Uncle Ho

We moved on to Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City, this morning, following an agreeably swift airport experience. Our guide, Phai, did some fantastic queue-jumping - much to the chagrin of a New Zealand couple ahead of us, who complained that such blatant pushing-in would never happen in their country. "Yes, it's a culture shock," replied Phai, utterly unconcerned.

Then we managed to get bumped up to an earlier flight, which was due to leave precisely 16 minutes from the time we checked in our bags. A friendly Vietnamese Airlines stewardess offered to guide us through security, and set off at what can only be described as a gentle saunter. We had to keep slowing down, in case we lost her behind us.

Anyway, we made the plane without incident and are now ensconced in our Saigon hotel, having had our first exploratory wander around the city. On initial impression, it's much more modern than Hanoi, but has more of an impersonal feel, being that much busier and more business-like. Our local guide, Hung, warned us to be aware of pickpockets, but assured us that they only wanted our money, were very hospitable and wouldn't murder us. Quite comforting, we all thought.

The statue is of the city's namesake, Ho Chi Minh himself. Or Uncle Ho, as he is affectionately known here. His picture appears on all the money, so there's no avoiding him, and he seems to be held in unbelievably high esteem - all least by a portion of the population.

Later, we'll venture out in the direction of the night market, where we're told everything is fixed price, so we can give our abysmal haggling skills a rest for the evening.