Our small boat nosed its way through the muddy waters every wooden board of its body juddering as the crude engine throbbed beneath us. I was glad when we turned into one of the many creeks criss-crossing the Mekong Delta and glided through a narrow corridor of vegetation. Green fronds reached out to us. Behind this front line the large blade shaped leaves of the water coconuts stood to attention guarding their yellow flowers and stalks of small brown fruits. Beyond them ranks of thin trunks of coconut palms marched into the jungle.

Chuong, our guide, took the wheel as our captain hacked holes in green skinned coconuts and we drank the fresh milk though a straw. They were huge and my determination to drink every drop resulted in a tour of toilets on the delta, some of them not too savoury. One lurked behind a cage containing an enormous python sleeping off a recent meal that bulged in his body. In the Mekong Delta the Vietnamese keep pythons as pets to eat the rats that share their muddy habitat. I kept my distance when his little brother appeared draped over the shoulders of a pretty local girl and we were encouraged to replicate her pose for the purpose of picture taking.

We left the boat and walked through the jungle to visit a coconut wood workshop. Here they made every imaginable item from jewellery to furniture in this light wood. We were then transported in carts pulled by ponies to a small sweet factory where coconut flesh was crushed and then boiled to make coconut toffee. Four girls sat round a large table sheltered from the sun (and rain) but a rood of palm leaves as their quick fingers deftly wrapped the sticky squares in different coloured papers according to the flavour. An invitation to sample these treats was accompanied by a disclaimer regarding the extraction of fillings.

We went further up the creek in a sampan easing our way through the dense undergrowth the silence broken only by the swish of oars in the water. I was in the same sampan as Chuong our guide, his cheeky grin partly obscured by the leather cowboy hat pushed down over his face. He was a bundle of energy and not content to sit back while our helmsman punted us slowly along. He grabbed an oar and began to propelling us forwards and we were soon encouraging him as we played dodgems with the boats ahead of us.

This journey ended at an open-sided restaurant surrounded by a large pond full of beautiful pink lotus flowers. Whole fish propped upright were brought to the table their mouths still open in surprise at their capture. Young girls scooped off the flesh and deftly wrapped it with a selection of green leaves inside an edible cover that resembled cling film, Vietnamese spring rolls. The men wanted to take the girls home – to prepare and serve their food, of course.

Returning from the backwaters it was time for our daily dose of temple. Chuong assured us that this pagoda was different from any we had seen before. His eloquence won us over and we did gasp in astonishment as we approached this pagoda under the watchful eye of two enormous statues of Buddha – a standing Buddha towered above representing the Present and beyond him we could see the Future a fat, cross legged laughing Buddha. The majority of Vietnamese are Buddhist but their culture totally embraces ancestor worship and driving through a vast expanse of paddy fields we could see that many of the strips of cultivated land were protected by the tombs of their ancestors.

Exhilarated by his success at the temple Chuong kept up a commentary all the way back to the bustling city of Saigon (officially Ho Chi Min City). He pointed out the narrow-fronted buildings with their elaborate balconies and patios at the front but blank, windowless walls at each side in anticipation of another one being built alongside. Shops and offices occupied the ground floors of these buildings and the living quarters extended back and above them, sometimes four storeys high. The unusual architecture was a legacy of the French occupation.