Everywhere I go, I hear Robin Williams screaming this famous movie catch phrase as I pass restaurants, bars, and cafes all bearing its name. So far I’ve been through Ho Chi Minh, a beach town (Mui Ne), and the Central Highlands (Dulat), and so far, I am loving this country.

I made it through the Cambodian/Vietnamese border via bus without a hitch, and entered an entirely different landscape from what I had just passed through moments before in Cambodia. For one thing, the roads were smoother, and the lines on them freshly painted. The houses were not thatched, but concrete and brick, with a few garages and cars in the driveways. The neighborhoods were “thickly settled” (as they say in the Cape), with houses fairly close together. It was interesting to see such a drastic change so quickly.

A few of the travelers I had run into in Cambodia had said that Old Saigon wasn’t really worth the visit, and that I should just bust through it quickly and move on. However, I found it to be quite charming, and really enjoyed walking around and checking out the sights. Not to mention the fact that the tall buildings, neon lights, and countless classy bars had a calming affect on this LA-NYC girl.

My first night I tried the spring rolls (fabulous! just like at Trac and Huy’s legendary parties), then started walking from the backpacker district (Pham Ngu Lao) to one of the main down town centers (Dong Khoi). There I saw the capitol building impressively lit up with beautiful fountains out front, and happened across the Municipal Theatre in the center of town. The sign out front said, “Performances, 8pm, 4th of each month”. Just my luck. It was November 4th, at 8pm.

I took this as a sign, and went in to watch a 2 hour play/musical all in Vietnamese. I understood all but none of it, but got the central gyst, and enjoyed hearing the traditional music and singing. Live music poured out of the orchestra section, only a few rows in front of me.

From there, I walked back the way I came and ducked into a Jazz Bar. This really was some of the best jazz I have ever heard. The guy on the drums was out of this world. I had a cup of Vietnamese coffee, which I now crave (it’s very sweet), and stayed through 2 sets.

One fun experience… I got back to my hotel to take advantage of the free internet (backpacker’s dream), and as I was typing, noticed something moving out of the corner of my eye. I looked down to see one of the largest rats I have ever seen (NYC rats included) not 3 feet away scurrying towards my foot. I quickly jumped onto my seat as the hotel owner yelled and unleashed their viscious dog. The rat disappeared into the kitchen, and after that I tip-toed around the hotel searching constantly for any other lurking rodents.

The next day I walked and walked and walked all over the city. I went to the Reunification Palace, parts of which were amazingly frozen in time from the 1970’s Vietnam War era. Watched an amusing video from the Vietnamese perspective (obviously) on the “War of American Aggression”. The speaker had a tone that reminded me of dated war time videos I used to watch in school about the ”evil” Germans or  Russians. I couldn’t stop myself from giggling at a few of their descriptions (”America, being an overzealous and young country of 200 years, didn’t have the centuries of understanding of war that Vietnam did…”).

From there I went to the “Museum of American and Chinese War Crimes”, now called the “War Remnants Museum”. The front area was filled with old tanks, American fighter jets, and replicas of old Chinese torture chambers. Inside, the walls were covered with pictures and stories about the horrible atrocities of the Vietnam War… people burned beyond recognition by napalm and offspring grotesquely disfigured from Agent Orange. Acres and acres of beautiful countryside laid to ruin by toxic crop dusting. Hundreds of slaughtered women and children in bloody piles in quiet fields. Pictures of American soldiers in action doing horrible things to crying, pleading, unarmed villagers. After seeing this sickening display, I decided maybe they should have stuck with the original name of the museum.

After that depressing experience, I decided I needed a pick me up, so went bowling at an enormous shopping center. More than bowling, I enjoyed watching people get on and off the escalators. It was a very slow, carefully executed, precise and solemn activity. I got a few strange looks as I quickly glided on and off the moving staircase.

I then went to a very nice dinner at an upscale restaurant with white linen table cloths and live, traditional music. I ate dinner by candlelight with very professional and serious servers hovering around me. That set me back about six bucks.

The next day I took off for Mui Ne, a beautiful 12 mile stretch of white sandy beaches. I got off the bus, booked my hotel (Red Sands, right on the beach and a good value close to all the “action”, of the action there is to be had in Mui Ne, that is), and went immediately to a travel agent to book a tour to the famed giant sand dunes.

An hour later I was riding in a jeep with a 73 year old woman from Australia. Despite a hip operation and being told by the tour operators that there wouldn’t be much walking, she gingerly hiked along a 1 kilometer trail to a waterfall, crawling over rocks and sinking into “quick sand”. I was horrified, but she had one of the best attitudes I’ve ever seen and ‘took it all in stride’. We checked out the enormous sand dunes, which I was able to go sledding down with the help of a local 12 year old boy (for a small fee, of course). From there we went to a red canyon and a fishing village before heading home.

That night, after a great fresh fish dinner, I spotted Brad and Ville, an Australian and a Finnish guy I had met in Sihanoukville back in Cambodia. We decided to go check out a bar down the road. It was a great place, with good music, big wooden tables, and beanbags down on the beach. We met 3 Swedish girls there, and the 6 of us hung out until 2am.

Because I refuse to get on a motorbike (I am paying DEARLY for this in SE Asia, it being the main mode of transportation), all of my new friends walked me 10 minutes back to my place. Motorbike drivers had been waiting for folks as we left the bar, and since everyone’s hotels were much further down than mine, 4 motorbike drivers followed slowly beside us in the street as we walked down the sidewalk. I felt a little ridiculous, but had to laugh at the sight. Once at my hotel, everyone jumped on the back of the motos and headed back to their hotels.

The next morning, I set off for Dalat… in what turned out to be a land version of “Gilligan’s Boat Ride”…