The Traveler’s New Clothes

I landed in Hanoi late on the 5th Sept and the taxi driver kindly taught me a few words of Vietnamese on the way. He also offered to take me for 'Lady Boom Boom'; ‘No, no; Sleepy room room’. The hotel was grand but had no lift so I had to climb 4 flights of stairs before I panned out in a heap.

I was staying in the old quarter so the following morning I took a wander to get my bearings. The streets were manic...with mopeds/cars/truck/cyclos, even laundry, and an array of cooking stalls...the sidewalk a constant obstacle course. I eventually made it to the liquid centre of the old quarter, a big-ass lake which is famed for having magic turtles that make an appearance every year or so. Most think this is just a publicity stunt but stories of legend are still told and one of the Turtles mummified bodies is on display.

You could spend all your time just wandering aimlessly as there is always some shop/restaurant/conman/park/French cafe to help you pass the time (The French left a strong cultural influence behind them). Later I went to see a water puppet show (http://asiaforvisitors.com/vietnam/north/hanoi/waterpuppets.html)...a sort of oriental punch and Judy. Good fun but full of Japanese tourists who are too busy taking photos to actually watch the performance. I gave them my Teacher look of disapproval...they took a picture of me!

The Vietnamese themselves are generally less friendly than the Thais/Loase. Also, the street traders were more direct, as in ‘you have money, I don’t, give me some’. Even after a deal was struck they seems unhappy and hard done by. Some lad wanted to put new rubber soles on my well worn flip-flops, and nearly cried when I wouldn’t let him.

That evening I was in my Hotel when I heard a meelee down stairs, 'our kid' must be in I thought i.e. my mate Jon had arrived to find the hotel was booked out even though he had a reservation. After some banter Jon moved Hotel and we met up with his friend Steve who had flown in from his base in Manilla. Jon, Steve and I would travel Vietnam together. After a few beers we began to realize that 2 weeks in Vietnam just simply wasn't enough and decided to visit Halong bay, Hue, Hoi An and HCMC. ‘Hue’ is pronounced ‘whay’ not ‘Huw’ I was informed over the laughter.

In Hanoi we went to the Ethnology museum which 'simulates life in the provinces' of Vietnamese ethnic minorities but also has an excellent history of the communist style distribution of food and the ranking system they used to decide who got what. The higher up in the government you were the more you got. Local tribe cultural exhibits celebrated a simple but rich agricultural life.

Later we when to a high-rise ex-Pat club that has Karaoke, lead by a troupe of Filipino girls, and Salsa dancing. Jon wasn't feeling well but Steve loved it and stayed on Salsa dancing in to the wee hours (he used to own a salsa club in Beijing). Early next morning we set out for an overnight on a Junk in Halong bay.

Halong Bay is a dense cluster of 1,969 monolithic limestone islands. The views are stunning and we had gone for the higher end tour so the accom and grub was good. We chilled on the boat for the day and went swimming at sunset in open water. The water, the weather, the scenery, time itself, was perfect…I took a moment. The sight of the mature gay German couple in speedos was the only, erm, crack in my serenity.

The tour guide, a young lad of 21, tried to get a singsong going later but failed miserably. He could only sing romantic mushy stuff and was literally ‘wrecking our buzz’. They only sold spirits by the bottle on board, and a request for just a measure lead to involved discussions on the art of customer service, one of Steve’s favorite subjects. I had another beer and we all retired to listen to the air-conditioning motor for the night.

The following day we did a bit of canoeing. Jon, being the anarchist that he is headed off in the opposite direction to the guide as soon as he hit the water. I followed behind. After an hour of exploring we started heading back to the boat…followed all the way by the guide whistling at us. Apparently he was trying to get our attention. We had words when we got back to the boat…cultural differences be damned, you whistle to get a dogs attention. He smiled and totally missed the point…I warned Jon that I may need to be restrained if he did it again. ‘Pet hates’ travel with you I guess.

After a quick lunch we headed back to Hanoi and then straight for the airport for our flight to Hue. It’s a nice enough city with a restored Citadel and a few noteworthy Emperor tombs. Jon was still sick so finally decided to go to the hospital. An ould boy from the Hotel took him down, which is just as well because the Doctors spoke better French than they did English. They tested him for half a day, gave him a truck load of drugs and sent him on his way.

The nightlife in Hue is not up to much but we did visit a few bars. We had a run in with a few cyclo drivers who didn’t know the difference between 8 and 80…until after the trip! In true scam fashion we paid them to get rid of them. Nice place but forgettable.


From Hue we bussed it to Hoi An, a beautiful old World Heritage town just minutes from the sea. It is famed for being the back drop for ‘The Quiet American’ starring Michael Caine. Here we kicked back, swam in the pool, got some clothes made, perused art galleries and got to know the locals. Steve, a serial networker, discussed business ideas with the local owner of a Salsa club. We went out to visit an undeveloped stretch of beach he owned and went for a swim. Later, I gave a lesson in Irish dancing to the girls working behind the bar…after 3 Mojitos. I did some Salsa dancing but it wasn’t pretty.

While on the beach we met a Aussie, Dave, who’s missus ran a Tailor shop, one of about 100 in town. He gave us loads of tips on were to eat and discussed his latest film scripts. (he was writer who had come to Hoi An for solitude and stayed for a woman). His wife/partner kindly kitted us out in shirts and trousers for a few hundred dollars. (After 2 washes they are now looking kinda filmsy! Buyer beware!)

On the final day we headed off to the Angkor ruins My Son (pronounced Mai San). We had stayed out too late the night before so were late for the minibus and poured ourselves onto the bus. We arrived at the ticket office only to find Jon had no dosh and I was 10,000 dong (80 cent) short for the two. In disbelieving laughter we begged the money off some nice English couple. The tour was good but hot and sticky, so a sit down to watch a traditional dance show was welcome relief. Jon had been to Cambodia so this was a Lego land version for him so we decided to chill at the café and wait for the bus…the others went out to see more ruins. We were approached by a persistent driver whose job it was to ferry people out to the entrance, eventually we went with him, ended up in the wrong place, missed the tour minibus, and got stranded 60km from Hoi An. Jon went mental; nobody wanted to know and insisted it was our fault, and a taxi would cost us 50 dollars. Eventually I talked nicely to one of the tourist office women who asked a few Vietnamese tourists, who were heading our way, to give us a lift. For 200,000 dong (15 dollars) they agreed.

In their jeep was; Mum, Dad, daughter, her husband and his friend; son and driver. We shared the back seat with the Dad who was wantin to be practicing his English. His daughter lived in the States and he was moving there next year. He was ‘a very important man’ in a Co-op bank and had no idea now they would survive without him. We had a 2 hour chat with him and the family before safely arriving at our hotel. It was a bizarre and wonderfully surreal experience. Then we had our picture taken with all the family before retiring to the pool; it had been a memorable day.

Next day we flew from Danang to HCMC, de Capital. A nice hotel, a sauna+massage, a few drinks and the first day was over. The following day we went to see the War Remnants museum.

Currently Vietnam has a Tiger economy and an infrastructure better than Irelands. The past wars and invasions by 5 different nations is not forefront in their minds. However, Ho Chi Min is still the ‘number one top man in the whole of Vietnam’. They have a deep resolve to succeed, no doubt born from years of struggle. The War Remnants museums recount the horrors of war in pictures from photographic journalists from around the world. Especially shocking is the exhibit covering agent orange and napalm victims, but not as harrowing as pictures of the massacres. I had to retreat to the children’s art room for fear of being overcome with sadness. I couldn’t cope with the thought of it let alone imagine what it was like to live through it. They remember the past but strive for the future; a remarkable people. This doesn’t mean I’d like to start a battle cry against the Americans; both sides lost themselves to the violence.

Another testament to the ingenuity of this nation is the Cu Chi tunnels. 270km of underground tunnels that was used by the resistance during American occupation. Digging holes or having dens is part of every young lad’s childhood (or should be) so the tunnels appealed to the ‘kids’ in us. We excited climbed down into the (widened) tunnels. At one stage Jon’s broad shoulders got him stuck but a quick shove sorted that out. We crawled to the kitchen and had green tea and some nutty rice squares like the soldier boys used to. A reconstructed village near by and a holy shrine to local casualties combined to make it one of the most engaging outings of the trip.

It was around this time I got an email from home, my Mum had been taken into hospital suffering from dehydration, ring home now. How serious is this ‘dehydration’? From that point on I just wanted to get home. My flight home was still a few days away. I flew back to Bangkok with Jon while Steve flew back to Manilla. We spent 2 days pounding the street, hanging out, mostly playing pool and chatting to the ladies. Finally on the 20th Sept I boarded the plane with a strong yearning for home and a certain anxiety for what I might find.

Yours Homewardboundly,
M.

“If an ass goes travelling he will not come home a horse.” Thomas Fuller