My first overnight train

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I went all through Europe, a place known for its train system and the ability to catch an overnight train, but didn’t catch a single overnighter. My first one started last night in Hue and continued into today, arriving in Hue in the mid afternoon. Though it was not at all glamorous, I slept pretty well. I might not have slept as well had I seen one of the train’s staffers come in just before I left, take my sheet and blanket that was provided, fold it and place it back on the bed for the next guest.

After a short taxi ride to my hostel, I checked in and got situated. It seems like a nice place, with balconies and a bar/café. Upstairs in my room, I met two new roommates, Ben from Australia and Barbara from Bavaria, Germany.

I headed downstairs to check email and tour info for the DMZ (why I came to Hue) and was shocked by an email I received from my mom. One of her employees, who I had met several times and even worked with a bit 11 years ago, had taken his life. He was under immense emotional pressure caused by marital problems with which it appeared he could no longer cope. I just can’t imagine reaching a point in life where you feel your only option is that course of action, rather than at least charting an altogether new and different course.

Still stunned, from the bad news - I would remain this way for some time - I eventually made my way back upstairs. There I got to talking with Barbara. We decided to walk around town for a bit, making our way down and through the citadel. There and throughout much of the evening, we were bothered by numerous annoying motorbike and rickshaw drivers. She had mentioned earlier that they seem to be more annoyingly persistent in Vietnam than they were in Cambodia. She was right. Instead of just asking repeatedly, here they insisted on following us, sometimes for a few minutes, confounded that we should want to walk rather than take advantage of their wonderful “city tour”.

We continued walking, eventually making our way back across the river and heading along it until we noticed we were finally out of tourist central. Local people, not used to seeing westerners in their part of town, became very friendly; most shouting “hello” and children wanting to exchange names with us.

We continued walking and, on our return, found a place to eat that was completely patronized by locals. We sat ourselves down on chairs that were the size of those that my sister used to have when she played tea party as a five year old and ate at the equally small tables. I had a chicken soup which I mixed with white noodles and greens, recommended by the waitress, and Barbara had a vegetarian dish, opting to forego meat while in Southeast Asia as she’s concerned about the hygiene here. Both dishes were excellent. We could easily tell that they made the food authentically, not watering down the mix of spices to comfort western palates

With our dinners we were given a side of chili peppers. I went right after a tiny red one, no more than three quarters of an inch in length. It started with a tingle. Seconds later I could taste some heat. Within 30 seconds, my nose was dripping wet and sweat poured out of my bright red face. I washed it down with a beer and the taste finally subsided a few minutes later. It wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever tasted but it might have been the hottest single pepper I’ve had (most very hot things before were partially do to the quantity of food).

As we started heading back, we realized that we weren’t exactly sure how to get back. We started down one roadway, then another and finally she suggested heading towards what she thought was a bridge. I followed, thinking at the time this wasn’t the best way but not knowing a good alternative to suggest. We came into some darker areas before coming to what appeared to be a boat dock for tourist boats during the day. There were several restaurants serving locals but that was about it. We hadn’t been offered the services of a motorbike for more than an hour.

She believed we should keep going towards a bridge that was illuminated well off in the distance. I decided this was enough as, once we crossed what might have been a bridge, we would have to navigate what appeared to be a very dark mass of land across the river. We turned around and finally made it back to known parts.

Along our long walk, we talked mostly about our travels but eventually began discussing 1984. She brought it up, having read it over New Year’s. It was pretty coincidental that I’m now reading it and am just a few pages from finishing. It’s a very fascinating book that goes far beyond the concept of “Big Brother” as most people, having never read the book containing its origins, use the term.

Back at the hostel, I showered and finished 1984 before falling asleep. Tomorrow we are both on the tour of the former DMZ which leaves the hostel at 6:00 am.

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Photos

Train
My train before departing Saigon.

Berth
My tight berth. Mine was the top bunk. There were another two beds to the right of the door.