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Let's face it - we all indulge to a greater or lesser degree in some form of alcoholism from time to time. Many of us perhaps spend too much time chugging the suds, but then again, there's not that much else to do. So I decided to investigate the various outlets that tempt us and the most popular beer brands we all enjoy. It was a tough assignment, but hey, someone had to do it. I started out at the sharp end - a Bia Hoi (fresh beer) garden on Le Thanh Ton street in Saigon. It was ten a.m. and the joint was jumping. Hundreds of red-faced Vietnamese of all ages seated on small stools at tiny tables were creating the sort of clamour I would usually associate with closing time in a North London boozer on a Friday night. I took a table - alone, none of my erstwhile colleagues, hardened drinkers all, cared to join me this early in the day - and ordered a glass of the finest Pacific Beer. And in fact it really wasn't that bad, especially when you consider the cost: just VND 6K per 25 ml glass. Savouring the flavour, I requested another to soothe the shakes that had been apparent since I'd got out of bed that morning, emptied the glass and took my leave of the beer garden. Verdict? A decent, cost effective cure for the DTs but not a place really frequented expats, so perhaps not altogether relevant to the task at hand. So I set off to seek out like minds and faces in the city's numerous watering holes. Just around the corner on Thi Sach is a favoured tavern for many an expat in Saigon. At this American bar & grill I felt sure I would find what I was looking for. Indeed, as I entered the venue I felt immediately welcome as I took a vacant stool at the bar and placed my order. Seated to my right (it was now ten-thirty in the morning) was a sociable fellow of Scots extraction enjoying his third or fourth Bacardi & coke, to my left a morose American was nursing a glass of red wine. I felt right at home as I sipped away, the level of the glass dropping as my spirits rose. As I was leaving, a couple of roughnecks headed back to the oil patch (Vung Tau) were ordering eight gin & tonics to takeaway - it can be a thirsty two-hour journey down there. By now it was noon so I decided to check out the lunchtime drinking habits of those who take their work more seriously than many. So I headed to a favourite pub in the neighbourhood and settled in to observe. The lunchtime crowd was a mixed bag - a few suits on short breaks grabbing a sandwich while the regulars huddled around the tiny bar. As others were tucking into some hearty Irish fare, I placed my lunch order - soup - it's easy to digest and goes down well with the beer. Who was drinking what? Well, the suits tended toward soda & ice, while those of us who take these things seriously were enjoying pint glasses of Guinness and various local brews. Personally, I was sipping slowly on a Halida beer, a decent Hanoi beer which, along with Bia LaRue, offers a tasty alternative to some of the international poisons available around town in draught form. Which incidentally brings me to my pet beer rants: a) Why does one globally famous brand insist in offering its Saigon customers a brew which all too often smells and tastes really quite stomach-churningly awful? Back home I enjoy their beer, and when it's good in Vietnam I still enjoy a glass or two. I just can't bring myself to order it here anymore. And, b) Why do all of my favourite brews cost me around twice as much in this city than I pay in the capital, let alone what I pay when on the road in Vietnam? It just doesn't seem right. OK, back to our studies. Having finished my lunch I sloped off to a favourite afternoon spot for a lazy few hours of slow but steady imbibing. I headed underground. The lights were soothingly low, hassles and annoyances from the world outside blessedly absent (my cell phone doesn't work here - providing a great excuse for all of you skivers out there) and I thought about trying my hand at the pool table. I thought about it. But I decided that in the interests of getting you this story I had better stick to my brief. So I ordered another beer. All too suddenly it was six p.m. so I headed - a little unsteadily - around the corner to a serious expat drinking venue. Again the crowd was mixed: Plenty of suits, more than a few media types pretending they've just left the office and really had some work to do in the afternoon, a smattering of tourists and of course the lovely staff making sure everyone's glass was kept permanently filled while making patently false promises to all and sundry. Sustenance was becoming ever-more urgent by this time so I headed North once again to another popular expat drinking establishment where I knew I could always get a great pizza straight from the oven. A rugby game was playing on the large screen TV and the venue was busy with fans of the game. Scoffing my tasty dinner in almost no time at all, I headed back to the fray at yet another expat favourite a short stroll along Ly Tu Trong. The rugby was on here too and had again attracted a large crowd. Settling down to enjoy a few Tigers at special "World Cup" prices, I watched the second half of the game although by this time I was a little unsure as to who was playing whom. In fact it could have been soccer for all I knew. Whatever, I was having a nice time. Eventually I had to take my leave - in fact I think I was advised to - so, with my choices now limited by both sobriety and the clock, I headed to backpackerville - Pham Ngu Lao. Here I found a welcome at several tidy bars where I jostled for space amid throngs of strangely dressed people from all corners of the globe. I was now running out of time, options and money, so I grabbed a couple of sandwiches (excellent Chicken Mayo at Long Phi and a superlative Egg Mayonnaise from Sahara), headed home, passed out and awoke next morning with half a baguette stuck to each ear. Such are the rewards for investigative journalism in Saigon. By Mark Lindesay
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