United on the Reunification Express

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Keen beginnings

Feeling well rested after two weeks of downtime in Hoi An, we were ready once again to hit the road and take in a little more adventure. We had high expectations for an interesting onward journey as we were booked on the Reunification Express train that connects Hanoi to Saigon. The line dates back to the French colonial times, having been completed in 1936. It stopped running in 1954 when the country was divided into north and south, only to be functional again after unification in the mid-70s. We bought our tickets directly from the national railway service in Saigon, unaware that a separate private service called Livitran also operated on this line, offering considerably higher quality facilities.



We were scheduled to depart Danang at 14:42 on the SE4 train and arrive in Hanoi the following morning at 5am. We had read up on this train journey in our various guide books and the ever practical website www.seat61.com, which provides all the details you could ever want about getting from A to B by train or ferry practically anywhere in the world. Our impression was that we were in for a relatively clean and comfortable private cabin with four berths, including fresh sheets and on-board dining. Furthermore, we were looking forward to checking out the Hai Van Pass between Hué and Danang, hailed by many as some of the most spectacular scenery of any one train ride. It soon became our firm opinion that whomever thought that, either drank one too many Tiger Beers during his journey or has never travelled through Switzerland… or perhaps both. Either way, our perspective was admittedly spoiled and over-privileged, as our experience on the SE4 to Hanoi was anything but joyous.

Five minutes down… 14hours and 55 minutes to go

(or so we thought.)

Within minutes of boarding car no. 10, we first noted that our cabin had been freshly occupied for the overnight journey between Saigon and Danang, as evidenced by the smell, rubbish, and dirty sheets left behind by our predecessors. Our naïve Swissness became terribly apparent when we looked around to see if any train attendants were planning to come clean our cabin. As we finally accepted that we’d have to accept the cabin in its current state, we focused on enjoying the view. While at times, it was nice to see the sea stretch out below us (see photos attached), it wasn’t exactly the dramatic landscape we had been led to believe we’d be witnessing. To be fair, the rain and clouds didn’t contribute favorably to the situation either. Furthermore, the interesting landmarks such as the famous Demilitarized zone of the “American War” escaped our notice entirely and within a couple hours of our delayed departure, night fell and there was nothing to be seen outside our window.

Two hours down… fourteen more to go…

(as we later found out.)

Arnaud managed to cross the eight wagons and four classes separating us from the dining car to collect some dubious looking spring rolls, steamed cabbage and fried rice for our family. His selection was based on this being the only things he recognized. We later discovered that Arnaud’s 30minute dinner expedition was not necessary, as a dinner would have come to us by means of a loud trolley working its way down the train corridors. That was to be the first of many knocks on our cabin door during our journey.

Five hours down… eleven

more to go…


As the kids settled into their travel sheets on the bottom two berths and we turned out the lights, Arnaud and I tried to pass the time with our one remaining episode of Castle on the iPad, while I cursed myself for not being more prepared with a couple films on hand. Arnaud had the wisdom to have his book within easy reach, while mine was tucked away deep in my suitcase which was buried at the bottom of our luggage, piled securely at the foot of the children’s berths. I therefore eventually settled for my favourite scenes from Mary Poppins, despite having been subjected to its soundtrack several hundred times during the previous week’s rainy days.

Seven hours down… nine more to go…

Arnaud dozed off nicely and I was confronted with the moment I had been dreading since the start of the train trip: Mimi declared she needed to use the toilet. Earlier in the evening, I had braved the wagon’s one functioning WC and came out of the experience somewhat traumatized. Not only were these facilities as meager and soiled as one could imagine, but I had failed to switch on the light on entering- a fact I only came to understand when we entered a seemingly interminable tunnel most unexpectedly. I won’t get into the details of my state of undress at that very moment, but as I got tossed from one wall to the other in the dark, I did find myself on the verge of tears, wondering how many tubes of hand sanitizer my body might require to recover from this calamity. My only salvation was that I was a grown woman whose years of fearing public toilets had led to strong thighs. (Again, forgive the mental picture, but I am getting to a logical point very soon…) In stark contrast to my habits and wisdom concerning public toilets, my dear young daughter suffers from the unfortunate compulsion to sit on all toilet seats, irrespective of their state of cleanliness and in spite of my tireless efforts to persuade and teach her otherwise. Armed with this knowledge and the awareness of the likely deterioration in condition of the train’s toilets over the recent hours, I couldn’t think of a feasible manner in which my psyche would survive a visit there with Mimi. And so I did what all self-respecting hygiene freaks would do in my place, I put one of my 2-year-old son’s diapers on my long potty-trained 4-year-old daughter and commanded she do her business in it. But let me reassure the imaginative among you by confirming that I did not resort to this method for my own person. In my case, I relied on the old-fashion, albeit uncomfortable solution of “holding it in”… all the way to Hanoi.

Seven and a half hours down… eight and a half more to go…

Just as I finally began to fall asleep and as Arnaud was well into a comfortable snore, our door suddenly slid open noisily. It was an elderly woman looking for a free spot to sleep. On seeing our eight round eyes staring unhappily at her, she quickly slammed the door shut again. Unfortunately, she must have neglected to make a mental note of our cabin number or perhaps thought she’d get lucky while one of us was on a loo run (unaware of my trauma described above), because she checked in on the state of affairs in our cabin on two more unexplainable occasions during the night. Such events, along with the malfunctioning central air conditioning, noisy train tracks, and general discomfort of our so-called first class berths made for a rather fragmented sleep.

Fifteen hours and forty minutes down… twenty or so minutes to go…

Though it was still dark out, the lights of Hanoi became increasingly undeniable, raising our hopes that our arrival was imminent. We packed up our things and moved our way to the train door.



At 5:40 AM, the train came to a halt in Hanoi Station and one short taxi ride later. our family’s toughest journey to date had come to a happy end.



It may have been unpleasant, but strangely, we have no regrets about having done this… though next time, we’d aim for the Livitran service in stead.

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Comments

[Susan Jenny]

Hmmm, not the Orient Express of course .....
Well you have added "train ride" to your adventure list now that so many other kinds of transportation have been tested by all four of you. You probably learned something about each other in such close quarters for so many hours.... no? Perhaps it was all that sleeping you did? No wonder you are planning to fly to Chiang Mai! Love and good luck, Nonna

[claudine kahn]

voyage en train
Il faut beaucoup de courage ou de l'inconscience pour affronter tout ça, mais c'est pour la bonne cause. Finalement super expérience .!!!!!!