Thoughts of past wanderings from a Colombian Barrio part 1

---

It's all very well seeing the tourist sights of Colombia but what's the real Colombia like?
Where do people really live and what's life really like?

My opportunity arose during an organised tour. Jose, a local guide, invited me to lunch at his home in a barrio called Los Fondadores.

I recall experiencing the opportunity in Vietnam. During my travels in 2011.
Arriving in Saigon I took a bus to Mui Ne but seeing Vietnam from the inside of a coach was no fun at all.

I'll be forever indebted to Eric, the owner of Mui Ne Hills Guest House.
He lives and runs the guest house with his husband Long, a young and very attractive Vietnamese guy.
They make a great couple and I understand that they now run three successful hostels in Mui Ne.

Explaining my predicament to Eric over one of his infamous smoothies, he suggested I tried continuing my journey with an Easy Rider. A Vietnamese man with a motorcycle who would take me into the hills of the central highlands. To the real Vietnam. The true Vietnam.

My one regret is I never kept a journal of this incredible journey. With my rider, Mr Waters, I witnessed sights, sounds and emotions that will live with me forever.

With other riders I met along on the way, initially Kuba from Poland and later Steve and Griff from Warrington we saw waterfalls, elephants and scenery beyond description. Halong Bay, for example, one of mother natures greatest creations.
Every shade of green possible as we rode north through the mountains to Hanoi, hugging the Loas border along the Ho-Chi-Minh trail.
Pull into a village, kill a chicken then BBQ it and eat it. All within 45 minutes.
Dog, rat, snake, I ate it all. I drew the line at cat though.

I met and chatted to ex-Vietnam vets from both sides of the American War, as The Vietnamese call it. Their tales of heroism, sadness, rehabilitation and forgiveness. The sheer destruction and brutality during the conflict. Bomb craters the size of mini quarries. The DMZ. The maze tunnels constructed up to 23 meters deep by villagers to keep themselves safe and support the NVA.
19yr year old kids from the likes of Oklahoma never stood a chance here. The futility of war. Sent, like lambs to the slaughter, by business, congress and 'War machine -USA' into a fight that could never be won. A war in which they did not belong.

Children still being born today limbless and sightless thorough the effects of Agent Orange, the chemical de-foliant.
Old men baring the scars of Napalm burns from battles to defend their home.

The shine of the Ten Ladies, who defended their village for weeks until the Americans, tired of losing men in the battle, simply bombed them and their children to smithereens. A temple near the statue which is now a rite of passage for all Vietnamese people to attend and prey for their souls.

It was, however, the people that made the trip. Simple villagers, most living in poverty but so happy. Smiles on every child's face who stopped kicking a fizzy drinks can around and waved when we rode by. Thousands of school children riding to school in their bright uniforms. Each grasping with both hands and understanding the value of education their parents had to pay for to improve their lives.

Meeting the family of Mr Waters in a wooden shack in a rundown barrio besides a river on the outskirts of Nah Trang. The toilet waste dropped straight into the river.
Next door a child aged about six making tiny pancakes for her mother to sell at market.

We sat on the floor, all twenty of us. A chicken and a fish cut in such a way it fed us all. We drank beer, laughed and shared stories.

Vietnam, and that twenty three day motorcycle ride changed my outlook on life, and I guess, ultimately the direction my life took forever.

For it was in the hills of the Central highlands, far from the madding crowd that I had what you might call an epiphany.

A year from retiring from the police I really had no idea what I was going to do.

In the mist of the highlands we stopped for rest, coffee and a cigarette. A Vietnamese man aged around 35yrs passed by on his tiny scooter. He saw two white men with Easy Riders, turned around and approached us.

Kuba, who spoke good English was one on side of the road, I was on the other.

I could see Kuba shaking his head and pointing to me. It turns out that even Kuba couldn't help him. This lovely man was trying to learn English from the Saigon Times and listening to the BBC Long Wave service. He couldn't afford lessons but he knew, if he could speak it, he could communicate with tourists and improve the lives of his wife and children.

He was stuck on an article about Saigon Airport and the maiden flight of a plane.

"Lady flight? No understand lady flight"

Kuba shrugged his shoulders too.

So commenced a thirty minute English lesson over a cigarette, high in the mountains on the Ho-Chi-Minh trail. I went through his exercise books, taught his some meet and greets and and corrected his pronunciation.

The happiest Vietnamese man that day left me with a smile as wide as life itself.

I knew then what I wanted to do with my life when I retired.
I've now taught English as a second language for three years and haven't looked back since.
That chance encounter changed my life forever.

(A selection of my journey. All photos on FB page)

---

Photos

North Vietnamese soldiers
Met these people at a reunion for fallen comrades. They lived in a cave during the war. It was a hospital and ammunition dump. They remember those lost and then drink till they cannot stand

Kuba and I
Like a couple of G.I's out on the lamb.

Ex marines
Bill Evans and his pal Soeul. Both fought here. Bill is now married to a Vietnamese lady and runs motorcycle tours for ex-vets to help the healing process of the mental scars still evident.

Family lunch
Mr Waters family home in Nah Trang

Youth
Of a Vietnamese barrio

Mr Waters and I
23 days in the saddle Saigon to Hanoi

Entering tunnels of the DMZ
This lady lived in the tunnels during the war.

Cheers
3yr old child with pint of Red Bull. It's 10 o'clock in a restaurant in a village high in the mountains

Waterfall
On the Ho-chi-Minh trail