After the evening walk along the sea, with an endless selection of strangeness, unexpected and never-before-seen sights, it was getting late. But now another, albeit less pleasant, sight awaits me. And another hellish ride. I'm inevitably back on the road by six, once again with a heavy head and an empty stomach. Man...
The Mekong dissolves
“Il est cinq heures, Paris s'éveille”, one of Jacques Dutronc's timeless hits. It's a little later than 5 a.m. and instead of Paris, Saigon is waking up from its short sleep. (“Les travestis vont se raser, les stripteaseuses sont rhabillées”). Still tired from my short sleep, I lean against the wall while all around me...