Ferries replaced bridges today as the estuaries widened. Paths angle steeply into the water, and the ferries drove their fixed ramps over the paths so we could ride straight on. The terrain opened up to reveal coconut plantations with irrigation channels cut through the earth, then opened up more for rice fields. We spent more time on main roads, though our guide took us into the backroads for ‘adventure path’ as often as he could. He relied a lot on the locals for directions as some paths had been swallowed by mud and on others the bridges were under construction.
The paths we took seemed to be a trade route for pigs. Motorbikes towed cages just big enough for one large pig to stand up in, or five small pigs to pile into. We tried to get them to stop to let us take a photo, but they seemed to think our gestures were some foreign form of greeting and mimicked us with big grins.
We stopped at a market area on one occasion, and I discovered a number of stalls selling ten different kinds of eggs – small, large, white, speckled, furry black ones. Quang tells me the latter had been rolled in charcoal, and were a delicacy. Beneath the table, each of these stalls had a tray of chicks climbing over one another and cheeping loudly.
At the end of the day, we caught a ferry over a river that must have been a kilometre wide. Near the ramp, which always remains down the whole trip, a pig lay in a cage too low to stand up in. When the ferry pulled away from the ramp, the pig began to panic, struggling to stand. Its motion pushed it backwards where the cage must have been weakest. From the other end of the ferry, we saw the pig suddenly free and heading down the ramp. I ran up to make sure it was okay, not sure what I could actually do, but the pig was gone, already in the water. One of the locals pointed down the side of the boat, then a bit later, we saw a pink spot bobbing in the wake. No one seemed too worried. I hope it made it to shore, but I fear it became dinner for a crocodile.
Despite reaching every ferry just as it was about to leave, we arrived late to the city on the other side of the large river, and Quang wanted us to take the bus the final 7km to the hotel, but the younger part of the group wanted to try the traffic. For the next twenty minutes, he led four of us along streets writhing with scooters and bicycles, our bus right on my tail. Fortunately, the route was mostly straight, but I still had to pass the slow cycles and avoid the faster scooters. This was most frightening when trying to turn left across the busy road, but there were always enough gaps to get through. We arrived at the hotel buzzing.