place where they made coconut candy. I would have been quite happy to buy some of the product after I watched how it was made (quite a tedious and labour intensive process actually) but I was then whisked off to other parts of quite a large shop that sold a range of every imaginable product made from coconut – bowls, cutlery, animal carvings etc. Of course I bought nothing of these (I’d just to have to carry them home!) and it felt a little awkward as it always does.

The shop also had a number of those exquisite treats you find in many Asian markets: bottles containing liquid and various unlikely marinated creatures; crickets, frogs, snakes. I was asked if I’d like to try one of these potions – some alcohol infused with cobra (very good for older people I was told) and I politely refused. A voice behind me said I should taste it and said it tasted just like whisky. The guy and his female partner were obviously Vietnamese Australians and I trusted them I guess so yes I took a sip or two. And yes it did taste just like whisky.

The next port of call was a little more embarrassing as I had to watch a couple of local weavers again with the hope that I might buy some of their wares. It would have been easier had I been part of a group but they were doing their weaving routine just for me. I tried to be appreciative and grateful. I learned later that during the day they will have large groups of people come through so I at least knew then they would quite likely sell quite a bit across the day.

I had one more embarrassment to endure before we returned to Ben Tre but first we entered an even smaller channel and disembarked in a village and changed modes of transport. A short 20 minute ride in the Vietnamese version of a tuk-tuk took us deep into the jungle to places you’d never find on your own. I had a few flashbacks to my time in Sri Lanka where Louise and I were fortunate enough to know people who lived well off the beaten tracks and welcomed us into their humble homes. I had forgotten what a privilege that whole time in Weligama had been; experiencing life at a very basic level just as local people did. I laughed when we got out of the tuk-tuk because even though it felt like we were now deep into delta jungle territory there was a sign saying ‘Shop’! Across from the ‘shop’ was a small hut with the name of the tour company my boatman and guide from Ben Tre worked for.  Behind the hut was a wobbly rickety ramp leading down into a yet narrower channel with some canoe like boats moored on the water.

From here we (or at least our boatwoman did) paddled slowly down narrow channels overhung with arched palm trees. It felt like a cathedral of palms. So quiet, calm, and relatively cool in total shade. An even stronger feeling of being in a very strange and wondrous place for someone who lives in a city far away. So close to nature and the elements, and beholden to a life where you must hold them in great respect. Definitely the highlight of the day and an intimate experience of what it means to live in a delta where it’s only metres to the next waterway; as if the whole thing floats on a waterbed.

Coming out of this dream-like trance I was to face one further significant embarrassment. My guide had referred to having a stop at a restaurant before heading back to Ben Tre. I imagined a cool drink, coffee and a snack. Perfect for 11.00 am. But no, I was seated at a fully set table that was clearly ready for a full-on meal. And the first of several courses began to arrive. I protested and said I wasn’t hungry but still this large beautifully presented cooked river fish was put in front of me. Nothing I said could stop the food coming. I kept saying this would be wasted but tried some of the fish to be polite and pretended to be at least a little hungry. The local river fish delicacy was in fact quite underwhelming: looked great but tasted quite bland.

To save myself from more embarrassment and perhaps stop more food from coming I got up from the table and went and waited down by the river where our boat was moored. Someone chased after me and wanted money for the coffee I’d had – I thought it would be included in the price of the tour.....

In the boat on the way back the guide me told me he has asked the hotel where I was staying if lunch should be included and they’d told him yes. (I had specifically told them the day before that I did not want lunch. It was an optional extra.) So there were some crossed wires somewhere. I realised while talking to him that he would be the one who’d cop the expense if I refused to pay for the lunch. I decided to pay for it because it did seem like an honest misunderstanding. He was happy about that – he clearly appreciated it.

However, back at the hotel a quite spirited discussion broke out between the reception staff and the guide about who was to blame for the mix up. I kept out of it. I was still glowing from the wonderful four hours we’d spent on the river that morning and didn’t want to pursue it anymore. In a final note of pure class the guy on duty at reception later said he had heard me say the day before that I did not want lunch on the tour and refunded that amount off my hotel bill. That is looking after the customer!

While sitting on the ninth floor of this gorgeous hotel room later that day gazing out across the delta I started reading a book I’d brought from home about the impact of foreign wars on Vietnamese life, and it wasn’t long before I was in tears. Vietnam has a ridiculously long history of wars against foreign invaders. The Chinese, Mongols, the French, and Americans have all had a go at ruling Vietnam but were all eventually defeated and had departed. The Americans and their allies were the most recent on this list of the vanquished. And that of course included us – Australians. We contributed to the unnecessary hell of the Vietnamese people for 13 years (1962-75) – mass bombings, napalm and constant warfare. I just felt sad and guilty sitting there knowing that my country had been part of that madness. But the Vietnamese people bear no grudges it would seem, and I have never felt anything but very welcome in their country.

On my final morning in Ben Tre I went for a long walk to the edge of town where I found large roundabouts with almost no traffic (yes it was possible to find somewhere in Vietnam with almost no traffic!) – and back along the river through quiet neighbourhoods that felt quite mellow.

My final leg of this brief journey was back to Saigon airport. The first stages of this drive went quite smoothly but the final hour involved inching our way through impossibly crowded Saigon streets until we were suddenly at the airport.

With a sense of relief and some sadness I waited in the lounge glad to be out of the heat and the chaos, but a little weighed down by the thought that maybe this was my last time in SE Asia. It gets harder each time; I feel the tropical heat more keenly each time and it’s slowing me down. I don’t like to think that it could be the last time, but I have to accept that may be the case. I love it – always have. The smells, the chaos, the beauty, the smiles, and the wonderful feeling that wherever you go in SE Asia you are welcome. Apart from my shock introduction to it as a 19 year old, I have always felt very at home there.

However, in terms of my initial expectations of economic progress and improved standards of living this trip was a bit of a let down. Despite currently being rated one of the fastest growing economies on the planet Vietnam still has a long way to go before all its people live free of squalor.

 

 

The Housewarming - Theatre Review

 

The Housewarming
Goodwood Theatre and Studios
Tuesday, April 28

Four years is a long time not to see a friend; long enough for that friend to change quite a bit. So when Steph (Emelia Williams) tells her old friend Phoebe (Virginia Blackwell) that she’s changed, she’s probably right. And sometimes it takes others to help us recognize that change in ourselves. However, it’s the accusatory tone of Steph’s statement that throws Phoebe off guard, and sets the tone for an awkward social get together with these two old friends and their male companions. Phoebe has moved in with Nick (Daniel Fryar-Calabro) - her new man, and Steph is now with Michael (Chris Gun), an old flame of Phoebe’s.

It is immediately obvious that this housewarming party is going to be a fraught affair.  These four quite different characters don’t exactly warm to each other, and they are all quite willing to express opinions that challenge the others. Add rocky relationships and truth serum (alcohol) to the mix and things get really interesting.

We have all found ourselves in social situations we don’t enjoy. Faced with opinions and values quite different from your own world view you need to find a way to behave with decorum.  Most of us have been in relationships where we’re not quite sure if s/he is the one but we present publicly as if it’s rock solid, as if s/he is the one. This is where our housewarming guests find themselves.

Virginia Blackwell does a great job as Phoebe. Poor Phoebe is desperate for the party to be a success – she needs validation on so many levels, including her Instagram followers. Fryar-Calabro’s Nick is quite scary. He’s a tightly wound ball of insecure nervous energy that you feel could go off at any moment. And does. Hapless Michael is doing his Ph.D but struggles with alcohol and a lack of self-esteem, and dowdy Steph is sitting on a secret she has trouble sharing.

It’s an entertaining mix. Traverse seating means the audience is close to the action; right there at the party. It was tempting to get involved! The four characters capably play out a realistic scenario that reminds us of awkward situations we’ve all experienced in our own lives. Dialogue is rich and varied and punctuated with a good many natural pauses that add an authentic feel to the interactions.

Outbursts of sudden anger sometimes made it difficult to hear what was being said. And there didn’t appear to be any degrees of anger – it would go from calm to explosive with nowhere in between.

An enjoyable show. Loved the fact that it’s Adelaide based – “do you want to be a Burnside mum before you’re 30?”

Written and directed by James Watson.

 

Cathedral Chiaroscuro

Chiaroscuro is an Italian term used to describe art works that contrast light and dark. Cathedral Chiaroscuro uses Adelaide’s Francis Xavier Cathedral as a canvas to play out its colourful dance.

Immersive sound and light shows have become quite a thing in recent times and it’s getting harder to be impressed, but seeing beams of colour projected on to a Gothic Chruch’s internal architecture takes it new heights. If nothing else, Cathedral Chiaroscuro helps you realise what remarkable buildings such churches are. If you can rid yourself of the distasteful associations associated with Christianity and just focus on the power and grandeur of the architecture you will enjoy this event. The rows of columns supporting tall arches, the stained glass imagery above the altar, and the Tudor style woodwork on the ceilings are all brought into sharp focus with ever changing colour schemes.

What was especially impressive was the precision and accuracy of the projections. The rounded edges of the arches for example would be shown in one colour, and the adjacent surface in another complementary tone. It must be weeks, perhaps longer, in the making. The projections are not generic; they are specific to the dimensions of this church!

Cathedral Chiaroscuro is about contemplation and reflection. One’s mind wanders off trying to make connections between the colours and the metaphorical imagery. It’s a very personal and subjective experience. The reflective mood is aided by a series of audio tracks that mostly feature religious choral music. Unfortunately there was no information made available about the pieces of music played.

It would have been nice to have a further 5 or 10 minutes for more personal reflection after the event but we were hustled out immediately after the show to make way for the next group queuing at the front door. It felt rushed and it shouldn’t.

Still, it’s fine way to spend 25 minutes. I think my favourite was the projection that turned the whole cathedral into a garden with flowers and flowing vines.

WOMADelaide 2026 - Day 1 (Friday, March 6th)

 

THE BEGINNINNG

The gates opened right on 4.00 pm and the small queue filed in. Some early risers among the bats were already hovering above the Frome Rd entrance. A right turn into the new market strip and a left run into the park proper and there are the flags: the Angus Watt flags – still heralding  the arrival of WOMADelaide after 30 plus years.

Those who know said it was clear that crowds were well down on this same time last year, and we all guessed why but no one really knew. Regulars found their favourite spots, got that early coffee before the rush, and set up base somewhere among the trees. Old friends and family meet up – some haven’t seen other since the last time they were at WOMAD.

The weather is perfect and WOMADelaide is already working its magic. Changes to the program due to the shenanigans in the Middle East meant the traditional welcome to country ceremony was delayed by an hour and shifted to stage 2.

Welcomes to country often feel clunky and unnecessary, but when seated on the ground, on actual Kaurna ground, it makes more sense. You can feel the earth beneath you. And Jamie Goldmsith’s welcome was one of the best. We’re not welcoming Australians to their own country, he said. This is about strengthening the connections between us and with the land. We’re really just saying, “It’s good that you’re here.”

THE MUSIC

Stage 3 kicked off with La Perla, a 3 women group from Columbia. All three play various percussion instruments and consequently, and what is always the case with Latin music, it’s all about rhythm. All three had strong voices and were often at full voice together. It sounded and felt a little tribal. Other almost acapella numbers offered beautiful contrast. I particularly enjoyed the playing of the bass hand drum – it had the effect of  a bass guitar part that kept the pulse and simultaneously added a melodic tone to the percussion.

Ashkan Shafiei and Band launched the weekend’s program on the Zoo stage. Ashkan is from Iran but is now based in Sydney. I’m sure everybody was aware of the global events casting shadows over his country but it was politely ignored. He said simply, “It’s good to be here.” The program notes say their sound is influenced by music heard in the Tehran of 60s and 70s (when Iran was a very different place); they don’t sound much like the more traditional groups that play music based on Persian folk culture. This is a much more modern sound – very jazz influenced. Many of the melodies are brass led (trumpet, saxophone), and together with congas the combined effect gave the music something of a Latin feel. By show’s end many were up and dancing. There was one traditional instrument featured, played by Ashkan - the rubab. Interestingly it was more used as a percussion instrument. It unfortunately also got a bit lost in the mix when the whole band was playing.

A brother and sister from India, Balaganesan and Bageswari, were first up in the Frome Park Pavilion playing the nadaswaram, a double reed wind instrument.  This was pure traditional music unadulterated by any modern influences, and as such could be fairly described as an acquired taste. Think the sound of the pipe that snake charmers make when mesmerising cobras and you’re somewhere near the mark. But this brother and sister team are virtuosos on their instrument, and play long complex pieces typical of so much Indian classical music. The music was all instrumental and I imagine is used for ceremonial or religious purposes. But as there was no information shared by the artists one can’t be sure. I really enjoyed it. It reminded me of WOMADelaide’s early days before World Music, ironically, became globalized.

Xylourides

I was going next to see Beoga (from Ireland) back on stage 3  but as can happen as you wander through the WOMAD park your ears and soul are led elsewhere and I found myself sitting at the Moreton Bay Stage totally engaged by the music of Xylourides from Crete. Their music is magical. Instruments featured are the Cretan lute (laouto), a Cretan lyra (an upright fiddle instrument played with a bow), and hand drum percussion. The lyra was often featured as the lead solo instrument. The vocal melodies are soulful, tuneful, and sometimes trance like. They play both fast and slow and have managed to bring traditional Cretan folk music to an adoring modern audience. They certainly won me over.

I continued on my trek back to stage 3 to catch a little of Beoga but alas – impossible! This may have been a programming error. It seems someone underestimated their popularity – this may well have been the biggest crowd ever seen at stage 3 and by the time I got there Beoga were tiny figures way off in the distance behind the trees and a sea of heads. They should have been playing the main stage.

On my way towards the exit there was a large crowd gathered in the Frome Park Pavilion for Ganna’s only Womadelaide’s performance. Ganna is from Ukraine and is one of a new breed of musicians who have learned that modern musical technology means you don’t need a band. She sounds like a band. Looking and sounding decidedly ethereal she employs looped electronica to wash over her audience and carry her angelic vocals out across the park. When she issued a call to dance hundreds responded by moving to the front of the venue to get more physical with the music. Others sat on chairs down the back and let her heavenly sounds add to the bewitching charms of WOMADelaide at night.

CLOSE

WOMADelaide is still a remarkable event. It still has a magic that has made it one of Adelaide’s precious trademarks. It still draws young and old. And as I made my way toward the exit the now illuminated market strip with its multi-coloured ceiling ribbons made me feel like I could be somewhere in South-East Asia, but no, it’s Adelaide. Gorgeous Adelaide.

 

Harry Manx Review

The Guv, March 2nd, 2026

It was worth the wait. However, leaving your audience hanging for an hour with no communication is poor form. No matter what the reason, it’s not good enough. One hour after the advertised start time Harry Manx appeared on stage.

I remembered seeing Harry play at a small folk club way back when he was a much younger man. I remember really enjoying it so thought I’d take another look and I’m so glad I did. About a minute into his first song I was in his groove. Tapping my feet and gently rocking to a quiet, bluesy, insistent beat.

This time round Harry’s playing with a bass and drum beat backing track. The purist in me would rather it wasn’t there but it’s certainly effective and it allows Harry to be something of a one man band.

Harry Manx plays guitars – one in the traditional upright fashion, one as a lap steel instrument with lots of delicious slide, and his trademark – the Mohan Veena: a 20-string instrument that sounds like a cross between guitar and sitar. He spent 12 years in India, 5 years mastering the Mohan Veena. His music consequently is often described as a bridge between east and west. Tonight’s concert was more west than east, but any song played on the Mohan Veena has that telltale persistent drone beneath the melody – that’s partly why the instrument was invented – and it’s quite mesmeric.

Tonight’s repertoire was a mix of covers and originals – many of them chosen in answer to members of the audience calling out their preferences. But his covers get such distinctive treatment that it’s like hearing them for the first time anyway. Old standards like Long Black Veil, Spoonful, and Summertime for example.

Manx certainly took his time establishing his musical identity. He wrote his first song at the age of 46. I enjoyed the covers but the highlights were definitely his own material. There’s a melodic warmth and a bewitching, beautiful tone hidden in all those strings and it’s perfectly complemented by a vocal style that delivers short phrases that fit neatly into the catchy rhythms.

One day Harry Manx had writer’s block and went out walking. He came across a homeless guy he recognized from school days and they spent the day together. And a new song was born. This story speaks volumes about the man. He took the time to talk to this homeless guy when many would walk on by.

Harry Manx has taken the slow road; the road that takes time to work out what you want to say; what you want to play, and he’s now sharing the wonderful end result with rapt audiences. He definitely has his own sound but if you were to combine the music of JJ Cale, fellow Canadian Leo Kottke, and Ry Cooder you might come up with something very similar to the Manx sound, but you’d still need to add some eastern spice.

Mama Does Roller Derby

Adelaide Entertainment Centre

Sat 28 Feb, 2026

As we settled into our seats a group of 10 roller derby contestants were doing what looked like their pre-game workout: sometimes quite elegant stretching exercises as they cruised around the track, and sometimes very physical push and shove exercises that are all part of a roller derby event.

Maxine and her daughter Billie have arrived in a small town to begin a new life. They know little or nothing about the town and are initially very dependent on each other. In something of a role reversal Mum’s a bit sassy and looking for some action, while Billie is the home body.

Billie is interested in art but her attempts to contribute to the artistic outlook of the town earn her (and mum) a session with a counsellor. It’s a witty and humorous meeting, and for the first time we witness a wonderfully innovative approach to stage direction as mum and daughter and counsellor face each other on opposite couches.

From this point on we are treated to a dazzling display of choreography on wheels. The roller derby women (from the Adelaide Roller Derby League) are now a team of stage hands moving sets around and delivering props to their rightful places with astonishing timing and accuracy. In a blur of glorious, precise movements the stage is frequently reconfigured to adjust to the changing narrative while a live band provides dynamic musical complement. It’s a stunning combination.

Meanwhile, alone back in her bedroom, Billie is dealing with her own demons – literally and figuratively. The demon character (superbly played by Benjamin Hancock) that comes to life is one of the most fetching stage creatures you will ever see. Without giving too much away the exotic movements of this demonic creature are worth the price of admission alone. An extraordinary creation.

Maxine eventually joins the local roller derby circuit and we then get to see what full-on roller derby is all about. What a spectacle!

Mama Does Derby is a brilliant idea. It brings theatre to the people with all embracing physicality, wit, laughter, music and perceptive theatre. It might well result in an explosion of interest in roller derby and theatre for younger people. Innovation plus!

Written by Virginia Gay.
Directed by Clare Watson.

Earnest?

Earnest?
The Peacock at Gluttony
Sat 21 Feb, 2026

The stage is set and looking interesting. Two gentlemen enter the stage dressed appropriately for the late nineteenth century and after some initial banter welcome Earnest Worthington to the stage with some flourish. Several times. Alas however, there appears to be no Earnest. The star of the show is AWOL. So, there’s only one thing to do in such circumstances – use whatever resources you have at your disposal. And what do you typically find at live plays? Audiences of course!

Directors are normally invisible, safely hidden in the wings, but in this case the director has no choice but to face the audience, offer apologies, and ask for assistance. And there the fun begins.

Earnest? does more or less follow the plot of the famous Oscar Wilde play that the show is based on, but takes a few liberties with the order of events and the behaviours of some of the characters. This leads to some further awkward outcomes and suffice to say it is not just Earnest that needs replacing.

Consequently, a great deal of improvisation is part of the spectacle, placing enormous stress on the original cast and the poor beleagured stage hand who’s run off his feet cleaning up accidents and making sure props are all in the right place at the right time. He ends up quite the star!

Several very funny devices are employed to assist those new to the stage play their roles – I particularly liked the advice window where we were privy to a conversation between the new Earnest and a cast member giving him tips on how to act.

Liberal doses of slapstick keep things entertainingly silly, and just for once the slapstick doesn’t feel contrived. It feels absolutely essential to save the show!

Things get merrier and merrier, funnier and funnier, and somehow manage to stumble their way to a successful conclusion where cast and audience can share a feeling of great accomplishment.

Earnest? is a great idea, a very brave undertaking, and a really good laugh for all involved. I loved it.

It has to be 5 stars. What? 5 stars for people who’ve never performed before? That doesn’t make sense. Exactly!

This review also published on The Clothesline.