Email journal from Vietnam - December 05

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26th December 2005 Email Journal

It was an intense first night in Hanoi - a real assault on the senses. I also got my testicles grabbed by a passing bloke on a scooter. I was all up for exuding cultural sensitivity, treading lightly and with humility in a country that no-one could even visit 20 years ago - and then someone goes and grabs your jiblets on Christmas Eve. It’s not what you want really.

The exploitation inevitably continued in the financial sense, repeatedly paying double or sometimes 10 times more than the surrounding passengers/diners/shoppers etc… I guess it comes with the skin colour but knowing the income of the guys you deal with makes it easier to ignore the extra few dollars. All I heard about Vietnam before arriving was moaning about crime and rip-offs, and yeah it’s annoying, but there’s more to a country than getting paranoid, stingy and fulfilling a stereotype. The currency is ‘dong’ here, and 100,000 is only about 4 quid, so you feel like a millionaire at the ATM. And when a hostel is under a £1 a night, it’s not so from the truth.

I took the train across South China from Hong Kong to Nam, it gobbled up two of my days but it was a cool experience and I didn’t get the aviation-fuel-guilt. It was a true Run-Lola-Run-esque last-minute affair, just making the next train or bus in time. From my doorstep in central HK, it was a train, another train, a taxi, an overnight train, another train, another taxi and then a bus. Quite scary and a real pain in the ass, but great fun. No-one along the way spoke English and lots of hand gesturing and map prodding was required. The trains were decked out with red carpet and mini electric heaters, giving them a 1980s-elderly person’s-living-room atmosphere. Majestic music was pumped into the carriages at random intervals which reminded me of the tune you hear when you press ‘demo’ on old keyboards - only more triumphant and irritating. I’m not exactly inspired to spend a few months seeing China, it all seemed quite dark and depressing - I need to learn more about it. I’m considering heading up through China to Russia to get the Tran Siberian Express home next year though!

Along the way I joined forces with an old French-Canadian vagabond called Rich, who’d seen the whole world mainly by bicycle. He became less Canadian and more French as we went along, losing his temper with the notorious drivers and touts. Embarrassed, I tried to shake him off - something, as all travelers will tell you, has to be done occasionally. We ended up at the same hostel but I’m off to Halong Bay tomorrow, which I booked on the sly.

Yesterday was delightfully unfestive and instead of a Christmas meal I found a big dirty fry-up on offer at an Australian-run café. The place was plastered in signs insisting it was the first, original and real ‘Kangaroo Café’ and not to support other establishments that had plagiarised the name. I met the owner and the walls were testament to a man obsessed, and totally put me off returning. I’m staying in the capital, Hanoi, which is 30 hours by fast train from the biggest city Ho Chi Ming, so I’ll be checking out the South next year.

The roads are teeming with thousands of scooters and motorbikes - with air quality to match - the other 10% of vehicles on the road are ‘cyclo’ rickshaws and the occasional bus and car. Crossing the road requires a leap of faith - running is lethal, it’s best to slowly cross watching the oncoming stream of bikes whilst quietly praying. You have to trust they’ll drive around you, and since drivers here are more alert to each other’s crap road sense, I felt encouraged enough to ignore the warnings and give it a try. It makes me feel hardcore. For under a fiver, I rented a scooter yesterday and jammily escaped death a good dozen times. I ran out of petrol once but, as always, there was a random guy on hand with a Pepsi bottle full and a 1000% mark up.

On Saturday, I saw the celebrated Vietnamese Water Puppet show, a kind of musical theatre dating back to the 12th century when folks used to entertain the other villagers when the paddy fields flooded over. It was definitely the best Vietnamese Water Puppet show I’d seen, recently anyway and certainly in my all-time-top-10. I thought it’d be a Mickey-mouse Punch-and-Judy effort but it was in a cool theatre and the show was world renowned. Basic storyline was a famous local legend about a bunch of guys in a boat who have their sword stolen by a golden turtle, but the turtle returns it after a bit and everyone lives happily. So pretty true to life. It was all skillfully performed with the characters dancing above some green water, there was even a bit of slapstick comedy which made me think about how easily the hilarity of smacking another chap over the head with a basket crosses all boundaries and cultures.

In a highly productive day, I also saw the Hanoi ‘Hilton’ this weekend which is an old prison - now museum - where the French colonialists kept revolutionaries and other troublemakers. It came complete with two guillotines and various torture paraphernalia. During the American war, it became a PoW jail for captured US pilots and the information plaques highlighted how well the American prisoners were treated.

The propaganda continued at the Air Force Museum, which was fantastic and featured a smashed up American war plane structure. You’d have to see the photo, but it was mainly displays of US military toys and magnificent stories of how brave Vietnamese soldiers seized planes and tanks and generally kicked ass. I’m sure it was a little exaggerated, but I’d buy Vietnamese propaganda over American any day - plus, these guys actually won.

At the Women’s Museum, each floor was testimony to the courageous and heroic work of ladies during the war. It was cool, though the tales of how random women took down entire aircraft with something like a pea shooter was a little hard to believe. I moved on to the Temple of Literature which would’ve been nicer if the rain hadn’t have kicked in. It’s still lovely and warm, but quite drizzly. This morning, I saw the markets - which was one long photo opportunity - and the cathedral, which was busy with the hustle and bustle of worshippers parking up their bike and paying a festive visit.

Staying true to my culinary wimpyness, I’ve been sticking to vegetable soups, pizzas and the like. Scooby Doo is very much on the menu here - seeing locals with a fresh bit of dead dog on the back of their bikes is commonplace, but for now, Lassie will remain man’s best friend to me rather than supper. Chicken, however, is very much off the menu because there aren’t any - the country is the heart of Avian Flu and I think that’s why there are so few tourists. It’s mainly old French couples, very few independent travelers of my age knocking around. At the dilapidated border crossing with China, I had to buy a medical check before entering. Indeed, I paid for it and got an approved ticket but didn’t actually have the said medical check. I’m sure the world will be reassured that the authorities are taking the potentially deadly epidemic seriously. All good fun.

I see though that it’s actually Gary Glitter who’s making the headlines for Nam. He apparently was recognized at the airport and defended himself by saying the kid slept in his bed as she was afraid of ghosts. Indeed Gary, sure, and if I was a convicted paedophile, I’d probably move to SE Asia too, you big guilty shit.

Got a few more days here, gonna have me a bargainous suit made up, go on some tours and treat myself to a super cheap 4* hotel for one night. Then it’s the fun-and-games epic journey back home to Hong Kong next week! Brilliant.

Miss you all… Merry Christmas.
Tom =o) x


5th January 2006 Email Journal

In my last few days in Hanoi, I checked out the much-raved-about Ethnology museum, feigned interest in pottery for an hour and moved on to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. In true Communist tradition you can see the man himself, who liberated Vietnam from the French colonialists, perfectly preserved. Everything is named after him, including a city, and his face gleams at you on every bank note, bearing a remarkable resemblance to the KFC colonel.

The strict authoritarian controls on how one actually views the body were quite special. Bags, cameras, mobiles, hats etc… were all disallowed, scruffy visitors were thrown out as was anyone who talked, raised their hands or stepped out of the two-by-two lines we were ordered to march in. I thought I’d kept to all the rules until I was reprimanded for having the nerve to tie my jumper around my waist. We were kept waiting in lines and then steadily channelled around the transparent glass case, which was surrounded my immaculate guards in white uniform and various communist emblems. Inside lay the man himself, who’d actually asked to be cremated and scattered in the Mekong River rather than ‘preserved’, he was of course very pale and had wispy white hair. Ho was fresh from his annual three-month trip to Russia where they re-embalm him. I guess it was a little creepy, I’d have liked a longer look but whenever I stopped moving I received a forceful prod in the hip from one of the ever-present and jumpy guards, complete with shiny AK-47s. He’s a hero across the country but I guess it’s worth remembering that he also created somewhat of a repressive police state.

The famous one-pillar pagoda and Ho Chi Minh museum were also part of the complex; the latter featured a Ford Edsel crashing through a wall, an American commercial failure symbolising their military failure. It was the typical propaganda I’d seen in most of the museums, but it looked as if they were in the process of closing this exhibit. Seems that they’d realised it may be offensive to the tourist dollar so such displays are being toned down.

Defied death and rented another motorbike for the day, went off on a random road into the countryside in an effort to some of the ‘real’ Nam. Got lost several times, saw a corpse on the back of a bike, photographed a cool black church under construction, rode into a few villages and had a drink in a random back alley pub - much to the bemusement of the local drunkards. Fantastic. I learnt that the roads are 90% motorbikes because there’s 200% tax on cars - if a car is $10k, you’re hit with $20k tax! Also, I found out that there are pretty much no rules on the road, and no-one’s ever heard of anyone being pulled over for speeding. Whilst riding along, I went with the flow skipping red lights and often forgot to ride on the right - though it seemed I was in good company as everyone else was veering all over the highway. Amongst the chaos it’s hard to believe that it was all bicycles just 10-15 years ago.

Back in Hanoi, in my globe trotting arrogance, I like to think I know most the cons going, so I was forced to eat my hat with a side order of humble pie when I got seemingly scammed on the road side. Just as I was returning the scooter I’d hired, I paused and a passer-by crouched at my front wheel and showed me that I had a puncture. I was all grateful and relieved as he directed me to the puncture-repair-dude near by. It hadn’t clicked that random people can’t just ‘spot’ a puncture in the dark, let alone put their thumb over the exact hole, and that suffering such misfortune just 5 metres from the appropriate repair bloke was a little too convenient. I bargained down to half his offer but it was an hour before the ‘hangonna-minute’ moment kicked in. Fair doos to puncture dude and his pal. =o)

Halong Bay is a lush world heritage site of about 3000 rocks and islands protruding from the sea - a really strange, dream-like landscape. I took a two day junk boat tour with a bunch of couples including two really cool Brits. We saw some awesome caves lit-up for tourists; the path was punctuated with penguin shaped bins every 10 metres, which was an odd addition to the setting. Also went kayaking into a misty ring of rocks, which was unforgettable - the echo was especially cool, it must’ve took a good second or two before my yelling was reflected. Some of the formations were really weird, and it made me wish I’d paid attention in geography. The only sound was from birds of prey circling above. Unfortunately the weather was a bit manky but we chatted with two Chinese couples as the boat docked for the evening.

It’s only recently that most Chinese people have been allowed to travel abroad - there’s still a list of ‘approved countries’ and in many places they have to travel in tour groups, and pay a big deposit to ensure they don’t piss off never to return. If a tourist does-a-runner, the booking agent is shut down. Such an oppressive state but we hear little about it nowadays. The slaughter of 20 peaceful demonstrators by the police recently - the worse atrocity since Tiananmen - escaped the mainstream news in favour of slightly-inconvenienced-New-Yorkers. The Chinese girls we spoke to saw little wrongdoing in their government and they just felt it was so great to suddenly see so much development and prosperity around the country. The booming economy is seen as all good, one of the girls was just buzzing with excitement as she spoke about the changes in Shanghai. I think it’s quite a typical attitude and my comments about state wide censorship did little to steal their sunshine. Perhaps we’d feel the same in their position. The girl’s partners were French ex-pats who had less sense of humour than

I settled into my cabin for the night and dismissed the strange noises I heard as standard ‘boat noises’. I’d never slept on a boat before so wasn’t familiar with what sounds they generally made. Unpacking my emergency-back-up-biscuits (which I carry to compensate for questionable local food) I turned around and noticed a huge black rat scuttling up my door. Since when could rats climb walls, let alone be the size of my head?! It was very big and scampered really fast through a large gap in-between the on-suite door. As I assessed the possibility of the mammoth rodent invading my biscuit stash, eating my sleeping bag, the potential for rabies and the thing scurrying across my face, I reluctantly sought to flag up my apprehension to our eccentric tour guide.

We were only just learning how to deal with our guide, ‘red hair’, who was a student of my age. The problem was that she’d passionately embraced sarcasm - possibly from experience with tourists - yet failed to understand it. We’d ask questions like ‘what time do we need to get up’, and would be told ‘5am’ - we then had to judge if she was lying again. All good fun, but she wasn’t kidding when she said there was nowhere else to sleep. I managed two hours sleep kipping on the bench in the bar.

Returning to Hanoi again for New Year, I moved hostels in the hope of finding some other solo backpackers rather than couples and old men. The chicken flu epidemic meant that tourism was 50% down and this was clear from how quiet the tourist hot-spots were. I even ended up at a brilliant smoky late night jazz club on my own - I felt quite the vagabond. However, I checked into the Aussie-run Hanoi Backpackers at the weekend and found lots of folks touring Southeast Asia - mainly Australian, some Dutch, Danish, Brits, Israeli and Columbian. The latter suffered lots of good-humoured stereotyping and mild-racism as people joked that he was the only Columbian they'd met who wasn’t a prostitute or criminal. But as we drank up on New Year's Eve, even the guys started to distance themselves from him as he forcefully went on the pull. It was a real spectacle watching him insist and demand that one of the Dutch girls join him. At midnight we gathered around Hoan Kiem Lake, wrongly thinking there would be fireworks; we then ended up at Barracuda Bar on the banks of the Red River, which was a bit rough around the edges but full of backpackers partying on the cheap local beer.

The Aussie girls had their bags slashed the next day and another French guy got his whole backpack stolen for the 3rd time in his trip. It was the old distract-and-pillage; I've never had a problem with theft but perhaps after three times this guy somewhat deserved to lose his cash, clothes, passport, dignity et al...

Animal welfare isn’t exactly high up on the Vietnamese list of priorities. Amongst various horror stories, I was told of a chap scrapping the skin off a cat in the gutter only to spot a foreigner and make the scraggly limp body dance as he chanted ‘cat cat cat’. Lovely. At the end of the month thousands of locals gather at the ‘Dog Restaurant Road’ as feasting on a canine can bring good luck for the coming month. And they like it fresh. Look out Scoobs.

Not used to having spending money whilst travelling, I did some tourist-tat shopping on the last day. The streets of Hanoi are divided into 'Hangs' or merchant streets - so if you want silk, shoes, sunglasses, a flag, a gravestone etc... you know where to go. It's the same deal in most countries I've visited, even HK, yet despite the convenience it always seems like bad business sense to me. Apparently the locals are clued up on who is the best and stay loyal to a particular vendor.

I bought dozens of CDs, under 20p each, and put them in a case as the HK authorities apparently impose huge fines for each one bought back. I got away with it. It was weird to think of returning to HK as ‘going home’, but since I had to do the 3 trains, 3 taxis, 1 bus palaver again backwards, it seemed more significant. The minibus driver to the border did some deadly over-taking of a car that was already overtaking a car. Reading the small print on the departure card I noticed that along with the usual forbidden items - explosives, meat, porn, antiques etc… - I was forbidden from importing/exporting “toys that may harm the development of a child”. Que!?

Admittedly, the overland trip was terribly organised on my part - I didn’t pre-book anything or even exchange any currency. I got my comeuppance when I was told there were no tickets on the 15-hour overnight train across China - thankfully, I got a standing ticket, paid a guard on board and ended up with a carriage of sleepers to myself. It was spoilt only when I trod in human shit which had been deposited around the squat toilet - it appeared that someone had aimed and missed. A day before I was due in school, I rushed to make the last leg of the journey and had to use diagrams, hand actions and maps to convey ‘Guangzhou East Train Station’ to the taxi driver. I’d survived and even cheated avian flu.

Despite the rancid pollution, poverty (US$200 a month is a decent wage in Hanoi) and wacky communist government, the Vietnamese were always polite and smiling - even when hassling the crap out of you. And from what I've learnt about the American War, it's impressive how much determination can make up for inferior military might. It was before my time and wasn’t taught at school, but the more I learnt about it the more it seemed reminiscent of what’s happening today - an unjust war with an invisible ‘threat’ of communism/terrorism.

The North was one big photo op - so I’ll be uploading some snaps and video soon. I'll be going to the South next summer and shall continue on to Laos, Cambodia and Thailand over a few months. I’ve apparently personally saved 0.86 acres of rainforest by not taking a flight - I can take solace in a clearer conscience this time but will probably pay a carbon neutral donation/fine and fly next year. The trip offered some clarity and reminded me how much I love travelling; it made me feel better about HK too, as having gone through China it’s clear that HK is definitely a diluted version of Asia with all the tricky and crap bits filtered out. Plus, it’s a buzz to have all these cool places on your doorstep.

Happy New Year dudes!!!
Tom x =o)

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