Down To The Delta: Markets On The Mekong 

We seem to get from Da Nang to Can Tho in the blink of an eye, via a domestic flight which leaves on time and arrives early followed by a taxi driver with Formula 1 aspirations. Our base in Can Tho is in the Ninh Kieu district, close to the quay of the same name, and as we take our first stroll and look out across the water, there is a serenity which we think is like a Spanish siesta, but will come to realise later that it is something else entirely.

The mighty Mekong River travels some 3,050 miles from its source high on the Tibetan Plateau down to the Delta, passing through six countries as it makes its complicated journey south. With a history of trading and trade routes going back thousands of years, the Mekong has for centuries, and continues to, sustain the livelihoods of millions of people along its route.

Throughout its course the Mekong is not only joined by many tributaries but also spawns distributaries multiple times, particularly as it nears the delta region close to Can Tho. From here, five separate major waterways spread out into the delta, known by the locals as the “five dragons”, one of which, the Hau, branches off through the centre of the city whilst the Mekong proper passes beneath the imposing Can Tho suspension bridge still within the city limits.

Life here is all about the water. The floating markets for which the area is renowned, bustling fish markets, fleets of traditional sanpan fishing boats, plots of water borne vegetable crops, all manner of commercial river tour operators…..and even garishly lit night cruisers featuring bars, restaurants and karaoke. The community lives off the proceeds of the Mekong, one way and another. It also has to cope with its moods: the Mekong bursts its banks regularly in rainy season and floods many of the homes-on-stilts which face on to the waterfront.

Outside of the rainy season, a huge expanse of water such as this moves at a leisurely pace, bringing a deceptive calm to the air which at times makes even the chugging of a tour boat sound restful. It is indeed deceptive though: Can Tho is not really a restful place, and we can only imagine how different this city must look when the siege of flooding is under way.

Our apartment in Can Tho sits above the Vado Canteen, a cafe with a regular flow of customers which never quite equals the number of staff. Each time we arrive back at the place, the old guy who we assume to be the owner greets us with a smile and a chirpy “xin chao” as he sports his orange T-shirt to match his staff’s uniform. Those staff, all of them diminutive figures, open the door for us, form a guard of honour and smile sweetly as we pass through – it’s not really a guard of honour, it’s just that the cafe is so small and cramped that they have to stand aside to let us through. We then pass through the kitchen which smells of something similar to boiled cabbage, and where there is always one staff member fast asleep amongst the boxes, then on up the stairs to our apartment which is, thankfully, a roomy and airy space. At no stage do we get tempted to eat downstairs.

It’s an early start for us on the Wednesday. Our host tells us to be outside the cafe beneath our apartment at 5:30am; we go down a little early and our guide Lin is already waiting. We’re soon off on our chugging craft on the water, heading towards the renowned Cai Rang floating market, the sun trying and failing to break through the heavy morning sky. Along the riverbank, three-sided stilted houses are open to the elements and creaking old house boats sport lines of washing; people wash their bodies in the murky waters whilst up on deck kettles steam on miniature stoves and men wallow sleepily in their hammocks.

The handsome Sheraton and other hotels tower over the river and not for the first time on our travels we are struck by the extreme gulfs in wealth in a local environment. These are such humble dwellings. These are such swish hotels. They stare at each other across the water, separated by a river yet existing in different worlds.

Cai Rang itself is an age old floating market, a wholesale market in which the traders live on the river, their houseboat and storage boat tied together. Their life is one of sailing upstream to the farmers, buying produce, returning to the city and selling that produce to shopkeepers and night market stall holders in town. Buying from the supply boats which cater for the market, we eat a bowl of pho (for breakfast, too heavy this early!), drink amazing coffee and scoff fresh juicy pineapple.

Around us cash is changing hands, stashes of pineapples move from boat to boat, traders do deals over piles of pumpkin; but there are just as many boats idling in the water, traders sat on their haunches waiting for something to happen. For every flash of life there are ten scenes of nothingness.

And so in truth Cai Rang is a bit of a disappointment, not quite the vibrant, colourful hive of activity we had read about, more a collection of tired old boats laden with a single type of fruit, the air full of petrol fumes and the water writhing in floating plastic. Lin tells us that Cai Rang is nowhere near as manic as it once was, and seems to be shrinking annually, a shadow of its former self.

“There are easier ways to make money” she muses, “especially for the young”.

One of those ways is probably the more conventional street markets in town, or maybe serving in restaurants, or more likely still, heading off to the bigger cities. The renowned Trang Phu street food market, our other intended destination here, has shut down completely: always on our list of exciting experiences in this town, to our disappointment it simply no longer exists. The quay at Ninh Kieu is seemingly the new heartbeat of Can Tho, the garish karaoke boats competing for customers as the music gets louder, boat tour vendors pestering people to commit to a 5:30am start for the Cai Rang tour, electric buses ferrying revellers to and from the waterside. But supply outweighs demand by some distance, both on the quayside where the hawkers soon sit down and give up, and in the empty eateries where owners sit waiting to fill just one table.

It’s notoriously humid here. The heat is stifling throughout our stay, yet the sun rarely makes an appearance, trapped the other side of a colourless unforgiving sky which squeezes the humidity down to ground level. No wonder this city takes a siesta – a casual stroll is totally sapping. Only the rats are active all day, and with plentiful supplies of water, food and garbage, Can Tho easily wins our all time “rat viewings per hour” award. They are everywhere. In every street, under every bush, in any kind of doorway. Even on the butchers’ slabs.

Can Tho is an odd one. Las Vegas style lighting screams out from bars full of empty tables and idle staff; the live music of Hoi An and Da Nang is conspicuous by its absence; drivers of electric buses lazily wait to be approached rather than tout for business. Street food stalls are over stocked and have no queues, their selection wilting in the heat, yet the strip of mostly empty bars looks at first glance like London’s West End, bright neons shining up into the night sky.

The Lotus Bridge flashes its multi coloured LED, the karaoke boats sparkle like fairground attractions, and one major street – Dai Lo Hoa Binh – would challenge Oxford Street at Christmas in terms of overhead lighting displays. Yet go to a Sky Bar and you will find eight staff looking after six customers; look down on the flashing displays of the Lotus Bridge and there will not be one person crossing, or taking photographs. Track down the restaurants serving genuine Vietnamese dishes, as we do, and you will have the place to yourselves.

We wonder whether Can Tho can make its mind up about what it wants to be: its attempts to be a hotspot are incongruous and half hearted, its claims to fame (the marketsn) are dying a slow death, it dresses like a clubber but acts like a librarian. Can Pho is a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces don’t match, a youngest child lacking the charisma of its older siblings.

Overall, our recommendation is…if you want to see the floating markets, do it on an excursion from somewhere else, because Can Tho really doesn’t have a great deal to offer.