Hue 15-20th May

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We arrived in Hue on the 15th, following a night train journey in the company of two Americans, father and son, father being into his 70's and a comic book amalgamation of at least half a dozen veteran hollywood actors, all weather-worn features and coiffured locks, and a nice guy to boot. We made our way to the hotel, located in the centre of town, and were amazed at how quiet the roads were after Hanoi. The difference was marked. Hue, it should be noted, is the former imperial capital of Vietnam, and by no means a small town, but the traffic was light compared with the present capital. This of course meant that it wasn’t quite as loud either!

Anyway, enough of me sounding like a boring old git, and onto Hue. As I mentioned, until 1945 Hue was the capital city of Vietnam, under the reign of the Nguyen dynasty. Nguyen, by the way, is the Vietnamese equivalent of Smith or Jones – everyone is called it, streets bear the name and restaurants too. The Nguyen dynasty built an impressive home in Hue, the Citadel, similar in design and layout to the Forbidden City in Beijing, though by no means as large or opulent. Essentially, it was a city within a city, much like its Chinese counterpart, with a thick wall and moat surrounding the perimeter. The Citadel lays to the north of the perfume river, and our hotel - together with most of the restaurants, shops and hotels, was in the south. The weather when we arrived in Hue was hot and humid, in the mid 30s and we decided to leave the Citadel for a day or two and make the most of the good weather and head to the beach.

We hired a motorbike from the hotel and after much shrugging of shoulders we climbed on, not really knowing how to get the thing going, keep it going, or stop it. Neither of us have ever been on a bike before, at least not on the front, and personally my approach to mechanics is similar to my approach to computers. If it works great, if not, don't ask me. I was expecting a stop and go style scooter, no gears, just a key, a throttle on the handle and room on the back for Mrs C. What I got was some kind of war-era Honda, with 4 gears, a distinct lack of working electronics, and more pedals, kick starts and foot rests than a centipede could satisfy. At length we set off, nearly taking a fruit stand and the hotel receptionist with us, and joined the main road. It was at this point that I realised that the roads were a bit busier at 9am on a Monday, than at luchtime on a Sunday. I also began to wonder where the brakes were. Long story short, after much weaving, kangarooing and general dangerous driving, we made our way through 15km of tiny villages to the beach.

It was hot and sunny and full of sand, I don’t need to say much more really, do I?

The way back was slightly more eventful though, as when we returned to the bike we realised it had a flat tyre. Ah. Now, our first, slightly cynical thought, was sabotage. Apparently it is not uncommon for this to happen, then lo and behold a friendly bike repairman appears with just what you need, for a small fee of course. But no, this was just plain bad luck. Someone at the beach managed to find a compressor, pumped up the tyre and waved five fingers rather manically at us to indicate how long he thought it would last before needing more air. 15km in 5 mins on a 50-year-old honda that I could barely sit on, let alone drive. Or pilot. Or sail, or whatever it is you do with motorbikes.

Needless to say, 5 minutes later I felt a rather alarming wobble coming from the back end. Unfortunately, Anja was still there, so it must have been the tyre. We pulled over and as luck would have it we were right outside a repair shop for motorbikes. I would later learn that this wasn't luck, but rather sheer opportunism on the part of most Vietnamese – if they have a toolkit, a bit of flat ground, and enough paint to make a sign, then they open a repair shop. Through much finger pointing (me) and hard work (the woman doing the repair) the inner tube was removed from the bike, revealing that this wasn't the first puncture the bike had suffered. Indeed, the inner tube had more plasters attached than the victim of a blind drunk acupuncturist. I felt strangely relieved to be honest, this was quite a normal occurence and nothing to do with my incompetence clearly. We were soon back on the road and hurtling uncertainly in the vague direction of Hue. Then, disaster struck! Another puncture, surely not? Less than 10 minutes down the road, the same tyre was flatter than a recently ironed pancake on a Dutch ironing board. So, we looked around and sure enough, not 30 feet from us was another repair shop. 10 minutes later, off we went, determined to make it back without stopping again. I made a minor exception for traffic lights (nobody else seemed to bother though) but otherwise make it back we did, slightly fraught from all the excitement, and silently promising to never hire a bike again.

The following day, we went to the Citadel.
We walked.
Obviously.

The Citadel, as well as being the former home to the ruling dynasty, is also the home to one of the most fierce battles during the War with America. Hue lies near the old border point between the communist North and the capitalist, or rather French (it’s not the same thing really!), South. As a result, things came to a head in this area, and the Citadel bears the scars of battle. The whole complex of buildings is only around 200 years old, but the damage and general run down nature of the place make it feel much older. The gardens are overgrown in many places, the buildings that remain intact are crumbling in places, universally pock-marked with bullet holes, and in the main the paintwork is at least 3 shades duller than originally intended. As we wandered around, climbing through doorways standing alone in a field, or passing locked gateways and doors, I began to feel as though I was walking around a set of a Terry Gilliam film, in some kind of deserted palace in a far away place. It is a strange place, but for all its rundwon appearance and faint air of disrepair, I liked it. I liked it a lot actually, more than the Forbidden City in Beijing strangely. I like the fact that after the war the place was left as it was found, damage and all. Why cover up what happened here? Admittedly, from a tourist's point of view, tending the gardens would be nice, and maybe clearing the leaves from the water once in a while wouldn't hurt, but for me they can leave the buildings to crumble and fade with time.

The following day, the 19th, we took a river boat cruise to visit some tombs and pagodas. We began buy visiting a traditional local house, which was all very nice but a touch contrived for my liking – I’m not convinced that it was that traditional. We then moved on to Thien Mu Pagoda, Hon Chen Temple, Minh Mang Tomb, Khai Dinh Tomb and finally the Tu Doc Tomb. Now, I would love to give you all a detailed account of each one, but if I am honest, it was a blisteringly hot day, and after a couple of hours they all began to blur into one tomb to be honest.
Here is what I do remember:
Each of the Emperors of the Nguyen Dynasty had these tombs built while they were still alive, in order to ensure that they had somewhere to go when they finally kicked the imperial bucket.
Without fail, each of the tombs was an impressive sight. They were universally set in the middle of lush green park land, surrounded by lakes and towering trees and all manner of statues – mostly elephants, lions, or “mandarins”. In all they were in far better shape than the more famous Citadel, but a tomb is a tomb is a tomb I’m afraid, particularly on a hot day. Still, it was a worthwhile trip, if only to learn that one Emperor, now thought to have been gay, failed to have a child with his first wife, so he took a second wife. This was all quite natural in those days of course, particularly for the Emperor. When Wife #2 failed to produce, along came #3. This continued all the way up to triple figures, before the Emperor finally conceded that maybe the wife wasn’t the problem after all. Bit slow on the uptake these Emperors at times.

The following day, Friday, was leaving day. We boarded a morning bus to Hoi An, a mere 4 hour run down the coast, where we decided to have a little break from all this travelling and take a little holiday. The main reason was that the hotel had a pool and it was red hot when we arrived. In fact, as I write this now on Thursday 26th May, we are still in the same hotel! So, we are almost up to date, and about time too.

Next time, Hoi An, Mr Phong and My Son!

There is a criptic way to finish a blog….

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Photos

Citadel
A doorway with no door

Our Boat
Not an actual dragon