Deep into the bleeding heart of Ben Tre
I knew little about the various provinces throughout the Mekong Delta, Vietnam, but any student of American history will have heard about Ben Tre province at one point during their education. This was the province that an American major referred to in what has become one of the more memorable demonstrations of how the war effort had gone completely to the dogs: “We had to destroy Ben Tre in order to save it.”
Ben Tre is removed from the tourist path, but I was drawn for two reasons: first, to appreciate its historical importance in both American and Vietnamese history, and second, to appreciate its unparalleled beauty, deriving in part from its total seclusion from the beaten path. Those who do make it to Ben Tre typically only explore the tourist trap areas around the edges of certain islands and don’t venture into town, or deeper into the canals surrounding the islands comprising the province. I was determined to do both. But again, I had to get there first.
Ben Tre is in the east of the Mekong Delta, roughly en route between Can Tho and Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon. It’s accessible via the town of My Tho, where all the minibuses pass through. Once in My Tho, I could theoretically catch the ferry to Ben Tre, and somehow find a place to stay for the night. Because it’s so far off the tourist path, none of my guidebook resources gave any details about the town itself—hotels, restaurants, anything, but I had faith.
Only rarely did we come across someone else using the canal network
Once in My Tho I found a motorbike driver who I thought understood that I wanted to go to the ferry for Ben Tre. With my Vietnamese still very much in its terrible stages, I relied on pointing to various phrases in my guidebook—“boat” and “Ben Tre.” I thought she understood until she pulled over to ask a friend how to get to Ben Tre. As it turns out this friend ran tours through the Ben Tre canals, so I took his card for later. 20 minutes later I was driven straight to a hotel in Ben Tre, no ferry needed. I seem to have a lucky charm permanently adorned to my being.
With my limited Vietnamese (and phrasebook) I managed to secure a room and a map and set out to explore and find some food. From the minute I stepped out I felt the stares—literally every adult turned to look at me as I passed, and I smiled in acknowledgment, yes I’m a stranger in a town that receives few westerners. The children I passed all smiled and said hello; I had a brief exchange with a pair of girls walking laps around the large pond in a central square. Ben Tre, more than the previous two Delta towns I’d visited, has a much stronger governmental presence—the red national flag, as well as red drapings of the hammer and sickle, lined every street in the main area, and roundabouts had large five-point stars carefully shaped into the hedges. Large megaphones on the light posts broadcasted political and international news, and could be heard from everywhere.
I'd never seen palm fronds like these--they form a wall of jungle surrounding the canals
I struggled to find dinner that night—I walked into several shops that looked like restaurants, or had the telling “pho” sign posted outside—only to be turned away. When I approached two young women in a pho shop they giggled at our mutual inability to communicate. No one I encountered spoke more than two words of English, but why would they? With few outside visitors, there was little need to. I was literally the only westerner I saw the entire time I was in town.
I set up a boat tour with Mr. Nguyen, whose card I had received earlier. Via text message, we negotiated an itinerary and price. He picked me up on his motorbike the next morning and drove me through town to where his boat was moored. My guide was his sister, a kind, middle-aged woman with limited command of English. From what I gathered we would cruise around the various islands—all with exotic names like Unicorn, Dragon, or Tortoise—visiting orchards and coconut candy makers. I really had no idea what to expect.
Watching the sweet goodness of coconut candy being prepared
Immediately I was taken deep into the backest of backwaters around Ben Tre. Besides the engine noise, the silence was engulfing. Muddy, deep brown water swirled beneath our boat as we made our way slowly through the maze. Tall palm fronds rose on either side of the narrow canal. Somewhere the unmistakable smell of marijuana wafted through the trees—the only sign that we weren’t alone. I felt completely isolated; cut off from anything resembling civilization. We came across a man bathing, and I was completely startled—I didn’t see him until he was right next to the boat. He looked at us impassively, his age-worn face not even registering strangers interrupting his bath. An eerie feeling came over me—this is exactly what the American soldiers fighting here would have seen and felt. It would have been terrifying being dropped here—anything could have been just beyond the fronds. Their thickness was such that you couldn’t see far into the surrounding jungle, though I did pass what was unmistakably a burial ground, the ornate and colorful tombs juxtaposing brightly against the dense green of the forest. It was worlds away from anything I’d experienced in Vietnam thus far, indeed anything I’d experienced in my life.
I had to buy a couple of these guys to take home--too cute to pass up
We left the backwaters to moor at a small village. I was instructed to walk through (“You go walk, 30 minutes”), but I wasn’t too sure what I would find. A small path led along the river and I passed houses—some were large, built in the beautiful, traditional Vietnamese architectural manner; others were very basic, constructed from wooden planks. Children cycled past, dogs lazed in the heat, chickens scratched for food, people swung in hammocks. It was sleepy and peaceful. Again, I can’t imagine that many westerners would have been able to have a self-guided tour of a village like this one.
From there we completed the rest of the tourist circuit—visiting crocodile and bee farms, sampling the wares at Ben Tre’s famous coconut candy making facilities, being shuttled from stall to stall selling craft items. I was glad I was able to get away from the tourist track for the first part of the day; cruising those deserted canals is something that will stick with me for some time. And the coconut candy, well, I’m sure there’ll be a bit left to share with my family if I ever decide to leave this place.
To organize a tour with Mr. Nguyen, like the one I did, he can be reached by mobile phone at 0908 231 474 or 0904 989 463. Tours can start in either Ben Tre or My Tho.
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Great Blog Post Anna!
Yes, said family is awaiting some tasty coconut candy.
This whole series of stories has been remarkable!