A stout woman with a cache of consumables paddles up and asks what we want I order two coffees (a little condensed milk this time) for Anh Trường and myself. With the skill of someone who has done the trick a thousand times, he docks his boat with us, packs ice into a plastic cup, and pushes off again, disappearing downstream. Nearby, another vendor is pouring two bowls of hủ tiếu (noodle soup) for a pair of elderly women, who smile at me.
We pass very few human sights—hulking mechanics’ barges, floating petrol stations—but even they feel like essential pieces of this river puzzle. “The floating market used to be just outside Long Xuein,” An Trung tells me as we idle between two floating workshops, “but it got too big about 20 years ago and had to be moved further away. Then it got smaller and smaller.” I ask if one day it will disappear completely and he laughs. “Who knows?”
I don’t know either, but The tide points in both directions. Long Xuan’s floating market may float until it sinks completely, as others have throughout the Mekong Delta, or tourism may one day keep it afloat, as it has in Cai Rang. Whatever the future holds, those willing to venture off Vietnam’s well-worn tourist routes will have Long Xuan—and nearby Chau Đốc—almost entirely to themselves.