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Published: January 28th 2008
Flower Hmong women selling Maize whiskey
They look innocent enough don't they? Until you find out that the clear liquid they sell by the water bottle out of those petrol canisters is enough to bring down an Elephant (or several people). But, really at One Pound for 1/2 litres, who's complaining?Okay, another (slightly shorter) one country entry again until I catch up with myself (constantly getting viruses on my memory card from sloppy Internet cafes does not help)
HoChiMinh City (Saigon) --> Hoi An --> Hanoi -->Halong Bay --> Hanoi --> Sapa
So, roughly one week after our Vietnamese visas officially started we rolled dazed and dusty into Saigon. Rather unsure of what I was expecting, and having watched 'Good Morning Vietnam' only a few days earlier, what I found was different to everything.
Let's start with the Scooters/Motos, firstly, there are a lot of them, not just a lot, A LOT. More than I've even seen in my life put together. Secondly, they do. Not. Stop, for man nor red light. The general idea of crossing the road is to walk slowly through it, do not make false starts and do not run. Or you will die. For sure. A lovely billboard outside the hospital showing many graphic injuries caused by Moto's will testify to this. Graphically. I have a photo below, look at it, but make sure it's before lunch. Eye contact helps, but it is mainly a pedestrian benefit, for the moto drivers are looking
at where you will be in two seconds, not where you are. Three weeks in Vietnam and I barely got used to it. It's hard to get used to traffic hurtling toward you with no apparent reaction. I took to sidling up to little old Vietnamese ladies, with their conical hats and woven urns of sticky rice and crossing next to them, furthest from the oncoming traffic of course. Their usual chuckle of laughter in symphony with my sigh of relief that I'd lived to face another road. Of which there were many.
And you would not believe what people carry around on their motos; fridges, huge full length mirrors, double mattresses, 5 kids and the dog. I'm not joking, I saw one little boy being taken to school by his mum, he was sat on the back of the bike, legs dangling over the back, casually eating a pot of instant noodles as his mum swerved round a roundabout and dodged between cars.
But even though it takes half an hour to cross a single road, Saigon (sorry, Ho Chi Minh City, Saigon is just so much easier to say) is an immensely walkable place, seemingly rare
Promise of Hanoi
Through the looking glass for Asia. If you don't mind the live electricity wires that are sometimes propped up on the pavement instead of the pylons and the constant hassle of rickshaw and moto drivers. I love being able to walk cities, don't know why it seems so much more preferable to getting a bus or a tuk tuk, you'd quite happily spend 15 hours on a bus between cites, but getting 10 minute buses in town seems like such a hassle. Walking you can discover little hidden streets and tea shops and buildings, as everyone knows. So we see the city by foot, the usual sights and the surprising, such as the great Christian churches that are tucked away between billboards, and the numerous baguette stands on the street - thank you The French. The bread is so good here, 8,000 Dong (~ 50p) makes for a brilliant lunch.
The War Remnants museum is more shocking than I expected and a little bit of me is still surprised to re-learn that the Vietnamese won the war, not the Americans (The west calls it the Vietnamese war, the Vietnamese call it the American war). Sometimes it seems the other way round. And even
though there is much propaganda, photos of American soldiers posing with the shredded corpses of young boys speak for themselves. There is a photography exhibit (entitled Requiem), about the Indochina war which is worth coming to Saigon alone for. Taking neither side it's a tribute to photographers from all over the world who died to bring the war to a wider audience.
The exhibition focuses on the work of 144 journalists killed in the wars and is the most moving I've ever seen, particularly a shot taken of a female photographer (by Henri Huet I think), who in the midst of battle had been taking photos of bomb blasts and soldiers taking cover. A few minutes later, the platoon she and Huet were with strayed into landmines. The last photo of her shows her dying on the ground whilst the commander of the platoon reads her the last rites. Henri Huet was himself killed in a helicopter crash in Laos a little while later. I've never seen war portrayed quite like it, the photos were so perfectly shot, so brilliantly composed, like a film still rather than a single moment in real time. And I'm astonished at the the
This photo sums up Hanoi for me
Scooters and those stencils are EVERYWERE reporters, there are numerous photos of platoons tramping trough rivers or rice paddies of jungle, the soldiers dressed up to the nines in the latest military fashion, with some heavy duty accessories, and the photographers, mixed up with them like they've strayed into a parade, no special clothing, the only weapon their well used Leica and ammunition in the form of numerous rolls of Kodachrome 400.
This link has a few of the photos from a few of the photographers shown in the exhibit.
And even though they weren't featured these photos are just legendary
Catherine Leroy Dirck Halstead Tim Page - Who set up the exhibit
We also make the required trip to the Chu Chi tunnels, the subterranean maze that the Vietnamese used to skillfully to avoid and attack the Americans. Even though hundreds of people were living below the soil only a few miles from an American army base they repeatedly out maneuvered them. The complex itself is very impressive, mounds were built up around tangles of tree roots to look like anthills, which provided standing room and ventilation for the hidden soldiers. Underground kitchens (whole living areas in Womble like burrows) were vented miles away from their actual locations and hidden trapdoors to the tunnels were concealed in shrubbery
Chu chi tunnels
Original tunnels. They are incredibly small and dark, it's amazing people were able to live in these. or streams and even had counter-measures if the Americans tried to flood them out, with false tunnels running to the rivers. The tunnels are tiny, horribly claustrophobic and pitch black, I could barely stand it down there, I don't know how they managed to fight in them. And then there's the booby traps (booty traps) which are effective as well as inventive. Basically any way you can think of to cause pain (and many you can't) had been made to kill American and South Vietnamese troops.
Whilst you are walking round the tunnel complex there is the constant sound of machine guns and rifles being fired at the shooting range next door, cracks so loud they made me jump every time. You can shoot a huge variety of weapons, or you can throw grenades if you prefer (all for a cost). If you hit the target a sufficient number of times you get a prize. Ahh, tourism eh?
We fly to Hoi An, rather than face a 22 hour bus journey to save 8 pounds. And it's beautiful. A small French colonial town in pastel colours with Japanese and Chinese architecture thrown in for good measure. And if
Chu chi tunnels again
widened for tourists but still so small and dark that wasn't enough, this little town is crammed with tailor shops and patisseries. Perfect. Although faced with so much choice I could not decide what to get made or where. Eventually I choose clothes suitable for travelling, shorts that were the perfect length, a skirt and a top that would go with everything (I've been horribly miss matched up to now). It is far too much fun having clothes made up that you've designed, stitching and all. They even make shoes to your specifications, but I didn't have enough room. Oh, and there's a beach, this place is pretty much Great. We take a few day trips, one to the Marble mountains, where it seems all marble garden ornaments are born. People were trying to sell me 6ft statues of Lions or Buddha - that my weight limit on flights in 20kg obviously isn't an excuse, because people get upset and angry when you refuse to buy things! It's a nice place, the basic temple in a cave thing with some nice views over China beach and the surrounding landscape.
We also run into the Dublin boys on the tiny streets of Hoi An - which is great, and
then the evening passes into buckets of vodka and fruit juice, an amazing bar (which consisted of getting in a free bar taxi in town) with an amazing pool and lots of good memories (thankfully the alcohol did not flow enough to destroy them). This bar also had the most amazing lawn where we and newly adopted friends all sat by candle light, between dips in the pool at 2am. As the sun came up, the canvas wall around the garden came down and there was the beautiful beach, just past the palm trees and thatched umbrellas! With islands outlined against the pink and gold rising sun we all ran into the sea Pagan style-ee to meet the day. And what a beautiful day it was.
We move on to Hanoi eventually, an agonising 18 hr bus ride as the plane is too expensive. But, I have my photocopied version of the final Harry Potter book to keep me occupied (3 pounds, bound like the book with a colour cover and everything) And we arrive at the Best. Hostel. Ever. It's called Hanoi Backpackers hostel, and we arrived on Sunday just in time for the keg of free beer,
drinking games and the BBQ on the roof terrace. There's brilliant people and there's free 24 hour Internet and there's always someone doing something; clubbing in Sombreros, water fights in the park. We stay about 3 or 4 days are really get to know the Old Quarter like it was home. The Old Quarter of Hanoi is great, cramped bustling streets and everything overflowing, packed to bursting: shops, cafes, plants. And everyone wears green pith helmets,
I like this it a lot. I have a pith helmet obsession.
We go see another embalmed socialist, Ho Chih Minh (Uncle Ho for the masses). We have to pass the most bizarre security regulations in the world. you have to leave your camera, bag and phone in different places, pass through metal detectors, collect your bags, then tag and place your valuables in clear bags, only to leave them at another checkpoint. Then collect them in different places when it's over. And there is the biggest queue in the world, 2 miles by my estimate. People love Uncle Ho - whole schools come to see him and pay homage. But you're not allowed to stick around and gawk for too long,
in fact you're not allowed to stop, the line around his glass coffin (in a suitably Edgar-Allen-Poe meets Gothem City, air conditioned tomb) is kept moving but very serious guards. As with Lenin in Moscow, he's raised half up on a red satin dais, with his hands folded neatly over his stomach. And just like Lenin, he looks like he's made of wax, probably a result of being dead and all. They (Them, THE MAN, The Machine, The rulers of Vietnam) say he still has all his own blood and he goes on an annual holiday up to visit Lenin in Moscow where they have their blood filtered together and topped up with those preservatives that give their skin such a lovely yellow pallour.
So to Halong Bay, it's pretty, but the only way to see it is by overpriced, over hyped tour. And they do not seem to care how many black smoke junks plough pollution into the water, or how much rubbish seems to be collecting on the surface. For a designated world heritage site, this is awful. What amuses me are the ladies in their rounded row boats stuffed to the brim with 'tourist food'; pringles,
Hoi An
Japanese covered bridge chocolate, cokes and water, who hover around the boats shouting 'You buy something?' Except It doesn't sound like a question when they say it, it sounds like their next move will be to board your boat and hold you at cutlass point until you spend 20,000 dong on a packet of Chips Ahoy cookies.
And then we take a train to Sapa, meeting more people from the Hostel. Sapa is the most beautiful place I've seen yet - high up in the clouds it's a green wonderland of rivers and rice terraces and colourful local outfits. Again, the tourism thing is saturated but it doesn't spoil the view. There are loads of colourful hill tribes, the H'mong, the Flower Hmong (originally from Burma), The Red Dzao, The Black Dzao and the Blue Dzao. It's like gang warfare all the colours represented up here. you definitely get the impression that these outfits are strictly 9-5, for the tourists, but it's a pretty spectacle.
It's Nilam's birthday so we stay in a $20 room (oh yeah - splashing out!) and take a 3 hour trip via precarious roads to the 'local' market where we buy 1 1/2 litres of local
maize whiskey from three old Flower H'mong ladies who serve it up into water bottles from canisters that would usually hold petrol. Fitting really, when we are told by our guide it's 50% proof most of the time (you can never quite tell with this home brewed stuff). On the way back we randomly stopped at the Boarder with China! There it sat, looking all Chinese, just over a little river. I will never get used to land boarders, being from an Island, they just seem so....silly? ill defined? I don't know, it is just inconceivable to me that someone could say 'ok, this side of the field belongs to me, that side to you, don't cross the line!' You need a sea or a big river for it to be official. but I did get all nostalgic, wishing I were back in China, missing Chineseness and red and year of the pig things everywhere.
In the evening we go to an English pub to celebrate (seriously! Mock wooden beams and bar mats galore) and then for a few rounds of Karaoke, where we are the loudest and worst in the building. Under the Sea, Sweet home Alabama, all
the classics.
The next day, thanks to the Maize whiskey without warning, was almost a write off, but we managed to haul ourselves back to the train station and back to good old Hanoi. Mixed as I am about Vietnam in general, I do love Hanoi. And not just for the 10,000 Dong bowls of Pho noodle soup and 8,000 dong dairy lee baguettes. Mostly for the Pith Helmets people wear whilst riding thier bikes, the courtyard temples and monks in brown robes and the 2,000 dong Beer Hoi, brewed fresh that day and best enjoyed on a street corner. Beer Hoi will also help you get over the shock of being robbed by a man playing the nose flute. Seriously
We then decide on the Infamous 24+ (the time will vary according to the mood of the driver) hour bus to Vientnene in Laos. We've heard things, terrible things; no breaks for hours, buses breaking down, no ventilation, people having to sit on bags and stools in the isles as the bus is frequently overbooked. We even met a person who was locked in the bus along with all the other passengers whilst the driver went to
a Brothel for TWO hours! We stock up on Valium without prescription (8 pills for 20,000 Dong, bargain! I love this place, did I mention that already?) water, pringles and fruit, things to use as pillows and plenty of reading material, charge the Walkmans and we're off. Only then, just to get to the bus stop we have the scariest moto ride ever ( oncoming traffic? Pedestrians? Lorries pulling out? Red lights? No problem) and have to wait 3 hours just for the bus to ARRIVE. Stupid bus. But that's Vietnam - if you can live with elastic time and constant hassle you're gonna love it.
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