I’ve arrived in Can Tho. It’s a small town in the middle of the area called the Mekong Delta. “Small” is relative, since it has 4 million inhabitants, and the Mekong Delta is 8 times larger than Zealand.

I’ve been put up at a small homestay. My Vietnamese hostess is small, grey-haired, sweet and helpful. When I arrived, she pointed to a small bamboo chair, where I sat down. From there she pulled out a smartphone and used Google Translate to hold a conversation with me. I got an introduction to the area, help booking sightseeing tours, laundry service and currency exchange. Everything she could help with would normally cost twice as much, if not more, in all the other towns I’ve visited. I think part of that is because of Can Tho itself, though. It’s very little touristed, and you can feel it in the range of options and the prices.

Can Tho lies along one of the largest rivers in the delta and is famous for its floating market. A small community of people who live on boats and sell to the many who travel up and down the rivers daily. These days it seems to be more of an attraction that survives on selling to tourists, since normal traffic runs by scooter and by car.

My fantastic hostess helped me find a good boat tour and transport to the harbor. You have to get up early to see the market. The boat sails at 5:30 in the morning. I’m led to the boat, get a sticker on my hand so they can keep track of me. There are about 30 of us on this longboat. It’s actually surprisingly pleasant. The sun is just about to rise, so the temperature is only 27-28 degrees, which is a comfortably low temperature compared to the 35 degrees I’ve been struggling with the last couple of weeks.

Our tour guide grabs the microphone and starts talking. In Vietnamese. It’s at this point that I look around and realize I’m the only foreigner. But I have to say, modern technology has become absurdly good. With Google Translate, I manage to follow along with what the tour guide is talking about.

As we sail, there are constantly speedboats pulling up alongside us. They hook on with hooks and toss coffee, tea and fruit in to the buyers on our boat. They have insanely good balance, because their boats rock and bump into the side of our boat constantly. It’s completely normal for a foot to rest on the boat engine and steer it, while two hands are busy serving a drink and taking payment. The acrobatics are impressive.

Breakfast is noodle soup and is also served from a boat that pulls up alongside us. After eating noodle soup quite a few times over the last month or so, there’s something poetic about the fact that the best noodle soup I’ve had was served in the middle of a Vietnamese river for 10 kroner.

After the last shopping opportunity at a couple of floating houses on pontoons lashed together with rope and planks, we head back to our harbor. It’s 8:00 when we get back, and the temperature is already starting to creep up again. The day’s adventure is already pretty much over, and the rest of the day is mostly about shade, air conditioning and respect for the sun.

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