By Karen Mitchell

I was visiting Ho Chi Minh City, delighting in its urban charms, when I first felt it - the unmistakable pull of the Mekong Delta. Even in the bustling heart of HCMC you can sense this expansive waterway beckoning like an insistent lover, calling you to its aquatic universe. Make the journey, it whispers. Stay the night.

The next morning I pack lightly and head out by car from HCMC to the Delta, passing rice fields so green I could cry as the topography shifts and the memory of the city fades. Dockside in Cai Be, I transfer to a small boat that delivers me like a pilgrim to Le Cochinchine, a shining wooden junk that will be my home on the Mekong.

My stateroom is a cozy space appointed with two beds covered in crisp white
linens and a private bath with shower. Peering out the small window I am positively transported by the scene; it's as if I am living in a beautifully painted exotic landscape. After an onboard lunch of nem, fish, rice noodles and the ubiquitous Vietnamese coffee, I venture to the upper deck where the captain indulges me as I take the dormant wheel, the river spread before us like vast uncharted territory. I as we settle into lounge chairs on the deck. Le Cochinchine's engine is brought to life. Let the cruise begin!

We move along the river as if viewing living tableaux: a young child being bathed by its father along the river banks; river families waving from their small boats; three teenage boys enjoying an afternoon swim near the entrance to one of the many Mekong canals that snake in and out of the Delta like mysterious by-ways to another realm.

We stop in river towns, visiting ancient homes, tasting newly-minted coconut candy, and strolling along paths that follow the tiny canals. We board Le Cochinchine once again, cruising into the night past the beehive structures of a brick factory, our pre-dinner cocktails in hand on the deck. Stars and crickets emerge as if a magic curtain had been lifted for a performance. The aroma of nuoc mam, made nearby, floats lightly in our senses and the lights from homes along the river are softly illuminated. As we reach our destination, Long Xuyen, we are lulled to sleep by the water bazaar to come, the promise of morning's floating market Chomoi.

After an early breakfast of delicious crepes and fruit, we don our life jackets, boarding our small boat to approach the floating market so Le Cochinchine's wake won't disturb the smaller merchant craft. The river market is already alive with action as boats piled high with coconuts and pineapple open for business. A tiny restaurant of a boat darts in and out between its neighbors as the steamy aroma rises from its pots of "pho to go." It's all a loosely choreographed dance of commercial enterprise to rival any city market.

Later, as I am ferried to a dock for my ride back to HCMC, I choreograph my own dream: I stand on the deck of a shiny wooden junk as it turns slowly from a wide spot in the Mekong. We move onto a tiny canal toward yet another breathtaking tableau, one I can only imagine teems with infinite life.