The Hefty Mid-Section of Vietnam

Hue and the DMZ: Where the History Is

Hue is the historic center of Vietnam, and not altogether to far from the geographic one. At its heart lies the imperial city, built in honor of the long line of kings that ruled in the region. The walls are imposing and the scope of the old city looms large, but it's not particularly old by most of the world's standards. It was built in the 19th century. That said, it is still an impressive site that give the impression of an ancient pedigree. We really wanted to see more, but it was so hot. I misread my thermometer, thinking it said 48 degrees, but as it turns out it was only 46. I know, the shame of it all.

A gripe about temperatures: Daily highs are measured in the shade. Why? Who gets to hang out in the shade all damn day. So officially, 37C...in reality, to borrow from Good Morning Vietnam:

What's the weather like out there? "It's hot! Damn hot! Real hot! Hottest things is my shorts. I could cook things in it. A little crotch pot cooking." Well, tell me what it feels like. "Fool,

In Bloom
from the inside of one of the city's many small temples.

it's hot! I told you again! Were you born on the sun? It's damn hot! It's so damn hot, I saw little guys, their orange robes burst into flames. It's that hot! Do you know what I'm talking about?" What do you think it's going to be like tonight? "It's gonna be hot and wet! That's nice if you're with a lady, but ain't no good if you're in the jungle!"

Earlier in the day we went in search of two things: Stop and Go Cafe, where Darren's friend Grant recommended we book a tour to the DMZ with a fellow named Anh (contact me if you want his direct info), and searching to replace a contact case that seemed to have freed itself from my clutches. It's hard to describe actually just how frustrating it can be to search for something in a place where even those who know English, don't know enough to help you with such a specific set of words: contact lense case. That, and the fact that most everywhere in the city sells contact lense fluid, but no one seems ever to put that fluid into anything. After walking around to numerous chemists, as many optical shops, and playing an equal number of games of pictionary, I finally managed to find one place that sold them...they had myriad containers to choose from...perhaps the entire supply of the town's contact lense cases. We also, after some difficulty, managed to locate the cafe.

Like many things recommended by your friends, the prices grew enormously since Grant was here. We hummed and hawed about the price and walked around trying to convince others to join us so that the cost would be more manageable, but in the end, as we approached the cafe, we decided that while $60 is a lot of money in Vietnam, that wasn't so bad for what we were getting. So the next day we went on a DMZ (De-Militarized Zone) tour, guided by a fellow named An, who worked for the U.S. Military as a recon specialist for six years. We learned a good deal about the war, relations between North and South, and the down-low about life in Vietnam for the average person. His experience and stories, as well as his English skills, made the day well worth it. It was so worthwhile that we not only felt silly about considering not going, but we also tipped the fellow for his time.

Hoi An: A Shopper's Paradise That Even I Can't Pass By

Hoi An is a UNESCO site, a fact Hoianians are happy to point out and one that museum descriptions highlight with great frequency. "Oh, by the way, did you know Hoi An is a UNESCO site?" It's clear the people in this town are proud of it, and why not? It's a great little town with agood deal of character, great food, and shopping that would make any woman weep with joy...husbands may weep for other reasons, mind you, but it's hard to resist the lure...especially when even I gladly succumbed to the alluring prospects of buying a $600 made-to-fit suit for a fraction of that cost, and a great dress jacket made to my specifications as well for only $35. There were some deals to be had.

Darren and I were growing a bit annoyed with one another, mostly over a gross misunderstanding that we both had about the other's willingness to spend money. We walked around town for nearly an hour looking at crummy accomodations, both believing that the other was trying to scrimp and couldn't afford their share of a $20/night room. When we finally realized it, we couldn't be annoyed with one another anymore, but were still feeling that way. A couple of hours on our own perked us both up though.

On our second day, Darren went to My Son Temple (mini-Angkor) and I decided that my temple threshold might be well and truly breached with three days at Angkor Wat, so I decided on cooking lessons. Oh man, was the food good. Darren returned in time to join in on the feast of many unique and curious dishes, and even pick up a few pointers. I think I could replicate them with the right ingredients when I return home. It was so incredibly good. Ky, my teacher, was a sweet woman with a great smile, and an expert at a sport men know as fishing for compliments, which although annoying in the extreme, was somewhat endearing with my culinary maestro.

We finished off our shopping in the last part of the afternoon, way too full for this kind of heat. Went for a swim at our "fancy hotel," and then prepared to head out. There's a story I tell my students about Adam Smith, who was such a scatterbrain, that he would often have to be walked home, because he would begin daydreaming, wander off, become lost, and not be able to find his way home. Well, it seems I have become Adam Smith, at least in this regard. Lost in my own world, I walked past it and one of the street vendors asked (as is sooo common - it's easy to block out) "where you go?" When I ignored her and kept walking she said "Stop! You stay here!" Sheepishly I thanked her. Word must have gotten around because on the second day, the restaurant owner across the street did the same for me. This is not making mention of the fact that someone chases after me with my water bottle in tow at least 5 times a day.

On our last night Darren and I crossed over the bridge to have dinner on the islette of An Hoi (I know, original), and watched as some very small children on the other side of the river spent fifteen minutes throwing bricks meant for the construction of the esplanade into the river. One was so persistent, he threw everything that could possibly make any sort of splash. He was a terrible throw though, and nearly took out his own foot on more than a couple of attempts. In fairness, he was probably four, which made the spectacle all the more hilarious. The headline in the paper: "Small child arrested in sabatage debacle."

The Saigon By-pass: Attack of the Muzak

Getting up in the morning we left for Danang to catch our plane to Saigon. As we touched down, we realized that while there we no buses, we could catch a plane to Phnom Penh...which although pricey, would keep us from spending a day in a city not high on our priority list, and skip the 6 hour bus ride. So we bought the tickets, effectively leaving the bulk of southern Vietnam for another day. So while I found Hoi An impossible to by-pass, Saigon's siren song was turned off for long enough to let me be on my way.

The only point of confusion was in sending my suit home by mail. It was quite expensive and proved to be extraordinarily confusing, for so simple a process. So my hope is that it shows up sometime in the middle of May, and in Calgary, as opposed to say Botswana.

As we sat on the plane, motionless on the tarmac, music was kindly played for our enjoyment. Only it was a muzak version of Bryan Adams "Everything I Do (I do it for you)" OVER and OVER and OVER again. It played a minimum of five times. I made the best of it, and sang along with all the overacting that comes with old ballads. Darren thought it was hilarious at first, but I'm pretty sure one more repeat of the performance would have driven him over the edge. I don't know what his problem was, my pan-flute solo rocked!

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