Sam Mountain, An Giang Provence, Vietnam

Sam Mountain in the distance.

After an interesting breakfast where our order was lost in translation, we flagged down a moto-taxi to head toward our destination for the day. At first, he too didn't know what we were trying to tell him. Then I heard him say several times, “Nui Sam?”

“YES!” I said, nodding in agreement. The two of us hopped on the back of his motorcycle and soon our hair was blowing in the warm breeze as we passed occasional buildings and rice paddy fields. The ride was only a couple miles and he charged us 100,000 dong.

Sam Mountain is considered part of Chau Doc, but it is detached from the main village. Apart from visiting many of the shrines, it was my goal to climb to the top, which was supposedly the highest mountain in the Mekong Delta.

Our driver dropped us off at the foot of Sam Mountain, next to the Tay An Pagoda. This was a bustling little area with motorbikes and bicycles buzzing all around, shops lining the street, and vendors along the sidewalk. Not intending just yet to hike up the hill, we set out to explore the shrines.

Naturally, Tay An Pagoda became our first stop. The ornate building was orange in color, complemented with a creamy white. It appeared a cross between Buddhist and Hindu. The entrance was guarded with statues of elephants, lions and Buddhist deity figurines. Carved into the face of the building I saw what appeared to chrysanthemums, and along the trimming of the roof were lotus blossoms. Atop the pagoda stood an ornate tower with an onion dome.

An official description says it was built in 1847 and has elements of Cham, Vietnamese, Chinese and Indian cultures. I thought it interesting that the white elephant had six tusks protruding from his mouth.

Tay An Pagoda.

Just down the road we found our second holy building. This was the Ba Chua Xu Temple. Contrasted with the pagoda, this structure was more square in shape, with a greenish blue-tiled roof that was layered and flared at the corners. It was built in 1820.

Inside was an open-air walkway with nooks on the sides filled with shrines. Lotus blossoms, sticks of incense and other offerings sat on tables, I'm assuming to be sold to devotees. I saw several ladies around a tray of suckling pig. I didn't know if that was meant to be an offering, or lunch.

The Ba Chua Xu Temple is also known as the Holy Mother of the Realm. Legend has it that in ancient times the Holy Mother helped the villagers fight back the Siam army. She also blessed them with good weather and a rich harvest. Now worshipers will come to touch her statue and ask for her blessing and protection.

Ba Chua Xu Temple.

Across the street we found another place of worship. This one was the tomb of Thoai Ngoc Hau. Don't ask me how to pronounce his name. And if it weren't for the internet, I wouldn't even know who he was.

Thoai Ngoc Hau joined the army in 1777 at the age of 16. He was a military commander in 1802 at the beginning of the Nguyen Dynasty where he was instrumental in conquering the north. He also established several villages and canals in the area.

His tomb was enclosed inside a building that looked like every other shrine in the area. Atop a box was a sculpture of his head. Admirers came to give praise to the departed man.

Shrine and tomb of Thoai Ngoc Hau.

Now it was time to find a way up the mountain. This was no normal mountain. Most of it was covered in thick growth, shrines, and shacks lived in by locals. Supposedly there was a “trail” that went to the top, but we didn't know if that trail was dirt or concrete. If there was a sign pointing toward the trail, we probably didn't understand it. We quickly learned this would be a game of trial and error.

We walked up a set of stone stairs past shrines and what appeared to be tiny tombs. The path twisted and turned and soon I had completely lost my bearings. 

The path was also a bit sketchy. Often we came startling close to someone's home and dogs would begin to bark. I worried we were entering someone's living space. Once we passed a pet monkey in a cage that looked very sickly.

Cluster of tombs as we hike up the hill. 

Roaming dogs.

At one point we could see the top of the hill, but our meager trail fizzled out. It was near here where I first caught a glimpse of the next ridge over and saw what appeared to be the face of a giant stone Buddha. The inadequate view left much to be desired and we hoped to catch a better view later.

From our dead-end we retraced our steps to the bottom of the hill and began anew along another path. Now on this new path the way felt better. The trail seemed wider and we didn't seem to enter any private spaces. There were several stands off to the side offering hammocks and refreshments. Nearly all were empty. This must not be a popular time for pilgrims. In fact, we were the only pilgrims we encountered the entire day.

Interesting roots of a tree on the way up.

I should add that the rain was off and on the entire time. We used umbrellas as needed. The pathway was constantly wet.

At one point near the top we passed an uncommon vendor. They spoke no English. We bought two bottles of Pepsi for 40,000 dong and poured them into ice-filled glasses. Then we lounged in hammocks while sipping our drinks and enjoying the view. It was one of the highlights of the day and worth every dong we paid!

Jordan in the rain. 

A well-appreciated Pepsi break.

We continued our way, passing other shrines. At last we reached the top, which ended up being the most beautiful shrine of the entire hike. The complex consisted of several buildings, each painted red with intricate designs. This Buddhist temple seemed to have more of a Japanese style to it. The grounds were finely manicured with lush gardens and quaint ponds.

I was, however, disappointed that there was no 360° panoramic view at the top. There were several views along the way that offered vistas in different directions, including some that pointed toward the mountains of Cambodia. These at the top pointed toward the town of Chau Doc and the Bassac River.

Beautiful temple at the top of Sam Mountain. 

A red bridge crosses a pond at this Buddhist temple. 

A bathroom with a breeze!

At this point we were uncertain with the weather. There were serious storm clouds in the distance. The previous night we had a massive monsoonal downpour and didn't want to get stuck in something like that. Taking that into consideration, we decided to take the gondola down.

The gondola cost 90,000 dong each and required no effort. Rain splatters on the glass blurred much of the view, but we could see well the red-tiled roofs of the temples, the settlement of Sam Mountain, and the rising mount. I also caught a confirming glance of the giant stone Buddha head carved in rock on the far side of the mountain.

When we made it to the bottom I was determined to continue to the back side of the mountain. My first goal was to find the large stone Buddha, which we did within fifteen minutes of walking. It appeared to be under construction and I couldn't tell if it was a new sculpture, or if they were repairing the old.

This was our view of this stone Buddha on the gondola ride.

Once on the street, this is what it looked like. 

Along the way we passed a cemetery. I didn't know who was buried here, or whether they were important people. I also didn't know if the entombed were cremated, or embalmed and buried whole as they are in the West.

Each grave consisted of an above-ground tomb with a memorial on the front. In front of each memorial was a little shelf where family could place offerings. We used our phone to translate one of them and got the following: From the mother's grave, BUI THI CUC, Sunflower: 49 years old, Died 25-8 lunar month, Year of the Dog 1970.

Little cemetery on Sam Mountain.

Walking just down the street, we arrived at the Chua Phuoc Dien Pagoda, a beautiful temple set back within the trees of the hillside. A long set of stairs led to the temple complex, including a lotus pond and shrine to the Maitreya Buddha. Near the pond was a patio area with statues of the Four Heavenly Kings, who are Buddhist gods watching over the four cardinal directions.

Higher into the complex was the main hall where a traditional statue of Buddha sat atop a pedestal. Beyond this room is where things got interesting. An archway on the back wall led inside a dark tunnel with two stone snakes guarding the entrance. These serpents had the appearance of fire coming from their eyes and mouth. Further inside the tunnel came the sound of tumbling water and the sight of a fountain coming down the walls. Part of the stone floor was puddled with water. At the end of the short, but dark puddle was a shrine to three Buddhist figurines. The name of this place was The Cavern of Green and White Snakes.

Chua Phuoc Dien Pagoda, a very beautiful temple complex.

A second archway from the main hall led to a more extensive network of tunnels. Walking through here we entered a dark corridor and a stone staircase that led deeper into the cave. Water dripped from the top of the tunnel and we had to be careful not to slip on the rock. (We had to remove our shoes and socks at the entrance of the temple, so this entire time we walked in bare feet.)

This obscure tunnel snaked inside the cavern and at one time made a fork. We thought for a moment we might become lost inside the maze. As we walked we passed small shrines housed within a small cavity. The tunnel then opened up into a larger cavern with several shrines. This section was lit up with lights. At last the dank tunnel system came to an end and we were again outside in the fresh air, but in a new, unfamiliar section of the temple complex.

Buddha inside Phuoc Dien Pagoda.  The entrance to the cave is the archway on the right.

There is a story associated with the Phuoc Dien Pagoda. Around the 1840's the pagoda was just a bamboo and leaf hermitage. It was built by a lady named Le Thi Tho, whose dharma name was Dieu Thien. (A dharma name is given by a Buddhist teacher to a student to symbolize his or her commitment to the Buddhist path.) She built it as a place to practice.

In 1836 she became a nun, and in 1839 she received the Bhikkhuni precepts, which are a set of rules, or code of conduct for Buddhist nuns. In 1845 she decided to live in seclusion, so she chose Sam Mountain as her place of practice.

Next to her hermitage was a deep mountain cave where there lived two pythons. These snakes were known to be fierce, but when Dieu Thien moved in, they did not harm her. Instead they came next to her, lied still, and listened to her recite sutras.

After her death the local people donated money and rebuilt the pagoda. Over the many years that followed there were several renovations and improvements until the temple complex became what it is today.

We finished our visit and found several more beautiful gardens, statues, and shrines. Being that we were on a hill, there were amazing views across rice paddy fields and mountains, both of Vietnam and Cambodia. Jordan and I both agreed that this temple was probably the most fascinating thing we had seen up to that point on our trip.

More beautiful gardens and ponds at the temple complex.

Looking toward Cambodia and flooded ground from monsoon rains.

By this time we were starving. Next to the cemetery was a nice little outdoor eating place with aluminum tables and plastic chairs. Only one other family was eating there.

I told Jordan we were going to order the dish advertised. A picture with a name was posted on the wall: Vit Nau Chao. Once again, the lady trying to help us knew no English. We figured things out and sat at a table.

Twenty minutes later she brought a large ceramic pot of Vit Nau Chao on a small propane stove. This would be a hot pot. She also served a large plate of angel hair noodles and another of greens. She gave us chili sauce and small bowls. We figured things out and finished nearly everything except most of the greens.

Soon we were stopped by a motorcyclist, asking if we wanted a ride. After five minutes of charades and pointing to places on Google Maps, the two of us hopped on the back of his bike and sped back to Chau Doc. ♠

Vit Nou Chou, served via hot pot.

A Sampling of Cambodian Cuisine

We arrived in Phnom Penh just before dusk and by the time we left the hotel to find dinner the streets were dark and a cloud burst had just erupted. With umbrellas overhead we walked and walked trying to find a place to eat, but most who were outdoors had already closed shop.

We finally found a place protected beneath a canopy and sat down to a menu. I will admit that my knowledge of Cambodian food was next to nothing. I glanced over my options and decided on a rice-porridge dish that included liver, heart, shrimp and cuttlefish. I felt it would be a great introduction. Jordan, on the other hand, played it safe and ordered a more conventional noodle dish. Our meal cost 34,000 riels.

I don't remember much about how the food tasted, but rather another incident that took place during our meal. Three young school kids came to our table, stood in front with their hands pressed together, apparently begging for money. This went on for two minutes until the owner shooed them away. Begging, I would learn, became a typical scene in Cambodia.

First meal in Phnom Penh.

Four days were all we had in the “Land of the Khmers,” and we wanted to make the most of it. That included a desire to sample as much food as possible. But I was soon to learn that there would be less learning of Cambodian cuisine (it all looked so similar and was indistinguishable from other Southeast Asian food with my untrained eye) and more enjoying the experience while eating it.

A similar scene unfolded the following evening. Now the rain had stopped and puddles of water sat in potholes, reflecting neon lights of the city. We spotted a restaurant across the road, and as we crossed we startled a large street rat.

The place was small and dingy, with buckets and a cooler stacked near the entrance. There was only one other table with guests. This truly was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant . . . and that was how I preferred it.

The food was good. I ordered the pork and noodle soup. Although it had a pleasing taste, I didn't know if it would have tasted any different than a pork and noodle soup from Vietnam or Thailand. The noodles were the thin angel hair kind. It had a couple slices of pork and three pork balls. There was a slice of carrot, as well as the usual handful of greens adorning a savory broth. But the thing that made the evening so memorable was the cockroach crawling on the wall next to us!

A dingy hole-in-the-wall restaurant. 

Pork and noodle soup.

Phnom Penh did not have the street food I thought it would. I expected something similar to Bangkok. Perhaps this was because we were there during monsoon season. But that's not to say there was no street food. We just found it in pockets.

We wandered around the street carts to assess our options. Alongside the many foods I did not know were two that stood out: deep fried frogs, and birds on a skewer. The frogs were not just the legs, but the whole body without the head. Two frogs adorned each skewer. The birds, on the other hand, came with the head, beak and everything else. We didn't buy either, but I would have if I had more time.

Instead I bought other meats on a skewer, and sweet rice wrapped up in a thin tortilla-like cover. We took our food in a little baggie to our hotel and took the elevator to the “sky bar.” We were the only ones there. I don't remember much about the food we ate, but rather of the view we had while we ate. Before us stood the jumbled cityscape of Phnom Penh with colorful roofs below and a birds-eye view of random skyscrapers. In the distance loomed heavy storm clouds that would soon burst in a downpour that would last all night long.

Frogs and birds on a skewer.

Dinner with a view!

We found this very refreshing sugar cane drink.

Speaking of our hotel (which was only $36 a night), it was one of the best I've ever stayed in. Not only did it have a nice view of the city, but a rooftop pool, four jacuzzis (all a different temperatures from cold to hot), and a piping hot sauna. They also had an excellent breakfast buffet. There was an ample selection of eggs, toast, pastries, salad, and noodle soup (kuyteav). An on-site chef with a very tall hat stood ready to customize the noodle soup.

My favorite, however, was bobor, a rice congee dish that is very popular in Cambodia. This was very similar to the porridge dish I had on my first night, but this one had a better savory broth with more garnishes to sprinkle on top. Bobor has a long history in Cambodia, dating back at least 1,000 years.

Kuyteav, a noodle soup often eaten for breakfast.

Bobor.

Garnishments for the bobor.

On our final night in Phnom Penh we went to the night market, which was located across the quay, near the Tonle Sap river. We walked through stalls selling shirts, purses, crafts and a thousand other items.

On the far end we came to the food court where aromatic stalls lined the perimeter. One thing that made this food court unique was that there were no tables and chairs. Instead, colorful mats were laid on the ground, each with its own basket of condiments.

Jordan and I ordered some food and sat on the ground like we were having a picnic. I don't know how common it is to eat on the floor, but I believe it is practiced throughout Southeast Asia.

I ordered the lort cha with beef, a stir-fry using short thick rice noodles topped with an egg. It was fried with garlic, bean sprouts and other greens, and was served on a bed of lettuce. The dish came with a small side of chili oil.

Afterward we ordered a plate of kebabs.  We chose what we wanted, and they deep-fried it for us.  I will admit that I didn't know what any of them were. One looked like an egg and another we guessed was tofu.

Lort cha with beef.

Deep-fried something on a skewer.

Reflecting back on that evening I can remember what the food looked like (probably because I took pictures), but not how it tasted. But I will forever remember the atmosphere⸺the night market, the mats on the floor, the mystique of being in a foreign land.

Shortly after finishing our meal they began rolling up the mats and setting up tables and chairs. My guess is that they did this for the evening influx, the chairs and tables being able to accommodate more people.

The other thing that made that evening memorable was the rain that began to fall shortly after we left the market. We had a mile-walk to reach our hotel. I used an umbrella, but Jordan chose to get soaked. We ended our time in Phnom Penh exactly how we began it⸺in the rain. ♠

Eating dinner at the night market in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Southeast Asian Monsoon

I once stood on the front porch of a gentleman during a downpour of rain. The shower was so intense that it reminded him of the monsoon season in Vietnam when he served in the war. “It was so reliable,” he said, “that you could set your watch by it.” 

For some reason that little conversation has always stayed with me. I knew that someday I wanted to go to Vietnam, but would I really want to go there during the monsoon? On one hand I wouldn't want inclement weather interfering with sightseeing. But on the other, a Southeast Asian monsoon would be an experience few on the other side of the globe would ever have. 

Several years later I finally got the opportunity to travel to the Mekong Delta area of Vietnam and Cambodia. Our visit would be during the first two weeks of October, which would not be at the peak of the monsoon season, but on the shoulders. Phnom Penh receives an average of 9.7 inches of rain during October, while Ho Chi Minh City receives 13.4 inches. For both places, September is the wettest month, followed by October. 

Storm clouds brewing near Sam Mountain in Vietnam.

I didn't want to be stuck indoors or beneath an umbrella for the entire two weeks, so I did my research and many people online assured me that when the monsoonal rains came, they hit hard and heavy, but after an hour or so Heaven would turn off her spigot and all would return to normal. No matter what the scenario, our journey would be an adventure. 

During our first day and a half in Saigon, it didn't rain at all. Then, while we sat at a table in Chinatown in a restaurant with a full open-air front, the sky began to release its water. With excitement I stood up and walked to the front of the restaurant where I met the sidewalk and watched the street, traffic and people turn wet. Some pedestrians and motorcyclists quickly donned plastic ponchos while others braved the storm. 

But as quickly as it came, it left. The skies gave no more. I waited for the rest of the evening and there was no more rain. I was surprised that after two days in Vietnam we only had one measly outburst. Certainly no setting our watches with that. 

Our first heavy rain came on days 3 and 4, both in Phnom Penh. They began in late afternoon and lasted several hours after dark. It made navigating the streets more difficult. Many streets had no sidewalk, which left us to dodging potholes of water, cars and mopeds, all while holding wide umbrellas above our heads. And all this in the dark. 

It also made it more difficult to find a place for dinner. Most street vendors and restaurants with outside seating closed shop once the rain began. 

Puddles of water on the street in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

The majority of locals wore ponchos rather than use umbrellas.

We observed the locals. Most preferred ponchos to umbrellas. A surprising amount used nothing at all and chose to get soaked. It was always cute to see a family on a moped, perhaps the father on front wearing a poncho, and his two school-aged daughters on back getting soaked! 

I recall our final night in Phnom Penh. We went to the night market to look around, then to the food court where we ate on red mats placed on the ground, kind of like a picnic. After our dinner the rain began to pour. It wasn't heavy, but constant. Jordan and I both walked a mile to our hotel. I used an umbrella and Jordan chose to go without. Needless to say, he was soaked by the time we got back (but he said it felt good). 

Another remarkable thing about this time of year is how much water there is . . . everywhere! The Mekong River swells in size and this is why those living near its banks dwell in floating homes or on stilts. The Tonlé Sap River connects Tonlé Sap Lake with the Mekong, merging near the city of Phnom Penh. During the dry season the river flows toward the Mekong, nearly draining Tonlé Sap Lake. But during the rainy season the river actually reverses course and brings water from the Mekong back into Tonlé Sap Lake. 

Houses built along the swollen Tonle Sap River in Cambodia.

Water is everywhere during the rainy season.

In addition to extra water in the river, many of the fields and other places are also flooded with water. As a tourist it was difficult to know which places always had water versus those that were flooded due to it being the rainy season. Once you got out of the city, much of the land, it seemed, was submerged under water. 

The seasonal floods are vital to rejuvenating the river's ecosystems. Floodwaters bring nutrient-rich silt which is necessary to nourish the vast amount of rice fields in the Mekong Delta. Additionally it also provides moisture needed to water crops. 

Storm clouds over the Mekong River near the Cambodia / Vietnam border.

One positive benefit for the tourist is that it brings temperatures down to bearable. I recall a trip to Thailand several years ago during the dry season. They say in Thailand there are only three seasons: hot, hotter and hottest. We were there between “hotter” and “hottest” and although beautiful, Thailand was scorching. Here in nearby Cambodia and Vietnam during the rainy season, other than a little mugginess and heat during the climax of the day, I felt comfortable most of the time. 

As far as the rain restricting and interfering with our trip, fortunately for us, I would say it didn't too much. Most of our downpours came in the final 2 or 3 hours of daylight, or even once the sun had already set. Our biggest daytime downpour came while we toured the infamous S-21 Prison in Phnom Penh, and we were inside for most of that. My advice is to come prepared with an umbrella or poncho, and a little flexibility. 

Downpour at S-21 Prison in Phnom Penh.

During our stay in Chau Doc, a Vietnamese city near the Cambodian border, I purposely booked a hotel on the edge of town that overlooked rice patty fields and the distant Sam Mountain. My favorite monsoon experience came here while sitting on the balcony. 

Rain came down in droves, starting just before dusk and lasting into the night. It was exhilarating to relax and observe the storm, listening to the flood of water descend from the sky. Wind blew the cold scent of storm across our skin. Suddenly a flash of lightening lit up the sky and for a moment the palm trees, rice fields and Sam Mountain flickered before us in silhouette, only to instantly disappear. Seconds later a low rumbling echo of thunder bellowed through the night air. 

After several hours the rain stopped. 

Now was the next movement of our symphony. Cicadas buzzed in the distance and frogs chirped a melodic song. Somewhere out of view, probably in the bar in the next building, we listened to the singing of karaoke. 

All was right in the world. We had nowhere to go and nothing to do but sit and listen to beautiful music in a foreign land. ♠

Storm moving over Sam Mountain in Chau Doc, Vietnam.

Boat Ride on the Mekong

We arrived at the office for the boat, a dusty backroom of a restaurant on the quay. A man who only spoke broken English with a Khmer accent sat behind a desk and took our names. We set our luggage against the wall and waited on a chair while other passengers filed in. 

A lady with a straw hat, stringed tank top and light flowing long skirt came into the room. She traveled alone and spoke in an Australian accent. One family came from India, another from Hong Kong. Several carried red German passports. Today there would be a medley of passengers. 

At last the boat came and we carried our luggage out to the loading dock and stepped onto the vessel, handing our bags to a crewman to stow beneath the boat. We sat next to the window, behind the Germans, overlooking the river. 

At the loading dock in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

It was monsoon season in Southeast Asia and I watched dark clouds billow in the sky. The river was brown, nothing clean about it. Occasional trash floated on the surface along with green stalks and leaves of water hyacinth. 

I watched as we departed the port. Familiar sites of the Royal Palace and Wat Ounalom passed by as we moved down-river and within fifteen minutes the skyscrapers of Phnom Penh faded behind us. 

Goodbye to Phnom Penh.

The Mekong River is the twelfth longest in the world, wending nearly 2,500 miles from the Tibetan Plateau to the South China Sea. Once it enters Vietnam it begins meandering and spreading out, creating the Mekong Delta. This area is critical to the livelihood and food security for millions of people. It is known as the breadbasket of Vietnam. Much of the area is covered by rice patties that are irrigated by delta water and fertilized by delta silt. 

I sat gazing at the distant shore while the wake of the boat spewed water up and across the window. I spotted a Buddhist temple nestled behind the trees and a larger than life reclining Buddha. 

We passed beneath the Tsubasa Bridge, a mammoth structure that spans the entire length of the river. This bridge carries traffic between Ho Chi Minh City and Phnom Penh, eliminating the need for a ferry when it was built in 2015. We were not to pass another bridge the entire trip. This was remote country. Access wasn't easy. 

Splashing water on the Mekong River.

A glimpse of village life.

Tsubasa Bridge.

A ferry carries locals across the river.

Passengers enjoy the breeze.

Further down the river we passed more Buddhist temples, small fishing villages, barges on the river, water buffalo, and men working in the fields. But everything was at a distance due to the wide span of the river. Swollen as it was, it had to be over a mile wide in many places. 

After three hours we finally came to the immigration office at Kaorm Samnor on the Cambodian side of the border. We docked the boat and walked to a small building where we handed our passports and visas to a man behind a window. Fingers were scanned and pictures taken. And just in case we needed it, a Buddhist shrine sat on the grounds. 

We returned to the boat, only to get out a few minutes later on the Vietnamese side of the frontier. We waited in another room for over an hour. This time we waited in a room with tables and chairs. Outside was a wooden patio overlooking the river. By now the sun was setting, casting a glow on those dark monsoonal clouds. They finally returned our passports and we filed back onto the boat. 

Reclining Buddha on the shore.

Buddhist temple with small reclining Buddha (still in Cambodia).

Dark monsoonal clouds.

On the grounds of the immigration office in Kaorm Samnor, Cambodia.

Again we sped across the darkening murky waters and I wondered what we would do if the boat were to capsize. Could we swim ashore, or would we be swept down-river? It would be a terrifying ordeal for sure. 

We came to a point where we left the Mekong River and cut through a canal to the Hau River. The canal was long and our passage lasted half an hour. We passed trees whose bases were covered in water. We passed floating houses that sat at the water's edge. What would it be like to live here? The place had the feel of the bayou. These people lived at the water's edge with no other nighttime noise except the occasional speedboat, lapping of water and croaking frogs. 

Finally in Vietnam, enjoying the sunset.

At last we arrived at the Hau River, a distributary of the Mekong. This general area was the beginning of the Mekong Delta.  Instead of tributary rivers that fed into the Mekong, there were now waterways such as the Hau (Bassac River in Cambodia) that flowed out. 

Once on the Hau River, it wasn't too much longer until we arrived at the dock in Chau Doc. I was excited to spend three nights here as it was a location not yet on the radar of most tourists in Vietnam. We unloaded our luggage, and as warned from the literature, cyclo drivers were outside waiting for us. ♠

 

Final destination, Chau Doc, Vietnam.

On a cyclo, headed to our hotel.