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Published: March 14th 2007
I spent three weeks travelling the major sights of Vietnam.
The first week on my own, exiting the airport, I discovered for the first time the sweet sweaty smell of SE Asia, and fell in love instantly. I began the journey with a very helpful fellow in
Saigon who introduced himself to me in the Backpacker's area, as a guide/ motor taxi driver. He had a notebook filled with other foreigners' reviews and pics. This was my first time to travel mainland Asia on my own. I used his services to explore west of the city as far as Cu Chi tunnels. I definitely recommend avoiding taxi cabs or minivan group tours. Motorbikes are the way to go. We'd stop to take random shots or he would explain to me what people were doing in the countryside; like the rat catchers in the ditches, the grilled dogs roasting on skewers. With the heat and the traffic inside Saigon, it was much more sensible to hire the driver all day, to scoot between museums and historic sites, the markets and temples of China town, the river and its countless boats where the country-folk unload their fruits, and a trip into district
4 to see how some of the local city folk live. Saigon quickly became one of my favourite cities; the perfume of flowers and the spicy noodles or grilled frog or the world's most delicious grilled chicken wafting in the air, the reckless abandon of motorbike traffic, the maze of streets growing smaller and smaller off the maps, and everybody does their living outside.
From Saigon, the motorbike guide helped me with a tour of the Mekong. There was some definite miscommunication. We rode his bike to the bus station and went the rest of the way by cheap, crowded public transport mini busses. He assured me we would be too tired riding by bike on the congested and polluted highways. It was fun to leave behind all the other backpackers but still I felt, I was not getting what I paid for. Our plan was to travel for three days and two nights, stopping in CanTho and in Chau Doc where a family member lived in a traditional old stilt house. Crossing the Mekong, I recalled images of
The Lover. In reality, it was nearly as romantic for me, surrounded by foreign shapes and sounds and smells and
smiles. Early afternoon, reaching
CanTho, Mr Hai arranged a cheap accommodation for me in a great hotel not mentioned in the guide books. I wandered the city centre, a few temples, a market. A short walk from the centre, I entered the gates of an ornate blue and white gilded temple. Young novices in saffron robes sat about chatting or sweeping the courtyard. One followed me into the prayer hall, and in a quiet voice with a very difficult almost snake-like accent, began to sermon me on the life of Buddha. He paused and reflected, 'I think you know about the Buddha'. My few months of ESL teaching had not prepared me for what came next. To put it tactfully, he outted himself. I had a new gay buddy unlike any of those back in college. We spoke for a while. I sketched him. I learned his family was Khmer, refugees a generation removed from Cambodia. He invited me to stay the night in the student barracks but this was not kosher with the head monk. Kim also suggested he and I travel to his home town where he would introduce me to his family and his master. This sounded
pretty cool, like a Paul Coehlo novel, but without the Christian allegories. I found Mr Hai and explained the change in itinerary. He was furious and inside the temple's courtyard, started yelling at me. It was non-negotiable. Tra Vinh lay in the opposite direction of Chau Doc. I told Mr Hai that he had not communicated his contract clearly enough with me and I apologized and told him I wouldn't need his services any further. He stormed off. I checked out of the hotel and Kim and I booked a room together in a riverfront hotel. We talked all evening and I learned about the customs and lifestyle of the monks in Vietnam. The next day we woke early and found a boat for a tour of the floating markets. What a memorable experience! Ordering strong sweet coffee off a market boat, maneuvering the many floating homes and small barges, fruits and vegetables, nuts, spices 'a plenty. Our tour continued into a small canal where we visited a fruit farm, wandered around the papaya and pineapple groves, and explored strange flowers.
It is 2007 now that I am adding this page to my blog. My short adventure with Kim
has already been written, several years ago, and is several pages long. I will summarize by saying that it was a great honour to travel with him and to meet his family and his master. The city of
TraVinh was not much in itself but in the surrounding jungle there stood numerous pagodas, in varying states and size and splendour. After travelling by cramped bus from CanTho, we hopped a motorbike the last stint of the journey. The road was suddenly empty and narrow and the air quiet except for the sound of birdcalls and children playing in the canals hidden in the jungle rising up either side of the cracked asphalt. Kim helped me check into a small hotel south of town, surprisingly clean and friendly considering we were out in the sticks. I was informed that no foreigners had been to Tra Vinh in the last year and half what with the SARS scare and the bird flu epidemic. Wandering the footpaths of Kim's neighbourhood, I met some of the locals and got a sense of how simple their lives are. Kim's father fishes each day for their food and they cultivate coconuts and a few other fruits
and vegetables in their garden. One reason for the popularity of becoming a novice monk seemed to be the financial burden it lifted from a family. Each morning the monks wander out into the neighbourhood and beg for food. In this way, they have something each day to fill their stomach which might not be said of many households in the jungle. Kim's temple stood in a clearing at the end of a long dirt track winding under the thick shade of the tropical trees. I had never seen such strange flowers before, in ceramic pots set about the grounds. To one corner stood small stilted shelters where the novices slept, like large chicken coops, and next to these stood similar coops but in worse repair - and no doubt breeding grounds for several bacterial diseases - for offer to penniless pilgrims. I attended evening prayer, the highlight of my stay in Tra Vinh. The walls of the pillared hall reached over 5m and were painted in shades of blue, images depicting the life of the Buddha. As sun set, a gong rang, storks, alarmed, alighted from the tree tops, and the many novices filtered inside the hall, and sat
facing a large mirror covered Buddha and strung with lights and began to chant. Their sutras sent calming sounds reverberating off the walls. A dog entered and sat near the Buddha, his tail wagging his contentment. Geckos hidden in the cracks of the walls began to chirrup. I felt I had entered a scene right out of
Baraka. The next day Kim & I rode around the jungle paths on the back of motorbikes visiting various temples, and spent the afternoon in the city centre. It'll probably be the one time I ever see a monk playing dance sensation in an arcade.
Recollecting several years later, I don't remember our good-bye. I don't in fact recall much other than the prayer hall, and hitching a ride together in the back of a tractor trailer teaching each other songs. At a fork in the road, Kim returned to CanTho and I to Saigon where Kirsty had just arrived. She is a party animal and a very 'good' influence on me. Following our reunion night out at an open air beer garden with a couple of Aussie guys, followed by drinks at some expat bar, I managed to spin our small
guestroom and filled its little tub with vomit. Yeah, it was nasty.
A short domestic flight brought us to
Danang and from there a quick minibus ride down to
Hoi An. The beaches in the area were perfect for celebrating an unxmas Xmas and good practice for us on rented motorbikes. Th beaches ewre surprisingly vacant and the lcals complained of a terrible season. But the price rates were favourable. We took off one chilly morning to the Cham ruins at My Son. What amazing fun! I do envy the intrepid travellers who cycle or bike on their own. In just one day, Kirsty and I managed to find a thousand curious adventures. I got a shave and haircut at a roadside shack in the middle of nowhere. We had morning coffee in a town full of schoolchildren lined up with their lunch money next to the sandwich ladies and their spicy baguettes. We explored tombs in the fields, dodged cows, met children and farmers. And we even made it to My Son to investigate the famed temples. Hoi An's many cheap textile and garment shops are a sad excuse for a tourist draw but I too was sucked
Rice farmer's first photograph
traveling by motorbike, west of Saigonin, ordered two shirts with crazy dragon designs that I have never worn and a leather jacket that ripped in five places within as many months.
Kirsty & I left Hoi An early one morning, still dark outside, and along the road to Danang, the rain washing down heavily, came upon a night market spilling across the street - a very curios sight. We managed to secure tickets for the train to Hue, and enjoyed a slow journey up over Hai Van pass. It was still pissing down in
Hue. North of the DMZ seemed to be a very different climate. The leaves were dead and fallen and the air more chilled. A short wander through the palace grounds was enough before we fetched snacks and a hot bowl of noodles for the night train to Hanoi.
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Martin
non-member comment
Hi Kevin!
Great post. Your pictures as always are stunning. When are you going to do a look back on Japan? It will probably be difficult to sift through all your material and thoughts you have on that. Looking forward to reading more about your travels, wherever they might be. All the best.