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Published: December 4th 2006
Monday 27th to Thursday 30th November
I've got to admit I was dreading the six hour 6.45am bus ride from Phnom Penn to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) but the only other option was a four hour boat journey to the border and then once through immigration to find my own way to Ho Chi Minh, at least another two hours by road. I needn't have worried though as, like a naughty schoolboy, I managed to snag the whole of the back row for myself and spent a good portion of the journey flat out drifting in and out of consciousness.
As soon as I stepped off the bus in the busy city street at about 1pm I was approached by a middle aged woman asking if I needed a hotel and when I nodded she wasted no time in grabbing my bag and storming off into the crowds yelling at me to follow. Fortunately it was only a minute away and, again for fifteen US dollars, I got a huge room with A/C, three beds and wait for it, a balcony. Throughout my three night stop the only people who seemed to be managing the place were three
ever smiling girls, aged 20, 21 and 26 (they all looked about fifteen) who each worked 16 hour days and who slept on the floor in the foyer. Not a man to be seen.
Although technically geographhical neighbours, the people of Cambodia and Vietnam differ massively in appearance. The ugly ducklings, the Cambodians, have a look almost of Andes region South Americans whereas Vietnamese people are beautiful like no other Asians, the western influence of the French seeing to that. It is also extremely confusing to move from a country that uses the US dollar as it's currency to one that has it's own, the Vietnamese Dong, that roughly equates to 16,000 VD to one dollar. When you workout from a menu your meal is going to cost 80,000 anything's, even if a drink is included, it is enough to bring on the indigestion until you've had time to work out that it actually translates to be about two pounds fifty pence. And that's roughly what it'll cost in Saigon, a beer will set you back sixty pence, a main course meal one pound fifty.
Again, I dossed my ruck sack and immediately went exploring and only a
Vietnam; Welcome to the 21st Century.
Going ..... Matt become's a Vietnamese geurilla for a day.couple of minutes had passed before I had recognised several land marks and got my bearings from my last visit here two years ago. The thing that struck me on my last visit was the sheer numbers of motorbykes that buzzed around the streets and that hadn't changed but I've got to say it was nice to be back in a place which resembled the twenty first century again.
At 8am the next Morning I was on a bus on the way to see the Cu Chi tunnels, a 250km network of underground passageways 50km outside Saigon used by guerilla's in both the war with the French in the early fifties and again in the Vietnam war of the sixties and seventies. Our guide was the hilarious Mr Khanh, almost a caricature of your typical oriental (he pulled me to one side at one stage and asked what I thought of his English. I didn't have the heart to tell him I only understood one word in about twenty) and I foolishly, as did several others, accepted his invitation to manouevre myself down a thirty metre length of four foot high tunnel. My back and knee are still in
recovery.
To be in a location that witnessed such fierce almost hand to hand fighting during the war and witness the ingenuity and cleverness of the locals made me realise just how terrifying an ordeal it must have been for the young US troops sent there and the whole experience was a sobering one as was the visit to the war memorial museum (formerly the Museum of American War Crimes against Vietnam) where I got the bus driver to drop me off on the way home. As well as displaying various vehicles and aircraft deployed in the war there were also several displays of photographs taken during the conflict by war correspondents from both sides.
In all the Asian countries I've visited so far people are forever trying to entice money from you, either by selling you something totally useless which they surely must realise you don't want or need or simply by begging. You learn pretty quickly to say no politely so when a land mine victim with a wooden leg, one glass eye and two stumps for hands (honest) approached me in the museum grounds as I was gently stroking the barrel of an M14 tank
Vietnam; Welcome to the 21st Century.
This tanke remains in the spot where it was incapacitated by a Viet Cong rocket grenade. I had my lines rehearsed. Unfortunately, this rebuffal didn't go to plan because just as the words "no thankyou" were about to spill from my lips he held out his arm/hand/stump in greeting. What choice did I have ? I felt as though the whole museum had stopped to watch my reaction. I gritted my teeth, accepted his arm and shook three or four times. I survived and he went on to tell me how he had been the victim of a land mine at the age of eight over thirty years ago. He wasn't begging, he was expertly juggling a stack of books he was selling in his arms as we spoke, but wanted me to buy one of his books and seemed slightly offended when I told him I didn't want one (why would I want a guide to Vietnam written entirely in French ?!) but that here was 30,000 dong for his trouble. He disgruntedly refused.
Sex and drugs are two things that are constantly offered over here too. In Thailand and Cambodia I would be asked at least ten times each evening if I wanted a massage, nice girl, marijuana, opium and in one case
Vietnam; Welcome to the 21st Century.
Tour guide Mr Khanh demonstrates the various man traps devised by the Viet Cong. Nasty. in Phnom Penn smack. In Vietnam it's even worse. Last night a middle aged woman on a moped with a young girl of maybe fifteen on the back, more than likely her daughter, pulled up alongside me as I walked and asked if I wanted a massage, piercing the circle made with the forefinger and thumb of her left hand with the forefinger of her right hand. What sort of massage is that I thought !!? Of course I refused and rest assured mum, will continue to do so.
My third day in Ho Chi was a day of rest and other than booking a ticket for the next days bus back to Phnom Penn consisted of nothing other than a mid afternoon run in the park and an evening viewing the new Bond movie 'Casino Royale' in a cool bar come restaurant who's top floor was kitted out with plush cinema seats and tables to eat at. The movie was, to my surprise, better than I expected but I'm still going to start a campaign when I get home to bring back Roger Moore.
I had planned to fly to Kuala Lumpur direct from Saigon but unfortunately
Vietnam; Welcome to the 21st Century.
Snake wine anyone ? They actually drink this shit ! Air Asia, Asia's equivalent to Easyjet, don't fly out of the city and the other airlines were beyond my budget so at 11 o'clock on Thursday morning I boarded the bus to return to Phnom Penn where I'd booked a flight from on Friday afternoon. Thankfully the journey passed really quickly aided by a copy of Australia's Daily Telegraph and a an ipod playing an unusual mix of Madonna and early Black Sabbath and my good deed for the day was helping out a Russian couple (I thought they were American, he looked like Val Kilmer, her like a supermodel) with a loan of forty dollars at immigration as he'd neglected to go to the bank to get some dollars before leaving Saigon. We shared a moto when we arrived in Phnom Penn and headed for the hotel that I'd stayed a few days earlier but, after checking out the rooms he decided not to stay saying "I have a wife to look after" and moved on. And I thought it was four star !!
By now it was early evening and I nipped to the local sports bar to check out if the cricket had started. It hadn't
Vietnam; Welcome to the 21st Century.
Entering the tunnels via a more middle aged man friendly route. but Randall, the Australian Clive James lookalike owner proprietor introduced me to Pete, an expat from Aintree who was now working in Cambodia for the UN. We shared a few beers then I made my excuses because I could see it had the makings of a full bender. I haven't had more than a handful of beer in one sitting since I left home and didn't think it'd hurt to extend that run but unfortunately, on my way back to the hotel, I was drawn for a nightcap into a typically horrible Cambodian only beer house where the locals, ranging in age from sixteen months to sixty years, revelled in the novelty of having a westerner amongst them ensuring that by the time I did get home I was suitably bladdered !!
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Great story.I'm enjoying these little snippets.