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Published: January 25th 2007
The Tomb of Ho-Chi-Minh
If there was ever a beauty pageant of Commie-Cadavers, I'm sure that Uncle Ho would be the unanamous winner!Day 236, 22nd January
Hanoi
The Mai Phuong Hostel isn’t a bad place really. A good breakfast and a cuppa is always nice first thing in the morning. And if I don’t want their breakfast, there’s a sandwich maker a few streets away who does good French bread with fried eggs popped in. The bad thing with that is that I have to negotiate the market where they are stir-frying insects and slicing goat brains like cheese to pop in a sandwich, yuk!
Today I went to Ho-Chi-Minhs mausoleum with Rory and Toby. The visit was free, but first you had to sit through a presentation and video which I dubbed “The Uncle Ho Experience”. It was basically a load of propaganda in the typical communist style, but interesting. After the grief-flick, we were marched on to the mausoleum itself which was an impressive experience. It was far better that the Mao Experience in Beijing where it looked like Mao was lit up by a bulb inside his head. Ho was in a crystal sarcophagus surrounded by a golden rail. There were four immaculate guards of honour, one on each corner, proud and motionless. Around the room were
The one who keeps me going...
This is Kathryn. We met briefly, have had an internet romance, maybe she'll meet me when I arrive in Singapore. Question is - Will Love Blossom? a further five similar looking guards. Ho looked real. Closed eyes, whispy beard, and hands crossed upon his chest. Above him on the wall was a golden star and the hammer and sickle emblem. We left feeling impressed, and that if there ever was a Commie-Cadaver-Competition, Uncle Ho would win, literally hands-down.
Afterwards, we had lunch and walked back through the embassy quarter. The afternoon was spent in the café opposite the hostel, drinking and talking. I emailed Kathryn later to apologise about phoning her drunk last night.
Even later, we all went out and got drunk.When the time came to go home the rickshaw riders appeared and some negotiating went on. It transpired that for an undisclosed sum, the riders of two rickshaws would let Rory and Toby ride the rest of us back to the hostel and the riders would follow behind. What the locals didn’t know was that after cycling here from England, we’d developed powerful leg muscles and weren’t like your ordinary soft-shite tourist. It basically turned into a hair-raising drunken race between Rory and Toby, with the local riders yelling and running behind us. At a particularly nasty bend Tobes lost control and
Amazing Dong!
Uncle Ho and his amazing Dong banknote, worth the price of a cuppa! rolled the rickshaw throwing us guys out. Before the irate riders caught us we were up and off running like stupid kids back to the hostel, laughing hysterically. How can you roll a bloody rickshaw!?
Day 237, 23rd January
Hanoi
This city is growing on me, I really like it. Perhaps because there are no signs of western-style globalisation, for example; no bloody McVomit Burger or Kentucky Fried Chunder! After a real breakfast, I went to the army museum to get the “Other Sides” story of the Vietnam War.
The exhibits were moving, and emotional. A lot of propaganda too, obviously. But who is telling the truth. They quoted that 4,000 American planes were shot down by the Vietnamese. Othere statistics just didn’t add up. I saw the same pictures in different parts of the museum with different captions. Below a picture of a crying woman it read, “Woman weeps to the news her son has been killed by American imperialists”. The exact same picture in another room reads, “Woman cries for joy after return of victorious son from imperialist front”. Outside the museum was a pile of captured or shot-down stuff from the Americans,
The Wonderful World of Ho.
Before visiting the tomb of Ho, you must sit through some really amazing stuff in the House of Ho - or something similar sounding... and even the French.
It was raining when I left the museum and the city was full of raincoat salesmen. As I wandered back in the deluge I saw loads of motorbike accidents. Another head-on like the one the other night when the backpacker lost his life. I began to wonder whether Hanoi is built for motorised transport. These people seem grossly irresponsible. I wonder what would have happened last night if we had been in motor rickshaws???
Day 238, 24th January
Hanoi
I ordered some rubber-stamps yesterday from a seller who carved them out of wood and marble. Today I picked them up. What wonderful souvenirs they make, and what unique gifts. I had one for myself and one mad for Kathryn. She called me at the hostel this morning and we had a large conversation about what we’ll do after I arrive in Singapore, propbably we’ll meet up in Hawaii, and after that maybe we’ll live together in LA for a while if we get on. She warns me that America has become a more dangeros place after the attacks in New York last September. Apparently George Bush has declared war on Afghanistan
Vietnam War Museum
If you are interested to see how Charlie managed to thrash the Yanks, then take a peek in this place... and is looking for a geezer responsible for sending the planes into the NY twin-towers. That mad bastard won’t stop there I bet, he’ll continue into Iran and on to Iraq until Saddam Hussein is dead to avenge his father then we’ll end up with enraged muslims bombing maybe London or Berlin, I suppose? How one gets out of touch…
On a more positive note, all us cycling dudes went off to the British Council for a pre-arranged meeting thanks to Rory and Toby. We gave a presentation about the trip we were doing. I told them how I’d come up with the idea and met my cycling buddies through the internet. Scott described his feelings being an American in Vietnam, and how nice the locals were to him. Nick made them laugh with crazy stories, and made the girls blush with his pierced nipple. We then spoke to the local TV and radio channels, then went on to speak to individual young students. We were amazed by their open political views and knowledge of the how the world works. They didn’t even mind that the secret police were looking on. Afterwards, we had drinks with David, director of
Vietnam War Museum #2
Assorted US hardware, capture and/or/either shot-down. the British Council in Hanoi who suggested that we could expect a nice reception when we arrived in Singapore? On the way back to the hostel, we saw more motorbike accidents…
Sitting in my bedroom with Toby, I decided to capitalise on the paranoia I’d created in his mind about Hans - the ficticious editor of the Gay cycling magazine “Saddle-Free” who supposedly took him back to his hostel in Düsseldorf when he was drunk, near the beginning of the trip. Since then, using a German email address, I’ve been emailing Toby pretending to be Hans, each time getting more and more suggestive, and desperately obsessed with Toby. A previous email suggested that Hans was that besotted with Toby that he was coming to SE Asia to find him. In an amazing stroke-of-luck co-incidence, two gay-sounding German cyclists who’d just arrived in Hanoi and tried to check into our hotel today, had been speaking to Toby. And this had put his paranoia level on Def-Con 5. With a bit of careful wording I managed to convince Tobes that one of these guys was perhaps Hans, and furthermore, he was in the building opposite us. The building looked derelict, but
Vietnam War Museum #3
An assortment of nasty home-made weapons. Never mind guns, they are quick. These things would scare the shit out of me! an open shutter in a widow looked into a gloom - a gloom where I’m sure I saw the refected twinkle of a camera lens…..at least that’s what I told Tobes. Aren’t guys bastards with each other. Still, it passes the time doesn’t it….
A NOTE ABOUT THIS MEMORABLOG:
I’ve received a lot of kind emails from subscribers to this blog and from travellers who have stumbled across it saying that they love reading it, even though it’s 5 years old. The blog is nearing its completion in the next months and the story will be history once again. I’ve enjoyed writing it up day after day because it’s the only way I’d ever get to ever read it or write it up otherwise. Friends have been asking me to do it for the last few years, especially the guys you’re reading about on this trip, they never meticulously kept a journal and therefore enjoying reading this as much as you.
So, as the last journal entries are just over the horizon in Singapore, you’ll soon be able to discover what these six crazy guys are doing now in the “Where are they Now” entry which
Vietnam War Museum #4
A display of sorts. We noticed a number of times the same picture in different rooms - with different captions!!! I’m preparing for the final journal entry. After it’s over, I’m toying with the idea of writing up previous journals from my solo trips in Memorablog form. These are much older trips before the internet, and some are much crazier, highlights of which would include: 1988 - kidnapped by Colombian guerillas near Medellin, 1989 - arrested three times in East Germany by the National Peoples Army, 1992 - caught in the crossfire in newly independent Croatia by Serb mortars, 1993 - first visit to China, British Hong Kong and Portuguese Macau, 1994 - lost in the Balkans, 1997 - eight months cycling NZ and Fiji, 1998 - Eastern Europe and former Yugoslavian bike tour, 1999 - Ring around the Baltic (6,000 miles in 3 months by bike), 2000 - Baltic, Mediterranean, Atlantic bike trip…. And many more.
If you are remotely interested in reading about these trips, then let me have your feedback. If you are, then I can dust off my journals, digitalise my slides, and start writing them up.
Thanks, ANDY
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Tim S.
non-member comment
Great blog!!
I've been reading your blogs recently from the first one, and yeah you should definitely recap your earlier adventures. Great writing, inspiring, and it's a great way for many like me to escape the boring routine of everyday living.