Sixth & Seventh Week in Vietnam - Hoi An & Ho Chi Minh Trail

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The Ho Chi Minh (Saigon) to Hanoi railway connection to Mui Ne, the beach resort where we stayed a month, is about an hour’s drive into the countryside. We arrived a couple of hours early in sweltering heat. In the cool, high-ceilinged, mostly empty station Darla had an orange drink but it took me two cold beers to lower my body temperature. At 75 cents for a beer, cost is never part of the decision whether to enjoy one.

A taxi arrived after a while and out stepped a tall, elegant woman with short dark hair in white cotton pants and blouse pulling a red suitcase. She looked French, we thought. Turned out she is Russian, 46 years old (looked 36) and traveling alone in Asia since November. She was in our same train car for the overnight trip to Danang. We had lower berths in a 4-berth ‘soft sleeper’. Elena, our Russian tsarina, had an upper berth a few doors down.

We quickly found out that ‘soft sleeper’ did not mean clean sheets or even a clean cabin. I found a mop to swirl around in the cigarette ashes while Darla chased every uniform up and down the train for clean sheets. Eventually we finished nesting, opened our travel picnic bag and invited Elena over for some food and beers. She explained, slowly with help from us and much mirth, that she was just beginning to learn English. She was also able to tell us that most of the hordes of Russians in Vietnam are from Siberia - a short hop over China and there you are - and not from Moscow where she is from.

Our upper berth roommates got on at Nha Trang...a young handsome couple of Brit backpackers. By then it was dark and we settled in for the night. The official description of our car is ‘4-berth Soft Sleeper AC’. By the middle of the night we decided that ‘refrigerated car’ was a more apt description.

The next day the train was meandering through rice paddies surrounded by tall, abrupt, forested mountains. We spent a lot of time on sidings waiting for other trains to pass. Arriving in Danang was like the old days going overland from Europe to India. The train emptied about 80 backpackers all going to Hoi An - a designated Unesco World Heritage Site - a long-time Chinese trading post set on low land on a river delta with little bridges connecting to islands. It is also well-known as THE shopping destination in Vietnam.

There are a few hundred yellow-walled and clay-tiled roof heritage houses in the magical, centuries-old downtown core. Each house is a shop of some sort - although most are tailor shops filled with bright cottons, Italian wools and silk. Other shops sell Chinese lanterns, crafts, paintings and other goods to lure the tourists. Lastly, there are a great number of restaurants serving local delicacies at reasonable prices. The favoured mode of transportation for tourists is the bicycle rented from one’s hotel for $1 per day.

We settled in our hotel and set out on foot to find the tailor shop where our daughter, Aryana, had bought some lawyer suits when she was here in 2009. By evening, all our dimensions were noted, scissors were in hand and the clothes-making begun. There was nothing left to do but start in on the list of guide book recommended restaurants. Darla’s choice was Miss Ly’s. We settled on the four dishes of the tasting menu: steamed rice paper dumpling with shrimp inside swimming in a garlic lime and chili sauce; fried wantons the size of your hand with a ball of pork inside and a pile of chopped tomatoes, onions and shrimp on top; grilled pork spring rolls in rice paper dipped in a spicy sauce with fresh herbs, chopped peanuts and chili; and then a bowl of thick noodles, chunks of roast pork, herbs, greens and croutons made from chopped fried wantons. At $15 including the beers it was the usual exotic and fabulous food bargain we have come to expect here in Vietnam.

The next few days were spent in serious retail therapy. Many days were cloudy so the beach was not an option. We had the pleasure of connecting again with a really nice couple we met in Mui Ne - Jean-Luc and Michelle from Montreal. They joined us at a most memorable restaurant called Balewell. We found it on a back street. The inside was ever-so-bright fluorescent, however, we chose one of the many tables outside along the narrow alley. As soon as we sat down, dishes appeared at the table: a plate of arugula, watercress, shaved cucumber and lettuce; chopped, pickled cabbage and carrot; slim, deep-fried vegetable spring rolls; skewers of thin slices of chicken and pork grilled on a charcoal fire; a plate of rice paper and a thick, spicy dipping sauce. The owner decided we needed guidance...she peeled off a couple of rice papers, deftly aligned bits from each plate on the paper, rolled it up and handed it to one of us. She then repeated the process about six times. As quick as she could make the rolls we dunked one end into the sauce and wolfed it down. Another plate arrived with a stack of little pancakes filled with sprouts and fried onions. These were added to the rolls making them even fatter. We lost count of how many we ate. The owner left us to serve others. We kept rolling. As plates of ingredients emptied more plates arrived. Lots of beer was swilled down to counter the warm chili spiciness. Common sense eventually prevailed even though the table was still full of food. The bill was $5 each including the copious beers.

We had a back room at our hotel that faced a school and the western sun. Palm trees shaded our little second-floor balcony. It was idyllic until the loudspeakers at the school next door started to broadcast inspiring messages from the chairman at very high decibels. For the first time we became aware that we were in a Communist country. Sunday was the worst. The messages started around 8:00am and did not quit all day. There was inspiring music, too. The messages, we are sure, were reminders to the general populace that they live in a workers paradise - contrary to the lives-of-hell lived by the running-dog, capitalist tourists who, inexplicably, had wallets that were never empty. Indeed, the one employee at our tailor shop confided that she earned $60 a month.

We rented bicycles for six of the eight days we were in Hoi An. This allowed us to explore the little roads through the rice paddies, get to the beach and be quicker on our shopping excursions. The beach was stunning - which says a lot for folks who spent a month at Mui Ne. The water was colder and very clear...kinda like the north shore of PEI in August. The waves were huge and they threw us around. We found a beach shack with chaise longues and little palm shelters. They served cold beer and a wicked deep-fried tofu in spicy sauce. We became short-term regulars - greeted like old friends every time we arrived.

Our tailor, Thi (Tee), invited us to supper out in thanks for our business. Of course, there were no westerners at the restaurant besides us. Beer and sesame papadoms arrived in a twinkle. Then some steamed clams in a lovely broth. She ordered a ‘clay pot’ which is just that with some charcoal embers glowing in it. Over top is a dome-shaped pot with many holes. Strips of beef, carrots and cucumber were laid on the dome and cooked. A plate of pork ribs arrived with chilies, ginger and greens. Then a plate of grilled shrimp on a bed of mint with a dipping sauce of fried, dried and fresh chilies with a little sugar. We were stuffed and yet another plate arrived of stir-fried rice, shrimp, carrot, beef, greens, corn and beans...that plate was finished in the kitchen.

It became clear we could not spend the rest of our lives in this exalted little town. We had a few days to play with before another overnight train north and decided to try the Easy Rider experience. The Easy Riders are supposed to be Vietnamese guides with good English skills who drive bigger motorcycles and know the surrounding areas very well. They will take a rider and luggage on a multi-day tour through remote areas for that unique travel experience.

We sent an email to the Hoi An Easy Riders and got a quick reply from Leo, the Hoi An Easy Rider. We arranged for a three day trip from Hoi An west to near the border of Laos and then north on the Ho Chi Minh Trail and then east to the Imperial capital of Hue. Leo promised we would see minority peoples and sites of battles between the armies of the US and North Vietnam.

We set out at 9:00am on a hot sunny day. Across the flats through rice paddies, we could see the mountains looming. We crossed a wide river and then stopped for lunch at a hole-in-the-wall roadside restaurant. We were served cooked spinach-like greens; a salad of sprouts, shredded carrot, red peppers and green onions; a dish of fried bamboo slivers; slices of cold pork with an inch of fat; warm pork spare ribs and a fresh omelet with green onions. The meal was finished off with a broth of soup and greens. We were none too certain about the sanitary conditions of this place and the fact that when we arrived most of the food was already cooked and sitting in a glass cabinet out front - common to restaurants so customers can see the food. After lunch we quietly conferred about the imminent possibility of Delhi-Belly and just how much fun that was going to be sitting on the back of a motorcycle all day.

Soon we were into the mountains, switchbacks up and down, crossing small rivers, climbing higher and then we turned onto the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Today the Trail is a paved road in Vietnam running along the borders of Laos and Cambodia. The famous Trail from the sixties and seventies was mostly in Laos and Cambodia. If today’s Trail is a feat of engineering, and it is, as it winds and climbs through rugged mountains and deep, triple-canopy jungle, then the Trail built in the sixties and seventies as a supply route for Vietnamese forces fighting the US is, according to the US Army official record, ‘one of the great achievements of military engineering of the 20th century’.

Leo pulled over at one point and turned into a collection of small wooden buildings. We followed him up a steep path to a building that looked more like a basket built on stilts. Even though it was very hot outside, the extended family of one of Vietnams ethnic minorities inside was quite cool thanks to air currents sifting through the cracks in the weave of the floor and walls. We carried on and spent the night at a little town named Pao close to the border of Laos. We had a beautiful room with a balcony on the main street. Supper was a huge baked fish crusted with chopped beans, carrots and onions; more steamed greens; a stir-fry of vegetables and rice. It was Friday night and the whole population between the ages of 12 and 18 paraded arm-in-arm (segregated by sex) up and down the main street for hours - waving up to us and giggling each time they passed.

We started the next day with a visit to an ethnic minority village. There was little explanation or introduction to this visit and it was becoming clear that our guide, Leo, was into little else but biking and making money. As usual, we were followed by a flock of children practicing their english and posing for photos. Back on the road for about a half-hour and we passed beside a small village where the senior high girls were playing volleyball. That was all the invitation needed by the volleyball star in our entourage. Darla jumped off the motorcycle and into the game to much local delight. We spent the rest of the day twisting through many switchbacks as we climbed through mountain passes and descended to valley floors heading north on the trail. In early afternoon we pulled over for a break on a bridge over a tumbling mountain stream. We climbed up and soaked our feet in the cool water. Toward the end of the day we passed near the site of the Battle of Hamburger Hill. This battle was a watershed moment in the war as although the US eventually won the battle at great cost it marked a turning point in the attitude of the American public toward the war. Large photos of US troops dying at Hamburger Hill in Life magazine mobilized many people to demand an stop to the war. The army brass responded by ending many of their aggressive campaigns to root out the North Vietnamese and, instead, adopted a more defensive strategy.

We also saw great swaths of hillsides still scarred from Agent Orange and its deadly ingredient, dioxin - ‘perhaps the most toxic molecule ever synthesized by man’ it is said. The havoc wreaked by dioxin continues today in Vietnam and into the future at catastrophic levels. A weapon of mass destruction...!

That night we spent in a seedy hotel in the town of A Luoi. Supper was at a sleazy, greasy spoon across the road. We had to insist that our food be cooked fresh and not taken from the glass bacteria cabinet at the front of the restaurant. Surprisingly, the food was great including some tender chunks of pork done in a clay dish with a tight top - kinda like bacon. They did slip some spicy chicken from the bacteria cabinet onto the table and it was pretty good, too. We were joined in the restaurant by four local gentlemen. They ordered a hotpot with seafood, beef and vegetables along with not one but two 750 ml bottles of what tasted like really good, strong shine but with a rice base rather than sugar cane. As usual on this trip, my cane and knee brace disarm the locals and provide an ice-breaking topic of conversation...soon we are drinking shine and gesticulating with signs to cover a wide range of topics.

We took the road from the Ho Chi Minh Trail, near the border to Laos, to the city of Hue on the coast on our final day of the trip. We saw many more Agent Orange denuded hillsides and continued through areas inhabited by Vietnamese ethnic minorities. According to our guide, Leo, this area was supposed to have a lot of ‘American-looking people’ as the US troops were stationed here for some time. It was hard for us to discern this amongst the few folks we met on this Sunday morning. On a short break at a small country rest stop we found a group of gentlemen drinking a clear liquid from plastic bags at 10:00am. A quick taste revealed it to be the same substance as the night before - except that these folks were too poor to buy the whole bottle. They were, however, lively, friendly and curious about Canada.

We arrived in Hue mid-afternoon in time for a great, cheap meal at a local restaurant and then off to the train station for our overnight journey to Ninh Binh. And that’s where the next episode will begin.

Don’t forget to scroll down to the bottom and to the next page for all the photos.

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Photos

Jean-Luc & Michelle
- in an irreverent moment

Balewell
- before the carnage

Clay Pot
- strips of tender beef & veg

Motorcycle Queen
Westerners want to be brown. Asians want to be white...?