As I wrote some months ago, one of the things I was looking forward to most about Vietnam was the chance to eat lots and lots of durian. I imagined that the spikey fruit would be everywhere once I'd crossed the border from China, and thought also that they'd be so cheap that I would feast on them every day.

Crushingly, as I quickly discovered, this was not the case. In Hanoi, vendors sold sickly-looking durian for almost as expensive as in China, and everyone I questioned on the subject told me I'd have to wait till I got down south to indulge my durian fantasies.

Luckily, they were all right. On my very first day in Saigon, I saw more durian being sold than I had in the entire rest of my time in Vietnam, and it was in Saigon that I found the bounty pictured above. As well as looking fantastic they were cheap too (30,000 dong - around $1.50 - per kilo), and so I bought a lovely little one-person sized specimen and retreated in glee to the shady environs of the botanical gardens.

From Saigon, I went to Ben Tre, a region of the Mekong Delta famous for its fruit. One of the main reasons I went there was to see durian trees, and though I wasn't successful in this mission (frustratingly, only because of time constraints), I did get to eat another two in the space of 24 hours. This was the first:

eaten on a boat as the sun set gloriously over the Mekong; and the second, the very next morning, from a roadside vendor as I waited for my bus back to Saigon, which, incredibly for a 1kg fruit, yielded 11 portions of fruit (usually you only get 5 or 6 in a durian of that size).

It's often noted that durian tends to inspire a love or hate reaction. But what is not so often related is how those that fall into the former camp tend to feel themselves part of a sort of exclusive club, one whose pleasures only its members fully understand.

That's how it feels to me anyway, and especially in Vietnam. Everytime I ate durian or talked about it with a fellow lover, their whole face would light up like a christmas tree. I saw it in Dai, my guide in Ben Tre, who told me about the different types of durian, the best season to eat them, and where they grow. I saw it too in the eyes of the old woman who walked past me as I ate durian in a Saigon park, who doubled back to ask me 'it good?' with a beaming smile. And I know also that it shows on my own face, as when the vendor in Ben Tre cracked open the amazingly bountiful durian and laughed hysterically at my reaction.

It might be a while before I get to eat as much durian as I've eaten in the last week - but I have these memories to sustain me till then.