Hong Kong to Bangkok summer 2002 – Part 5
I was quite sad to leave Hanoi. A truly fascinating city, full of a myriad of sight, sounds and smells. Somehow, despite the endless motorbikes, it retains a charming chilled out quality. A really intoxicating mix of old colonial mansions, chaotic markets, baguettes, noodles and old people doing early morning lakeside tai-chi (
A long route lay ahead of us, all the way down the coast of Vietnam, across Cambodia and into Thailand for a flight back in 5 weeks. We had to get moving (we being Felix, me and Rachel, a NZ wicker witch we met in China).
DRAGON BOATS AND THE DMZ
Our next destination was the old capital of Hue, some 700 km down the coastline. It took us two days on buses with an overnight stop. The road wound in and out from the coast. There were some very beautiful sections, especially by the ocean and, inland, more padi fields than I could count. Sustenance was maintained through noodles and some unidentified food at dingy bus stop-offs, one of which frequented by some awesomely friendly kids.
In Hue, Felix, Rachel and I squeezed into a tiny room complete with some seriously impressive wall rot and head out to explore the city. Right in the middle of Vietnam, Hue has been the chief city of various dynasties for centuries, leaving some really impressive sights. We were in luck, it was a national holiday, with two great benefits. Everything was free and, as we took a boat down the perfume river, we were greeted by the spectacle of mass dragon boat races.
We toured around a number of temples and palaces, including the Imperial City of the Nguyen emperors. Each of the sites was impressive, but I was particularly taken aback by a mausoleum covered with reverse swastikas, a symbol of Buddha bastardised by the Nazis.
The next day we set aside for the DMZ. Hue is in central Vietnam and very close to the front line between North Vietnamese and South Vietnamese/US troops, demarked by the DMZ (de-militarised zone). It was a very humbling day. So many Hollywood movies have focused on the hell hole of fighting in "Nam" and how it screwed up American troops. Our guide rightly focused far more on the what it did to the Vietnamese of both sides. The war left well over 3 million dead with the majority being civilians. Astoundingly horrible.
Our guide took us to the tunnels where Viet Cong and civilians hid out. One hole in the wall was labelled the "maternity ward". We then trekked along a section of the Ho Chi Minh trail (the famed Viet Cong supply line that was bombed to hell by the US, but somehow maintained), failing to hold ourselves back from singing the associated Robin Williams ditty.
At length I spoke to the guide, asking his views on the conflict. While he was fiercely critical of the Americans, he explained that US involvement was only one part of a much wider conflict against the French, Chinese and amongst the Vietnamese themselves. To my surprise, he said he no longer had an issue with the Americans, but hated the Chinese - "the Americans fucked us for 10 years, the Chinese have been trying to fuck us for 500".
TAILORS, A CRASH AND THE BEST BAR
After a night out a shaving some guy's hair off, I got the shits pretty bad. Almost recovered, we took the journey not too far south to the charming city of Hoi An. For the first time since Yangshuo, it was a place I really chilled out. We mainly stopped off for the famed tailoring. The cities specialists would make anything you want for a ridiculous price.
Not one to generally care about clothing, I still left with an extra 4 kgs of weight on my back, including a nice tailored suit for $40 (2 sets of pants as well), 2/3 metres of silk for my girlfriend and the silliest trousers in the world. I kid you not that the legs had 1.3 metre circumference each at the foot, "Jimbo" embroidering and hidden pockets.
Felix and I hired mopeds for the first time in our lives from a friendly old Vietnamese lady. It was exhilarating speeding around the surrounding padi fields, dodging potholes with a big grin. Predictably it did not end well. Felix confused the throttle with the break, spurted forward, skidded, spurted, stopped and then lurched forward into a lamppost. He took a bit of a knock and the bike a big scrape. On handing it back to the old lady, Felix received a big slap in the face. We paid for the damage, but she was understandably incensed by these stupid westerners.
Hoi An also had the most surprisingly wonderful bar I have ever visited - Tam Tam. No doubt that view emanated in part from a month of drinking shitty beer from small plastic chairs, but this place felt perfect. Worn leather chairs, big fans, perfect ice cold beer and a not too dodgy pool table. Perfect.
SAIGON AND ON TO THE DELTA
After a full night session, with a killer hangover and the shits, we jumped on the 6 am 13 hour significantly bumpy bus south to Nha Trang. It is fair to say it was not a pleasant ride, although I do recall probably the most stunning section of coast road, squeezed between cliffs, beaches and the open ocean.
We had left Rachel in Hoi An and were now travelling with Matt, an accountant who had packed it all in for a while. A day chilling by the beach and we jumped back on a bus south to Ho Chi Minh City, the former Saigon.
I found Saigon hectic, crazy, noisy, polluted and hot. I also had a great time. We spent a few days seeing the sights and drinking with locals until dawn. The latter mostly involved gallons of beer and ice (at approx USD 1 for 7 pints), small plastic tables and chairs by whizzing traffic and conversation about everything and nothing.
We could not but go to the Museum of American War Crimes. It was shocking. Alongside pieces of hardware, were sickening photos documenting the results of the bombing of civilians with napalm. There were even jars showing fetuses deformed by Agent Orange. It was all too much, No wonder I found the Vietnamese wary of foreigners. They have been screwed over like very few nations on earth and are understandably proud of their hard fought independence (not forgetting the atrocities that both North and South Vietnamese committed themselves). Such a complicated and difficult history, that I felt I had barely scratched the surface of.
After 3 weeks, our time in 'Nam had come to an end. We grabbed our bags, loaded into a car down bumpy, windy roads to the Mekong Delta and jumped on a long, wooden speed boat. We raced through the deep brown channels past banks of reed and palms and failing to spot river dolphins. It was stinking hot and humid, but a real experience. Our final stop was for lunch with a nice family on a small island, before speeding up the Mekong to one of the most "out there" border posts I have ever been to. Cambodia and some crazy times awaited.
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