HO CHI MINH CITY – Instead of roadside shacks with corrupt officials, the Vietnamese border was built for giants (or to try and compensate for something communism is lacking?) Towering well over the bureaucratic, concrete-crossing point was an intimidating eye-looking statue (picture Saruman's eye in 'Lord of the Rings') and just below it the star-encrusted flag. We were frog-marched off the bus and into an intimidating, stark hall where some very sombre-looking men in military uniforms glared at us. A quick roll-call brought us up individually to give us a stare-down (catch us for any H1N1 viruses) and then we were quickly pushed back onto the bus that had brought us from Phnom Penh. Welcome to Vietnam.

We were still four hours from the largest, though not the capital, city in Vietnam. What it's called, though depends on who you are. Saigon, which is the name the French adopted when they ruled, belongs to those aged 30 and older and are from the South Vietnam. Ho Chi Minh City was adopted by the Northern Vietnamese when they took over (liberated) the South. The name pays tribute to the man – Ho Chi Minh – and communist who declared Vietnam independent from the French in 1945.

This was wishful thinking. It took almost another 10 years of battles before it actually was independent – 1954 – and partitioned into North communists and Southern non-communists. Ho Chi Minh served, first, as prime minister and then president of the North during this partition affair.

A temporary affair. A 1956 election was supposed to unite the county. The South refused. Frustration at the refusal turned into violence. This turned into an attempt by America to 'contain' communism for 20-odd years, millions of lives lost and the destruction of a country. That worked well.

I arrived in Ho Chi Minh City by mid-afternoon and promptly ran into my German travel buddy who survived the 35km bike ride in Laos. I love the loop everyone does in Southeast Asia: start in Vietnam and wind to Thailand. Start in Thailand and wind to Vietnam.

He had arrived the day before so he knew his way around. I dumped my bag in the hostel and we hit downtown Ho Chi Minh City.

As one would imagine, the city is littered with history, especially journalistic history from the Vietnam/American war. Barely changed, the Caravelle hotel, where the New York Times and Washington Post had their headquarters during the war, still towers over the opera house. And nearby is the Hotel Continental Saigon where Graham Greene wrote his novel, 'The Quiet American'.

With a grand central market filled to the brim with everything from sports clothes to dried fruit to a Catholic church and ritzy hotels, downtown Ho Chi Minh City is eclectic.

It is also very apparent here the type of wealth that capitalism is bringing to this country as Louis Vuitton hugs the corners and BMWs stop out front. Perched next to these 20th century wealth are the noodle sellers and their traditional, precariously, balanced wooden carriers.

My stomach was not doing so well after the tour so we grabbed a quick bite to eat and then crashed. Or at least tried to go to bed. I completely splurged and got air conditioning only to find it didn't work. When I tried to explain this to the front desk she insisted that air conditioning in my country was different from in Vietnam, that everyone else was cold except for me and that they would have someone fix it the next day.

I couldn't argue much longer with this kind of logic so I gave up. That's the beauty of Vietnam that I grew to understand. They have the best of Communism and Capitalism rolled into one – you are no better than anyone else, customer or not, but they still expect to take as much of your money as they can get.

Needless to say combined with that and the motorcycle gangs that engulf the roads in Saigon I was not impressed with the city. The next day I got suckered into seeing the Mekong Delta (only two hours away) as part of an organised tour. It was awful. I had been warned, but my German travel buddy was going (and you know if he jumped off a bridge so would I) so I tagged along. It was a circus. From one ring where they served us honey tea to the next with local fruit (rambutans or hairy fruit are my new favourite) and then on to the finale where we took some of the traditional boats to try out coconut candy.

Failing to learn from this circus, me and German travel buddy signed-up for a second tour in Vietnam (oh, yeah camouflage and all). This time it was to live like the Viet Cong or the guerillas who fought for the North during the Vietnam war. These crazy men lived in more than 75 miles of tunnels zig-zagging around then-Saigon for more than 20 years. Most of these tunnels were only half a metre to a metre wide!

Now to ensure tourists don't get stuck (people have grown in size) these tunnels have been enlarged and escape holes added every 10 metres. Even with those changes, the Cu Chi Tunnels proved terrifying for me (claustrophobia anyone?). I let the 30 others on our organised tour go through first. Three of us remained. We spent the next 15 minutes talking ourselves into this. Chanting we can do it, we can do it, me, an Australian woman and a British boy finally made it through ... 10 metres? Not bad, not bad. We did it that's all that counts (seriously I would have given the country to the South if I had to live in there).

Not satisfied with terrorising myself in the Viet Cong tunnels I thought I would harass my senses in the War Remnants Museum back in Saigon (the tunnels were a good three hours from Ho Chi Minh City). Communists just do not make good museums. Well not good ones if you're looking for any perspective. Previously called the 'The House for Displaying War Crimes of American Imperialism and the Puppet Government of South Vietnam' then the Museum of American War Crimes and finally as the War Crimes Museum until 1993, it was renamed after relations with America normalised.

Still the museum focuses solely on America's role. I am not going to say the Americans were angels. It was war. The use of Napalm and Agent Orange are despicable and continue to haunt this country. However, I am just going to take a wild guess and say that the North Vietnamese were no angels either (Senator and former navy pilot John McCain being tortured until he couldn't lift his arms...).

After all the propaganda I could take, me and my German travel buddy needed to find some food! We hadn't eaten all day. A local place on the road provided some amazing fresh spring rolls (a Vietnamese speciality) and a less than glamorous soup before I had to get on an overnight bus and say goodbye to my German travel buddy again.

These buses are interesting to say the least. The beds aren't bad; they are comfortable enough singles with a side that you can have sitting up or laying down. Unfortunately with music and karaoke blaring sleep is fleeting. A good three hours of sleep later I was in Nha Trang – a beach town further north. I hadn't heard good things about this beach town which is built up with towering hotels so I decided to rough it, spend one day here and take a second overnight bus up to Hoi An the same day. Ugh! (Nothing like running out of time on your visa).

It was tough, but I managed to leave my big backpack at the bus company, grab a bathing suit and shorts and rent a bicycle to see the town. It was good to get out and get some exercise because even as short as I am the beds were a little cramped. First stop was a massive white Buddha statue perched on the hill over Nha Trang. Interesting I guess.

Then it was on to some Cham ruins (predecessors who dominated this area of Asia between the 7th and 15th Century). The ride out to these, which are about three kilometres from the town, was far more interesting than the actual ruins, but then I am also speaking from a person who has seen the Angkor Wat so I might be a bit biased.

After a pause here I did a bit of a loop, some drive-by picture taking and after thoroughly burning my legs and exhausted I pulled into luxurious restaurant/poolside place. The Louisiane Brewhouse was great. I could eat, use the internet and the pool for the price of my meal. I could also shower there so the people on my next night bus wouldn't be totally appalled. I wasted my entire afternoon here.

Next stop: Hoi An