Ho Chi Minh City.

This city is a step up. Hanoi was bustling, full of life on every corner, scooters and people jostling for your attention. But Ho Chi Minh is a bigger, bolder, brasher version of the north's big city. The temperature is a good few degrees higher, the buildings are taller and although there is more space, there is more to fill it with. It is relentless. 

On our first night - following a surprisingly uneventful flight - we headed in the direction of the main bars. There were certainly some sights. There is no worse introduction to a place than an Essex-boy promoter accosting you and saying that "the top two DJs in Vietnam" are in his bar (I'm the third best, for the record). We did find draught beer for 7,000 dong though. That's 20p to you untravelled brutes. A boy with elephantitis was paraded along while we sat for a drink, his head swollen to a size I didn't think possible, besides John Barnes. It was troubling. I don't know whether he was being used or cared for by the man who carried him, but he was soon away into the night. 

I also got felt up by a prostitute again and yes, she was old and ugly. We noticed a lot more people selling items and begging. One man tried to sell us lighters. We said no and then he simply said "ecstasy?" A bar man with a mullet offered me opium. I felt like Coleridge. Wearing my beard like an albatross around my neck. It was all a fair introduction to the frenetic pace of life in this "liberated" city. 

On Tuesday I wandered around the local market - a sprawling affair full of smells I did not recognise. That is a familiar occurrence here. I bartered for an iPhone charger (as my forefathers did before me) and then met Ben and Sophie. We ended up at the top of the Saigon tower, drinking Chimay and watching the hive of activity below. This is a big city, make no mistake about it. We went for coffee, crepes and ice-cream at a French place, cos it was one of those days, and then me and Sophie found a very cool Belgian beer bar. It was nice to give my taste buds some of the good stuff before hitting the ba ba ba and stuffed pancakes in the evening. 

Thursday morning meant a trip to Cu Chi Tunnels, a big tourist attraction where the Vietcong fought and lived deep below the surface. Compared to the terrible logistics of a Halong Bay, it was actually a really good tour. Those Vietcong were crafty beggars. Tim O'Brien's novels were at the forefront of my mind when we saw various boobie-traps (always loved that term) and saw their means of evasion. I loved the idea of cooking at 5am and having a pipe to redirect the smoke, to disguise it with the fog. Or the sandals made from tyres to make it seem as though troops had walked in the opposite way, by the width of the sole. 

Worth mentioning was our toilet break on the way to the tunnels, where we were taken to what amounted to a sweat shop for disabled people. I have seen other tourist stops like this, such as near Halong, but the difference here was that Agent Orange was used as an excuse. It was a weird place to stop, but luckily some Asian women on our trip spent as much time there as possible to make us feel incredibly awkward. On the plus side, another tour guide at the stop looked like an Asian Jack Sparrow (see Instagram adammcculloch23). 

I managed to meet some more English people on the bus; a girl travelling alone seemed cool but is there anything worse when you're away than a male lifeguard from Eastbourne saying "what happens in Vietnam, stays in Vietnam"? I apologise unreservedly to citizens of the world who think that all English people have the personality of a flannel soaked in warm Carling. 

Nowhere was this more apparent than when we bumped into them again at Independence Palace. From his and his balding, tribal-tattooed comrade it should have been a tedious experience. For 87p we got a guided tour of this bizarre former HQ of the Republican government. I heard one Aussie tourist describe it, accurately it must be said, as like something out of a Bond film. With the helicopter on the roof and the underground war rooms, it certainly could have been. A good find. 

In the evening we headed to a Vietnamese BBQ spot. You can't really going wrong with beer and meat that you sear yourself at the table. Then it was onto a rooftop bar, some Vietnamese jazz (surprisingly good singer) and some more German/Belgian beer. Just as I was saying that there are not many places in the world, especially London, where you could enjoy a Chimay in such elegant surrounds, a cockroach crawled behind Sophie. Cue hysterics. It was quite an apt moment for a city such as this. Behind the luxury, above the droves of people and swarm of scooters, this city can still surprise, shock, remind you of its unremitting vibrancy. There is never a quiet moment.

And now to Bangkok. If it wasn't mad enough, there is talk of revolution in the air...