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Published: August 8th 2008
We arrived in Vietnam on a bus from Cambodia. The ride was fairly smooth, though the bus broke down at the border, and we spent a good hour and a half waiting for a new one to show up. The only reason I mention this is because while we were waiting for our new ride, I happened to chat with a guy from Eugene, Oregon, where I went to school. He had even frequented the same $1.50 movie theater as I; and I found it incredibly ironic to be talking to someone else from Eugene of all places, while stranded at a border in Southeast Asia...small world.
Whenever you cross a border you subconsciously suspect some great sign of change. In some sense this is simply psychological, as generally the geography and the land around you remain the same. However, there were some things I instantly noticed about Vietnam that differed from Cambodia. The buildings became narrower and taller; neat, clean, and painted in pastels. Also, as we began rolling through the suburbs of Ho Chi Minh City, I noticed the hammer and sickle flying on nearly every building.
We stayed in the backpacker area of Pham Ngu Lao,
in a bright, squeaky-clean hostel for only $10. Though our time in Ho Chi Minh was relatively short, we were able to do a lot of walking about the city. During our wanderings we became increasingly proficient in crossing the street, despite throngs of scooters, weaving in and out of other drivers at breakneck speed. The key is to simply step into the melee, confidently staring the oncoming drivers in the eye, and make a beeline to the other side without hesitation. This was quite different from China, in which pedestrians stop precariously between lanes of traffic to let the cars pass by, or Cambodia, where one just runs and hopes for the best. Supposedly, Ho Chi Minh City currently has over four million motorcycles/scooters clogging its streets, and judging from the chaos, that number seemed on the conservative side.
It was a very interesting place; and on our walk we passed by everything from old, French colonial buildings to sparkling new shopping complexes. In spite of the traffic and stifling heat, the city was fairly easy to get around, and we enjoyed it immensely.
Having not become accustomed to train travel in the country, we bought our
first ticket through a travel agent. We were booked onto an express train to Nha Trang, which meant that we were crammed into a coach with many other passengers, with the TV blasting Vietnamese pop music at top volume. Later, we learned to go to the station ourselves to buy tickets, and book the slow train instead. They would give us tickets stamped “foreigner”, and would segregate us in a car that was completely empty except for train staff. And more importantly, there is no TV on the slow train, so we could watch the scenery roll by in peace.
The train, aptly dubbed the Reunification Express, began running in 1975 after the fall of Saigon, reconnecting the North and South after the war. I don’t think much has changed since then; the coaches are old, shabby, and complete with resident cockroaches, and the meal is the same morning, noon, and night (rice, green beans, mystery meat). But I loved every minute of it, since Vietnam is quite possibly the most beautiful country I have ever visited.
Our first stop after HCMC was Nha Trang, most popular for its beautiful bay and strip of white sandy beach. The
Rice Paddies
Central Vietnamreal draw for us was the hope of more snorkeling, and the next day we rented a boat along with a Danish couple we had met on the train in order to visit some of the outlying islands. My only disappointment was that we couldn’t stay longer; there was a decent variety of coral and fish, and the water was exceptionally clear.
From there we took the train further north to Da Nang, Vietnam’s fourth largest city. Historically speaking, Da Nang was extremely significant during the Vietnam war, as it was home to a major air base for the U.S. Nearby My Khe Beach was a favorite retreat for troops on leave.
The city is extremely picturesque, straddling the Han river. However, unlike it’s neighbor, Hoi An, Da Nang is not a major stop on the tourist trail. This, in addition to its past history, seemed to make its residents
(at least in my opinion) some of the least friendly we encountered in the country. In general we found everyone, from the taxi drivers, waiters, hotel staff, and people we encountered on the street, to be quite surly.
The area around My Khe beach was in a
Rice Paddies
Central Vietnam strange state of transition. Just meters away from some very run down hovels, a strip of massive hotels and restaurants was being built along the beach. They were in various stages of construction, some only half-finished shells, and others open for business. All, however, were completely deserted. The beach was mostly empty except for a few romantic couples and some fisherman working on their boats. The sky was vast and steely gray. After getting jeered at by some construction workers hanging from the rafters of a nearby restaurant we returned, thankfully, to the peace of our hotel room.
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