Water Puppets and the Perfume Pagoda Trip
We went to see the water puppets last night and once again the reality exceeded my expectations. The theater is rather large and we had first row seats (first row from the back!). Mike was grumbling because we had been told 'you gotta sit down front' (after watching Gallaher on TV, I wasn't 100% sure that was a good idea). What really happened was I did the booking and those were the seats we got. Mike was giving me a ration about that before the start.
The program kicked off with traditional Vietnamese music. Very unusual and very pleasant. Mike and I both like drums. The slidey string thing made some pretty music and the flute was cool. We both liked the musical prelude.
The stage looked just like the pictures. Water. No surprise there. When the music and singing started and then the little plays began, we were enthralled. the dragons which squirted water and breathed sparks and smoke were hot numbers. The duck herding sequence reminded my of Dorsey keeping our company on course and each little scene was exquisite.
Everything was done to music (lots of drums, so we liked that). There was one about planting rice and plowing the fields with water buffaloes that was way too cool. At one point, the two water buffaloes got into a head banging ruckus just like the one I saw in real life. I was going, "wow, I saw that!" And then the little kid broke apart the two fighting behemoths and things returned to pastoral normal. Damn, it really was exactly what I saw when I was waiting by the side of the road while Mike got the brake handle fixed. (Did I tell you about that? I think I did.)
The finale involved a troop of 8 or 10 lady puppets who somehow danced and spun and did a sort of do-see-do to the music. So how did they keep the control sticks from getting tangled? Mike says the puppeteers were under water holding their breath. But I doubt that.
Today I went on a tour to see the Perfume Pagoda. Actually the Perfume Pagoda is a region with a lot of pagodas. It was good, but not up to the magic of the other trips we took. There was a nice 3 mile boat ride which was rowed by a young lady at a very quick pace. The countryside became mountainous and we hiked up a trail to a cavern with a bunch of Buddhist altars and stuff. Pretty cool. On the down side, it was very hot and dry hiking. And there were numerous stalls selling curios, sodas and beer which reminded me of driving through the New Mexico desert--you know, "last gas for 50 miles, see the giant Gila monster".
I did see another very spectacular pagoda complex and overall I'll give the trip a rating that it's something worth doing. You should probably do it first, so the other ones will build on your experience.
On the way back, I hung out the back window of the bus and tried to photograph my last impressions of Vietnam. Two things I saw, but didn't get the photo were the duck herder with a row of ducks and the little boy riding the back of a water buffalo. Oh, well, I'll just have to come back again someday.
I did get some classic traffic photos and a couple of Thit Cho restaurant signs. Missed the ones with dinner in a cage, though. I have seen my first 3 rolls of photos and I'm stoked. Not that I caught every magic moment, but I did get a lot of the flavor.
Tonight, we're going to eat at a Hue style restaurant. Tomorrow, I fly home.
A few last nuggets:
There are changes coming.
I have seen nothing unpleasant from the Gov't or the cops. Mostly, they just let things go with the flow. Maybe there's more to it than what I have seen.
Had lunch at a restaurant called "No More Noodles" yesterday. You may draw your own conclusions.
The other day, Mike looked funny sitting on a 6 inch high chair. I liked it even better when he stood up and the chair stayed stuck to his ass!
Every kitchen I have seen (I try very hard not to look) has made the raunchiest TJ taco stand look like an operating room. Beyond scary!
Showing posts with label Vietnam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vietnam. Show all posts
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Vietnam Trip (Part III)
Bac Ha, Hiking Near Sapa, and Train Ride Back to Hanoi
The dusty street in front of the small hotels and sketchy restaurants looked like a Hmong feeding frenzy Saturday afternoon. Little old ladies (ca. 5 ft. tall) dressed in traditional blue-black garb were selling handicrafts to anyone who would stop. And as soon as anyone did stop, a mini-throng would gather. The stuff they had was neat. Bags with stitching and colorful patterns, embroidered belts, little hats, big loopy earrings, big necklace rings---all the stuff that they wear themselves. And cheap too!
Most of the gals were kinda old. They looked like munchkins. Many had fewer teeth than fingers. But all had big smiles for everyone.
Language was simple: "OK", "One dollah", "jolie", "OK, you buy". etc. Bartering was the rule. Go for half asking price. It was fun because the gals were sweet and pleasant and were very playful. Sign language and whatever else you could come up with worked great. Once I got my bearings, I noticed that they were not all Hmong. There were also Dao (Zao) with shaved foreheads and red turban-like scarves on their heads. They were equally pleasant though not as plentiful.
Actually, it's the Dao that do the "love market thing"--whatever that is.
It was a very cool scene, but it got a little intense at times. So much bartering and handing goods an money back an forth got me confused many times. I found I had to retreat to my hotel room (which opened right on the street) to get a breather. Still, every time we walked out we enjoyed re-starting the barter game. Happy, happy people!
We found friends from the Ha Long Bay trip and the suggestion was made that we should take the tour from the Rose Hotel to the village of Bac Ha for their Sunday market. It was $7 for the day and well worth it, although the bus ride was long and uncomfortable.
Bac Ha is on the other side of Lau Cai. Back down the hill, across the Red River Valley (not the one in the cowboy song), and up to another mountain village. This one was only recently connected via good road. Tourists there are totally ignored. There were many tribes who had walked out of the mountains, many with pack horses. (the pack horses matched the size of the natives--they were mini by large haole standards)
Walking the market square was unbelievable. Colorful dresses and costumes set off the tables covered with pig parts and other totally weird stuff (I call it "weird" and you know how bizarre I can be).
We saw pigs, dogs, chickens, and snakes for sale to be eaten. The coolest thing was what Mike called "Piglet-to-go". These are little porkers trussed in split bamboo with carrying handles. This was not PETA country. Even though we are members of the group called Persons for the Eating of Tasty Animals (also PETA) we were stretched to our limits.
Buying goods from the locals was a lot of fun. There was none of the "buy this..." pressure we have seen elsewhere. There primary objective was to carry out the commerce of their once a week market. Some people had to walk six to eigth hours each way and they were committed to getting the needs met, regardless of a couple of funny looking outsiders.
We saw booths where men were drinking rice whiskey to cement marriage contracts. Saw a horse market.
Everyone ignored us and was totally pleasant. It was more colorful, exciting and enjoyable than anything I have ever seen before. In Mexico, I always have concern about some borracho guy causing a ruckus--not here--no way, Jose.
Our tour guide was cool and quite talkative about how he had been screwed by the government because his great grandfather had been a French-educated doctor who had owned land. Even though the guide's father had died in the war of reunification (as it is known here), the guide had still suffered social consequences. He was well-educated and somewhat bitter. But, at the same time, he was working hard to create a good life for his family whatever the circumstances. I liked him.
At least 90% of the tourists left Sapa by Sunday evening. Monday was peaceful and delightful. We nearly had the town to ourselves. The munchkin ladies tried to sell us some pot but it was dry and looked really crappy. No way! No one offered us opium but it is available.
Mike and I took a hike Monday. We went south of town on a long dirt road which would be OK for jeeps, etc. Walking the road took us past little farm hamlets and such. Lots and lots of terrace farming using very intricate water control. Terraces were fed from small streams or through bamboo piping. The water then went down, down, down, level by level. Water buffalo were plentiful.
We didn't really have a plan when we started and Mike and I would both rather be in the water than trekking the boonies. Still, it was terrific and we Vann's did a rather presentable job of covering a lot of territory. About 15 km out of town, there was a trail down to the valley and across a crude suspension bridge. On the other side was the village of Lau Chai. It wasn't much, I assure you. We passed through farms populated with friendly faces. We were continually greeted with "hello" and "bye-bye". That worked fine, but the total information exchange was definitely limited. The people live in mud thatched houses with grass roofs. It can get pretty cold in the mountains, so there must be fires in each house. The animals lived in attached stables. Sanitation? What's that?
Idyllic country life the way it has been for thousands and thousands of years.
One of my favorite sights was what I call a "knock-knock". These are water powered grinding mills that work on a see-saw principle. Water flows into a bucket on the end of a beam. When filled, the beam tips and empties. When empty, the beam tips back and on the end there is a block of wood which bangs down and crushes grain. Everything is made from wood and lashing. I didn't see any metal parts and probably not even nails were used in the apparatus.
A small troop of young girls came out of the mountains, each carrying large baskets of firewood. Obviously, that was there duty for the day. I doubt most of us could have carried out the task. They scurried up the trail and across the suspension bridge and we later passed them. I don't know how far they had to travel, but I suspect it was a good distance because the valley itself has been denuded of firewood and is totally dedicated to terraces for rice and other crops.
We saw almost no wildlife or birds. The only wild animal I saw all day was one medium sized snake which slithered into the brush. I think that anything that moves has been caught and eaten. I can't blame them since I read that their agriculture can only support their needs for about 8 to 10 months out of year. They have to supplement their crops with income from other sources, which seems hard to imagine.
After another quiet night in Sapa and a morning bike ride to a ridge about 15 km to the west, we set out for Lao Cai to catch the train back to Hanoi. We had to scrub plans for extended touring on the moto because she just wasn't powerful enough. The *next time* I will have my own bike and it will be wonderful. From Sapa we could have gone on to Dien Bien Phu and then back to Hanoi via some excellent roads and scenery.
Instead, we had to go back via train. Actually, the saga wasn't over because we still had more adventures befall us. About 15 minutes out of Sapa and well into the long grade downhill, the brake handle for the front brake broke. No shit! For much less than a New York second we considered going on with just the rear brake---yeah, fat chance of living through that one!
Instead, Mike left me by the side of the road, and high-tailed back to town. Total round trip to fix the handle only took 40 minutes.
Then we carried on. A good thing, too, because we were running short of time to catch the train.
One more thing happened, however, so the story is still not yet over. As we came around a bend in the middle of the long grade, we were stopped by a local policeman and told to pull over and shut down the moto. We promptly complied with great trepidation. He noticed that the taillight was missing (it had been stolen at the hotel in Sapa while under lock and key--you figure--it happens a lot). He asked to see the bike papers and when he saw that the registered owner was some Vietnamese woman who lives in Ho Chi Min City, he looked at Mike kinda funny. But-----he let us go! And we were gone, gone, gone.
No more problems, got the moto on the train. Got hard sleeper berths this time. By the way, hard sleeper berths are just what they sound like. Hard. All you get is one of those little beach mats between you and the formica berth. But at least you can stretch out and it is way better than riding hard seats.
Arrived Hanoi yesterday at 0430. Went and had some pho and then headed to Mike's hotel for a nap. Later we moved his gear back to the room at the Phu Gia (rhymes with Rock Za, remember?).
Talk about language---It's fuckin' impossible! here are some examples:
pho = soup (yeah, we know that already), but it also can mean street.
bo = father or bo = beef
ga = chicken or ga = train station
Ready for a quiz?
Would you rather have pho bo or pho ga ?
Not only that, but sua chua = yogurt or sua chua = mechanic.
The Vietnamese use little marks to indicate the tonal quality that helps distinguish the meaning of their words, but that refinement is totally lost on this dumb haole. I was told that there are four tonal qualities in Chinese and six in Vietnamese. I don't mean to be rude, I'm just pointing out a personal limitation.
Xin Chao (I *hope* that means goodbye, but a little knowledge is a dangerous thing!)
The dusty street in front of the small hotels and sketchy restaurants looked like a Hmong feeding frenzy Saturday afternoon. Little old ladies (ca. 5 ft. tall) dressed in traditional blue-black garb were selling handicrafts to anyone who would stop. And as soon as anyone did stop, a mini-throng would gather. The stuff they had was neat. Bags with stitching and colorful patterns, embroidered belts, little hats, big loopy earrings, big necklace rings---all the stuff that they wear themselves. And cheap too!
Most of the gals were kinda old. They looked like munchkins. Many had fewer teeth than fingers. But all had big smiles for everyone.
Language was simple: "OK", "One dollah", "jolie", "OK, you buy". etc. Bartering was the rule. Go for half asking price. It was fun because the gals were sweet and pleasant and were very playful. Sign language and whatever else you could come up with worked great. Once I got my bearings, I noticed that they were not all Hmong. There were also Dao (Zao) with shaved foreheads and red turban-like scarves on their heads. They were equally pleasant though not as plentiful.
Actually, it's the Dao that do the "love market thing"--whatever that is.
It was a very cool scene, but it got a little intense at times. So much bartering and handing goods an money back an forth got me confused many times. I found I had to retreat to my hotel room (which opened right on the street) to get a breather. Still, every time we walked out we enjoyed re-starting the barter game. Happy, happy people!
We found friends from the Ha Long Bay trip and the suggestion was made that we should take the tour from the Rose Hotel to the village of Bac Ha for their Sunday market. It was $7 for the day and well worth it, although the bus ride was long and uncomfortable.
Bac Ha is on the other side of Lau Cai. Back down the hill, across the Red River Valley (not the one in the cowboy song), and up to another mountain village. This one was only recently connected via good road. Tourists there are totally ignored. There were many tribes who had walked out of the mountains, many with pack horses. (the pack horses matched the size of the natives--they were mini by large haole standards)
Walking the market square was unbelievable. Colorful dresses and costumes set off the tables covered with pig parts and other totally weird stuff (I call it "weird" and you know how bizarre I can be).
We saw pigs, dogs, chickens, and snakes for sale to be eaten. The coolest thing was what Mike called "Piglet-to-go". These are little porkers trussed in split bamboo with carrying handles. This was not PETA country. Even though we are members of the group called Persons for the Eating of Tasty Animals (also PETA) we were stretched to our limits.
Buying goods from the locals was a lot of fun. There was none of the "buy this..." pressure we have seen elsewhere. There primary objective was to carry out the commerce of their once a week market. Some people had to walk six to eigth hours each way and they were committed to getting the needs met, regardless of a couple of funny looking outsiders.
We saw booths where men were drinking rice whiskey to cement marriage contracts. Saw a horse market.
Everyone ignored us and was totally pleasant. It was more colorful, exciting and enjoyable than anything I have ever seen before. In Mexico, I always have concern about some borracho guy causing a ruckus--not here--no way, Jose.
Our tour guide was cool and quite talkative about how he had been screwed by the government because his great grandfather had been a French-educated doctor who had owned land. Even though the guide's father had died in the war of reunification (as it is known here), the guide had still suffered social consequences. He was well-educated and somewhat bitter. But, at the same time, he was working hard to create a good life for his family whatever the circumstances. I liked him.
At least 90% of the tourists left Sapa by Sunday evening. Monday was peaceful and delightful. We nearly had the town to ourselves. The munchkin ladies tried to sell us some pot but it was dry and looked really crappy. No way! No one offered us opium but it is available.
Mike and I took a hike Monday. We went south of town on a long dirt road which would be OK for jeeps, etc. Walking the road took us past little farm hamlets and such. Lots and lots of terrace farming using very intricate water control. Terraces were fed from small streams or through bamboo piping. The water then went down, down, down, level by level. Water buffalo were plentiful.
We didn't really have a plan when we started and Mike and I would both rather be in the water than trekking the boonies. Still, it was terrific and we Vann's did a rather presentable job of covering a lot of territory. About 15 km out of town, there was a trail down to the valley and across a crude suspension bridge. On the other side was the village of Lau Chai. It wasn't much, I assure you. We passed through farms populated with friendly faces. We were continually greeted with "hello" and "bye-bye". That worked fine, but the total information exchange was definitely limited. The people live in mud thatched houses with grass roofs. It can get pretty cold in the mountains, so there must be fires in each house. The animals lived in attached stables. Sanitation? What's that?
Idyllic country life the way it has been for thousands and thousands of years.
One of my favorite sights was what I call a "knock-knock". These are water powered grinding mills that work on a see-saw principle. Water flows into a bucket on the end of a beam. When filled, the beam tips and empties. When empty, the beam tips back and on the end there is a block of wood which bangs down and crushes grain. Everything is made from wood and lashing. I didn't see any metal parts and probably not even nails were used in the apparatus.
A small troop of young girls came out of the mountains, each carrying large baskets of firewood. Obviously, that was there duty for the day. I doubt most of us could have carried out the task. They scurried up the trail and across the suspension bridge and we later passed them. I don't know how far they had to travel, but I suspect it was a good distance because the valley itself has been denuded of firewood and is totally dedicated to terraces for rice and other crops.
We saw almost no wildlife or birds. The only wild animal I saw all day was one medium sized snake which slithered into the brush. I think that anything that moves has been caught and eaten. I can't blame them since I read that their agriculture can only support their needs for about 8 to 10 months out of year. They have to supplement their crops with income from other sources, which seems hard to imagine.
After another quiet night in Sapa and a morning bike ride to a ridge about 15 km to the west, we set out for Lao Cai to catch the train back to Hanoi. We had to scrub plans for extended touring on the moto because she just wasn't powerful enough. The *next time* I will have my own bike and it will be wonderful. From Sapa we could have gone on to Dien Bien Phu and then back to Hanoi via some excellent roads and scenery.
Instead, we had to go back via train. Actually, the saga wasn't over because we still had more adventures befall us. About 15 minutes out of Sapa and well into the long grade downhill, the brake handle for the front brake broke. No shit! For much less than a New York second we considered going on with just the rear brake---yeah, fat chance of living through that one!
Instead, Mike left me by the side of the road, and high-tailed back to town. Total round trip to fix the handle only took 40 minutes.
Then we carried on. A good thing, too, because we were running short of time to catch the train.
One more thing happened, however, so the story is still not yet over. As we came around a bend in the middle of the long grade, we were stopped by a local policeman and told to pull over and shut down the moto. We promptly complied with great trepidation. He noticed that the taillight was missing (it had been stolen at the hotel in Sapa while under lock and key--you figure--it happens a lot). He asked to see the bike papers and when he saw that the registered owner was some Vietnamese woman who lives in Ho Chi Min City, he looked at Mike kinda funny. But-----he let us go! And we were gone, gone, gone.
No more problems, got the moto on the train. Got hard sleeper berths this time. By the way, hard sleeper berths are just what they sound like. Hard. All you get is one of those little beach mats between you and the formica berth. But at least you can stretch out and it is way better than riding hard seats.
Arrived Hanoi yesterday at 0430. Went and had some pho and then headed to Mike's hotel for a nap. Later we moved his gear back to the room at the Phu Gia (rhymes with Rock Za, remember?).
Talk about language---It's fuckin' impossible! here are some examples:
pho = soup (yeah, we know that already), but it also can mean street.
bo = father or bo = beef
ga = chicken or ga = train station
Ready for a quiz?
Would you rather have pho bo or pho ga ?
Not only that, but sua chua = yogurt or sua chua = mechanic.
The Vietnamese use little marks to indicate the tonal quality that helps distinguish the meaning of their words, but that refinement is totally lost on this dumb haole. I was told that there are four tonal qualities in Chinese and six in Vietnamese. I don't mean to be rude, I'm just pointing out a personal limitation.
Xin Chao (I *hope* that means goodbye, but a little knowledge is a dangerous thing!)
Vietnam Trip (Part II)
Train Trip to Lao Cai and Sapa
We were way out of touch for quite a few days and have been really busy since getting back to Hanoi. I gotta tell you right up front that this place has me totally overwhelmed. If it weren't for Mike, I would stay in a hotel room and watch Indonesian MTV. I can barely ask for a bathroom, am only one shade above holding out a handful of funny money and letting the vendors take what they want, and I don't have a clue about any of the Major Street names. Fortunately, Mike is giving the old man a royal tour and we have been having a ball.
Way back last Friday, we took off for Sapa in the far North frontier near China. Our plan was to take the motocycle by train and then tour and see the hill country and the 'minority tribes'.
First we had to move all of Mike's gear out of his hotel and store it with friends across town. That went fairly smoothly. His buddies are French who are here teaching people to speak French so that Hanoi can host the World Francophone Congress next fall. For a "Francophone" country, there aren't a lot of French speakers any more.
Went to have lunch with the Francophones at a restaurant that serves French food and Vietnamese food. One of the French guys made a comment about Mike and me eating Vietnamese food in a French restaurant. Mike made a comment back about eating French food in Vietnam. Get it? The Francophones didn't.
Went with Mike to his English classes. The first was at the French pharmaceutical company, Servier. Had a group of 8 or so doctors and pharmacists working on conversational English. I got to talk about Neugenesis and genetic engineering. They were sharp and asked lots of questions.
The evening classes were in business English and were taught at a local school. Met the other teachers beforehand. They were quite nice. Mike had me talk to his class and answer questions. They pumped me for my thoughts on cloning sheep and people. And lots of other stuff, too.
Mike is a great teacher--funny, challenging and very gentle.
Things got crazy when we tried to catch the night train to Lao Cai in the north. We wanted to bring Mike's Minsk 125 cc motorcycle and thought we had things wired. However, it turns out that on Fridays, and only Fridays, there are two trains to Lao Cai. One has sleepers and the other carries motorcycles. The mcycle train has only hard seats. After a lot of confusion, we at last got the tickets sorted out, the motorcycle on board and our butts on some *very hard* seats. Jam packed with all the chaos and destined to spend 12 hours that way.
Sheeez!
Not the greatest situation, but we did make lemonade from lemons. Met three Vietnamese doctors sitting opposite from us. They were young, friendly, conversant, and seemed quite well trained. They worked for Pharmaceutical companies (B. Braun and Glaxo-Welcome). Had a very nice time talking with them. As the evening wore on, we all grew sleepy and started to slump. And the seats got harder! Train noise and confusion. Food being sold out of baskets, etc. Many stops, more noise. Seats getting even harder. Falling asleep somehow. Pretty soon everyone was lying on each other. Some areas looked like a pile of puppy dogs (more thit cho). From the formal start when we were sitting properly, we finally degenerated into a sprawling mass of humanity. It was pretty funny to look at.
By morning, we had stiff necks, extremely sore asses and were nearly at Lao Cai. The weather was quite cool, but after visiting the head (i.e., the hole in the floor that people aim at), I could only wince at the thought of how delightful it would be on a hot Vietnamese day! Sorry for the scatological references again, but somehow the topic keeps cropping up over and over again.
Got the moto off the train. We didn't have a map, but no need. We ate dog and are macho! The way out of town wasn't hard to find and the countryside became very pastoral. Traveling along a river for 6 km and then the road started to climb. It never stopped climbing for the next 24 km. We gave Natasha Minsk a real work out. The scenery was awesome. There were vertical drop offs into river valleys thousands of feet below. Narrow roads but very little traffic (thank heaven). The little moto couldn't make it in second gear. We had to go down to first gear most of the time. Not surprising since we were asking one small moto to carry 440 lbs of Vann's (including backpacks).
The hillsides were terraced and we began to see people in traditional garb. Some bridge repair going on but no serious problems. Natasha got pretty hot and lost power. I had to walk the last km into Sapa village. But we made it and it was worth it! Sapa was a French highland retreat in earlier years. The weather was cool and foggy and we were in the clouds.
We found a hotel, not the cheapest by far, but still only $7 per nite for two.
On the mainstreet, the Hmong and Dao ladies were out in force selling handicrafts.
Saturday is a big "go to market day" in Sapa.
Food was cheap, too. Dinner for two including a big beer for Mike was about $3.
We had wanted to get to Sapa on Sat. night because there is a traditional "love market" scene. Basically, what is supposed to happen is that the guys and gals from different villages meet by singing songs to each other and that is the start of their courtship. Their music is pleasant, but we never actually saw the real thing taking place. Too many tourists seem to have intimidated the locals. Our Viet doctor friends did say that the was a little action at about 1:00 am, but Mike and I ware long gone before then. Anyway, I can't figure out exactly what it was we were expecting to see!
As far as the number of tourists, it really wasn't overwhelming. There was a smattering of folks from all over. Mostly young. I don't think we saw more than half a dozen Americans which would constitute about 10%or less of the non-Vietnamese tourists. Vietnamese tourists about equaled non-Viet. It wasn't crowded, but you could tell that things were changing and crowding is imminent.
We were way out of touch for quite a few days and have been really busy since getting back to Hanoi. I gotta tell you right up front that this place has me totally overwhelmed. If it weren't for Mike, I would stay in a hotel room and watch Indonesian MTV. I can barely ask for a bathroom, am only one shade above holding out a handful of funny money and letting the vendors take what they want, and I don't have a clue about any of the Major Street names. Fortunately, Mike is giving the old man a royal tour and we have been having a ball.
Way back last Friday, we took off for Sapa in the far North frontier near China. Our plan was to take the motocycle by train and then tour and see the hill country and the 'minority tribes'.
First we had to move all of Mike's gear out of his hotel and store it with friends across town. That went fairly smoothly. His buddies are French who are here teaching people to speak French so that Hanoi can host the World Francophone Congress next fall. For a "Francophone" country, there aren't a lot of French speakers any more.
Went to have lunch with the Francophones at a restaurant that serves French food and Vietnamese food. One of the French guys made a comment about Mike and me eating Vietnamese food in a French restaurant. Mike made a comment back about eating French food in Vietnam. Get it? The Francophones didn't.
Went with Mike to his English classes. The first was at the French pharmaceutical company, Servier. Had a group of 8 or so doctors and pharmacists working on conversational English. I got to talk about Neugenesis and genetic engineering. They were sharp and asked lots of questions.
The evening classes were in business English and were taught at a local school. Met the other teachers beforehand. They were quite nice. Mike had me talk to his class and answer questions. They pumped me for my thoughts on cloning sheep and people. And lots of other stuff, too.
Mike is a great teacher--funny, challenging and very gentle.
Things got crazy when we tried to catch the night train to Lao Cai in the north. We wanted to bring Mike's Minsk 125 cc motorcycle and thought we had things wired. However, it turns out that on Fridays, and only Fridays, there are two trains to Lao Cai. One has sleepers and the other carries motorcycles. The mcycle train has only hard seats. After a lot of confusion, we at last got the tickets sorted out, the motorcycle on board and our butts on some *very hard* seats. Jam packed with all the chaos and destined to spend 12 hours that way.
Sheeez!
Not the greatest situation, but we did make lemonade from lemons. Met three Vietnamese doctors sitting opposite from us. They were young, friendly, conversant, and seemed quite well trained. They worked for Pharmaceutical companies (B. Braun and Glaxo-Welcome). Had a very nice time talking with them. As the evening wore on, we all grew sleepy and started to slump. And the seats got harder! Train noise and confusion. Food being sold out of baskets, etc. Many stops, more noise. Seats getting even harder. Falling asleep somehow. Pretty soon everyone was lying on each other. Some areas looked like a pile of puppy dogs (more thit cho). From the formal start when we were sitting properly, we finally degenerated into a sprawling mass of humanity. It was pretty funny to look at.
By morning, we had stiff necks, extremely sore asses and were nearly at Lao Cai. The weather was quite cool, but after visiting the head (i.e., the hole in the floor that people aim at), I could only wince at the thought of how delightful it would be on a hot Vietnamese day! Sorry for the scatological references again, but somehow the topic keeps cropping up over and over again.
Got the moto off the train. We didn't have a map, but no need. We ate dog and are macho! The way out of town wasn't hard to find and the countryside became very pastoral. Traveling along a river for 6 km and then the road started to climb. It never stopped climbing for the next 24 km. We gave Natasha Minsk a real work out. The scenery was awesome. There were vertical drop offs into river valleys thousands of feet below. Narrow roads but very little traffic (thank heaven). The little moto couldn't make it in second gear. We had to go down to first gear most of the time. Not surprising since we were asking one small moto to carry 440 lbs of Vann's (including backpacks).
The hillsides were terraced and we began to see people in traditional garb. Some bridge repair going on but no serious problems. Natasha got pretty hot and lost power. I had to walk the last km into Sapa village. But we made it and it was worth it! Sapa was a French highland retreat in earlier years. The weather was cool and foggy and we were in the clouds.
We found a hotel, not the cheapest by far, but still only $7 per nite for two.
On the mainstreet, the Hmong and Dao ladies were out in force selling handicrafts.
Saturday is a big "go to market day" in Sapa.
Food was cheap, too. Dinner for two including a big beer for Mike was about $3.
We had wanted to get to Sapa on Sat. night because there is a traditional "love market" scene. Basically, what is supposed to happen is that the guys and gals from different villages meet by singing songs to each other and that is the start of their courtship. Their music is pleasant, but we never actually saw the real thing taking place. Too many tourists seem to have intimidated the locals. Our Viet doctor friends did say that the was a little action at about 1:00 am, but Mike and I ware long gone before then. Anyway, I can't figure out exactly what it was we were expecting to see!
As far as the number of tourists, it really wasn't overwhelming. There was a smattering of folks from all over. Mostly young. I don't think we saw more than half a dozen Americans which would constitute about 10%or less of the non-Vietnamese tourists. Vietnamese tourists about equaled non-Viet. It wasn't crowded, but you could tell that things were changing and crowding is imminent.
Vietnam Trip (Part I)
Arrival in Hanoi and trip to Ha Long Bay
This is the first chance I've had to report in since arriving in Hanoi the night of April 21. Mike has kept me very busy and I've been having a blast. On a scale of 10, this trip is already a 9.8, or better.
So much has happened that I wanted to write about that I finally have started carrying around a notecard and pen. I am jotting down keywords so that I can share the happenings with you. I only started doing this today when I realized I had been composing letters to you in my head which I would probably forget before they could be written down.
I'm going to start at my arrival and hopefully the chronological order will help me remember all (well, maybe just most---nah, nah, some) of the things which have happened.
I left Taiwan on Vietnam Air. Good planes, Aussie pilots, very well run. Only let down was the very standard "airline food". Arrived at Hanoi just at last light. Got out of the airport with Mr. Minh, who Mike had sent to pick me up. On the highway--it was not the Likelike! One lane each way. Scattered motorcycles (small) and bicycles. Not much light. Within minutes I had my first memorable experience. I was kinda chuckling at seeing a small truck with live pigs stacked in the back like bags of rice. But I was blown away a couple of minutes later when a motor cycle went by with two full grown pigs (alive) tied on like saddle bags!
Got to town in about 35-40 minutes. Began to notice the amount of horn blowing and chaos. Intersections? No problem. Just multiple flows passing through each other. No one stops. No one gets excited. More on the traffic later.
Arrived at Mike's Hotel, the Phu Gia. I thought it was called "Foo Ghia" but shortly found out it is pronounced "Foo Za" Since that rhymes with Rock Za (a noted Hawaiian nitespot), it became the first Vietnamese I mastered.
Mike was waiting for me. We carried my bags up to his 5th floor penthouse---well, at least it's a room on the roof. Actually, rather nice but not large or luxurious. Great view of the lake in the center of town and 360 deg of the skyline. Just a couple of highrises starting to emerge. Mostly, 5 floors is a lot in Hanoi.
I gave Mike his bag load of goodies. I was excited--it was like watching someone open Xmas presents.
Then we went out for some dinner. Had my first chance to practice street crossing without flinching or showing any panic. Noticed that some of the power and phone lines were hanging so low I had to duck them. Mike says that discussing the concept of "temporary wiring" was beyond the comprehension of his English class.
First dinner was at a low table totally local place. Tables are very low--to the ground. I swear they use furniture for playhouses. Doesn't fit either of the large haole Vanns very well. Good tasting food was eaten with trepidation.
I'll have to get this over right away....
Every meal brings intestinal anxiety to the fore for me. I don't think it matters where you eat--it's all scary. Standard procedure when served is to grab a paper napkin and wipe your glass, bowl and chopsticks. Having seen how things are "washed"--there's no doubt that it's a good idea to wipe first.
Getting to the bottom line...Good news so far. Acidophilus pills, fresh (?) yogurt and low grit Metamucil have staved off any health problems so far. Fingers crossed XXXXX!
Next Morning: Sunrise on the park in the lake. Tai Chi, badminton (sp?) and joggers. Not me, but I did see it going on. Also took great interest in the variation of badminton played with the feet instead of racquets. Those guys are really agile. Remedied me of really hot soccer playing.
Oh, I forgot the short walking tour of the Old Town--it's right next door to Mike's hotel. Each street has a specialty, Shoe street, clothing street, Pottery Street---you name it, you get the idea. My favorite place is duck street. Not because we saw any ducks, it was just that the awnings, wires and so forth are too low to stand up while walking.
Back to the next morning. Nice b'fast at Mike's hotel. Two choices, pho and a cold fried egg. Mike tells me they're always out of pho for haoles. Oh well. The hotel is a state-run operation and suffers from the problem of disconnecting service and reward.
Having said about the only negative thing I have to report about the my experiences so far, let me tell you that the Vietnamese we have met and dealt with are the nicest group I have ever come across. They are really friendly and playful. Lots of joking with big Mike and not a single bad vibe at all this trip! Mike and I had to ask directions the other night from a man and his wife. Somehow, the gal ended up pulling both our noses! I dunno what that was about, but we were all laughing like heck and then went on our way. [Note added later: maybe she thought we were water buffaloes. I dunno.]
Back to Tues am: getting around is mostly on bicycle or small motorcycle. We had to go across town on a couple of motorcycle taxis. Unfortunately the motorcycle taxi drivers have a serious macho image to maintain. Fortunately, no one can have a motorcycle larger that 125 cc. Since then, there have been a number of motorcycle rides through all the traffic--even at rush hour. Rather than be scared (a very strong survival instinct), I try to use my Aikido training. Settle awareness to the one spot. Do not resist. Visualize an impenetrable steel cage around my body. I haven't seen any collisions an any type so far. That is at least two orders of magnitude above most things that would be labeled "miracles". Somehow it works. Everyone is out there. Old, young, kids, families--you name it--on bikes and motorcycles. There isthe occasional car, bus, truck blasting through as well. And so it goes and so it works.
We went to Halong Bay yesterday and came back today. A good value at $20 each. Minibus to and from. Took 4-5 hours. Mostly very bumpy road and the seats are size Vietnamese. Even the country roads are full of bicycles and mcycles. The road is mostly a skinny one lane each way. No shoulder. lots of horn blowing and passing when there appears to be NO WAY OUT! Once again, I extended ki energy for protection. Once, I thought we were going to become grille ornaments for a very large truck headed right at us. But at the last minute, we got back to our 1/3 of the road safely. I heard the driver issue a mutter a couple of times and twice he yelled "AAARGHH". That was for bicyclists that nearly became road pizzas. Out of a total of about 9 hours of hiway madness, no deaths, no accidents and no stopping was a pretty good outcome.
There is a hierarchy of rules of the road. Cement trucks are No. 1, followed by busses, cars, big mcylces, small mcycles, bicycles, and then pedestrians. Oh yes, and throw in the cyclos somewhere.
Halong Bay exceeded expectations. Like everything I have seen so far, the infrastructure is primitive, the facilities borderline minimal, the roads congested and the people quite nice. We did a trip yesterday that was fabulous. There are 3,000 islands, and we only saw a fraction. Left on a tour boat in a major thunderstorm. Not windy, but the lightning was awesome. The rain stopped shortly. We went to an island and trekked a pretty neat cave. After we left, we went to another island where the boat driver said he would stop and we could go in small boats to see a sea tunnel if we paid a small increment to the boat (I think it was $1.50). I was reluctant to go because I've seen sea caves aplenty on Molokai. Just then a boatload of returnees passed by and a guy said "Do it. It's great!" We did go and the cave was so-so. A lot like the Molokai ones but the water was very still and less clear. When we got through the cave we looked around and saw that we were total enclosed by vertical cliffs rising easily 1000 feet on all sides! It was like a crater about 400 yards across. Totally enclosed. The only way in was through the tunnel. Never saw anything like that before! It was cloudy and getting late, but Mike and I jumped in for a quick swim. Pleasant temperature--like Hawaii.
Obviously, I was scoping out what it would be like to take the redboat cruising in those waters. It could be awesome and risky. For every rock that sticks up to become an island, how many lurk just below the surface? On the positive side, there was a nice 10-12 kt breeze most of the day.
Right now, there is probably no chance of a foreigner being able to bring a private yacht to Vietnam. But when the time comes, boating on Ha Long Bay is going to be fantastic.
Overnight hotel in Halong was OK; food was OK. We paid extra for the tour with "better foods", but after careful watching, the only difference we saw was one dish of fried shrimp-fritters. Oh well, it was all so cool, I could care less. As a recommendation to future travelers, don't pay for the "better foods".
The villages to/from Halong were all roadside disasters. The countryside is rice paddies and the towns are not so hot. People, kids, bikes, cycles, animals, trucks, etc. all blasting through town on a single skinny road. People trying to sell everything. Much is the same over and over.
I did notice that the villages seemed to have specialties like the streets in Hanoi. One city was coal city, another brick city, there was a city with countless stands selling yellow or white plastic jugs of some kind of sauce (at first I thought it was motor oil). Probably if you're in basket city, you'd have to go somewhere else to buy pottery.
It's weird. I'm not advocating Seven-Elevens, but maybe things would be better with more diversity. Soo, what does this haole know about a 2000 year old culture? Shut up, Doug!
Watching signs: the most popular words were com pho (restaurant), Bia Hoi (tap beer) and motorcycle repair. We also saw a lot of restaurants advertising Thit Cho. Tried some the other night before we saw the puppy dogs in the cages. Anyway, thit cho was great fixed three ways.
First, I had a dog named "Taco", the next one's gonna be "Thit Cho".
This is the first chance I've had to report in since arriving in Hanoi the night of April 21. Mike has kept me very busy and I've been having a blast. On a scale of 10, this trip is already a 9.8, or better.
So much has happened that I wanted to write about that I finally have started carrying around a notecard and pen. I am jotting down keywords so that I can share the happenings with you. I only started doing this today when I realized I had been composing letters to you in my head which I would probably forget before they could be written down.I'm going to start at my arrival and hopefully the chronological order will help me remember all (well, maybe just most---nah, nah, some) of the things which have happened.
I left Taiwan on Vietnam Air. Good planes, Aussie pilots, very well run. Only let down was the very standard "airline food". Arrived at Hanoi just at last light. Got out of the airport with Mr. Minh, who Mike had sent to pick me up. On the highway--it was not the Likelike! One lane each way. Scattered motorcycles (small) and bicycles. Not much light. Within minutes I had my first memorable experience. I was kinda chuckling at seeing a small truck with live pigs stacked in the back like bags of rice. But I was blown away a couple of minutes later when a motor cycle went by with two full grown pigs (alive) tied on like saddle bags!
Got to town in about 35-40 minutes. Began to notice the amount of horn blowing and chaos. Intersections? No problem. Just multiple flows passing through each other. No one stops. No one gets excited. More on the traffic later.
Arrived at Mike's Hotel, the Phu Gia. I thought it was called "Foo Ghia" but shortly found out it is pronounced "Foo Za" Since that rhymes with Rock Za (a noted Hawaiian nitespot), it became the first Vietnamese I mastered.
Mike was waiting for me. We carried my bags up to his 5th floor penthouse---well, at least it's a room on the roof. Actually, rather nice but not large or luxurious. Great view of the lake in the center of town and 360 deg of the skyline. Just a couple of highrises starting to emerge. Mostly, 5 floors is a lot in Hanoi.
I gave Mike his bag load of goodies. I was excited--it was like watching someone open Xmas presents.
Then we went out for some dinner. Had my first chance to practice street crossing without flinching or showing any panic. Noticed that some of the power and phone lines were hanging so low I had to duck them. Mike says that discussing the concept of "temporary wiring" was beyond the comprehension of his English class.
First dinner was at a low table totally local place. Tables are very low--to the ground. I swear they use furniture for playhouses. Doesn't fit either of the large haole Vanns very well. Good tasting food was eaten with trepidation.
I'll have to get this over right away....
Every meal brings intestinal anxiety to the fore for me. I don't think it matters where you eat--it's all scary. Standard procedure when served is to grab a paper napkin and wipe your glass, bowl and chopsticks. Having seen how things are "washed"--there's no doubt that it's a good idea to wipe first.
Getting to the bottom line...Good news so far. Acidophilus pills, fresh (?) yogurt and low grit Metamucil have staved off any health problems so far. Fingers crossed XXXXX!
Next Morning: Sunrise on the park in the lake. Tai Chi, badminton (sp?) and joggers. Not me, but I did see it going on. Also took great interest in the variation of badminton played with the feet instead of racquets. Those guys are really agile. Remedied me of really hot soccer playing.
Oh, I forgot the short walking tour of the Old Town--it's right next door to Mike's hotel. Each street has a specialty, Shoe street, clothing street, Pottery Street---you name it, you get the idea. My favorite place is duck street. Not because we saw any ducks, it was just that the awnings, wires and so forth are too low to stand up while walking.
Back to the next morning. Nice b'fast at Mike's hotel. Two choices, pho and a cold fried egg. Mike tells me they're always out of pho for haoles. Oh well. The hotel is a state-run operation and suffers from the problem of disconnecting service and reward.
Having said about the only negative thing I have to report about the my experiences so far, let me tell you that the Vietnamese we have met and dealt with are the nicest group I have ever come across. They are really friendly and playful. Lots of joking with big Mike and not a single bad vibe at all this trip! Mike and I had to ask directions the other night from a man and his wife. Somehow, the gal ended up pulling both our noses! I dunno what that was about, but we were all laughing like heck and then went on our way. [Note added later: maybe she thought we were water buffaloes. I dunno.]
Back to Tues am: getting around is mostly on bicycle or small motorcycle. We had to go across town on a couple of motorcycle taxis. Unfortunately the motorcycle taxi drivers have a serious macho image to maintain. Fortunately, no one can have a motorcycle larger that 125 cc. Since then, there have been a number of motorcycle rides through all the traffic--even at rush hour. Rather than be scared (a very strong survival instinct), I try to use my Aikido training. Settle awareness to the one spot. Do not resist. Visualize an impenetrable steel cage around my body. I haven't seen any collisions an any type so far. That is at least two orders of magnitude above most things that would be labeled "miracles". Somehow it works. Everyone is out there. Old, young, kids, families--you name it--on bikes and motorcycles. There isthe occasional car, bus, truck blasting through as well. And so it goes and so it works.
We went to Halong Bay yesterday and came back today. A good value at $20 each. Minibus to and from. Took 4-5 hours. Mostly very bumpy road and the seats are size Vietnamese. Even the country roads are full of bicycles and mcycles. The road is mostly a skinny one lane each way. No shoulder. lots of horn blowing and passing when there appears to be NO WAY OUT! Once again, I extended ki energy for protection. Once, I thought we were going to become grille ornaments for a very large truck headed right at us. But at the last minute, we got back to our 1/3 of the road safely. I heard the driver issue a mutter a couple of times and twice he yelled "AAARGHH". That was for bicyclists that nearly became road pizzas. Out of a total of about 9 hours of hiway madness, no deaths, no accidents and no stopping was a pretty good outcome.
There is a hierarchy of rules of the road. Cement trucks are No. 1, followed by busses, cars, big mcylces, small mcycles, bicycles, and then pedestrians. Oh yes, and throw in the cyclos somewhere.
Halong Bay exceeded expectations. Like everything I have seen so far, the infrastructure is primitive, the facilities borderline minimal, the roads congested and the people quite nice. We did a trip yesterday that was fabulous. There are 3,000 islands, and we only saw a fraction. Left on a tour boat in a major thunderstorm. Not windy, but the lightning was awesome. The rain stopped shortly. We went to an island and trekked a pretty neat cave. After we left, we went to another island where the boat driver said he would stop and we could go in small boats to see a sea tunnel if we paid a small increment to the boat (I think it was $1.50). I was reluctant to go because I've seen sea caves aplenty on Molokai. Just then a boatload of returnees passed by and a guy said "Do it. It's great!" We did go and the cave was so-so. A lot like the Molokai ones but the water was very still and less clear. When we got through the cave we looked around and saw that we were total enclosed by vertical cliffs rising easily 1000 feet on all sides! It was like a crater about 400 yards across. Totally enclosed. The only way in was through the tunnel. Never saw anything like that before! It was cloudy and getting late, but Mike and I jumped in for a quick swim. Pleasant temperature--like Hawaii.
Obviously, I was scoping out what it would be like to take the redboat cruising in those waters. It could be awesome and risky. For every rock that sticks up to become an island, how many lurk just below the surface? On the positive side, there was a nice 10-12 kt breeze most of the day.
Right now, there is probably no chance of a foreigner being able to bring a private yacht to Vietnam. But when the time comes, boating on Ha Long Bay is going to be fantastic.
Overnight hotel in Halong was OK; food was OK. We paid extra for the tour with "better foods", but after careful watching, the only difference we saw was one dish of fried shrimp-fritters. Oh well, it was all so cool, I could care less. As a recommendation to future travelers, don't pay for the "better foods".
The villages to/from Halong were all roadside disasters. The countryside is rice paddies and the towns are not so hot. People, kids, bikes, cycles, animals, trucks, etc. all blasting through town on a single skinny road. People trying to sell everything. Much is the same over and over.
I did notice that the villages seemed to have specialties like the streets in Hanoi. One city was coal city, another brick city, there was a city with countless stands selling yellow or white plastic jugs of some kind of sauce (at first I thought it was motor oil). Probably if you're in basket city, you'd have to go somewhere else to buy pottery.
It's weird. I'm not advocating Seven-Elevens, but maybe things would be better with more diversity. Soo, what does this haole know about a 2000 year old culture? Shut up, Doug!
Watching signs: the most popular words were com pho (restaurant), Bia Hoi (tap beer) and motorcycle repair. We also saw a lot of restaurants advertising Thit Cho. Tried some the other night before we saw the puppy dogs in the cages. Anyway, thit cho was great fixed three ways.
First, I had a dog named "Taco", the next one's gonna be "Thit Cho".
A Culinary Tour Of Vietnam (Day 26-30)
FRIDAY 8 MARCH: DAY 26
The day got off to a slow start with us catching up with Thuan at the Cuu Long Hotel. We sat there a long time waiting for the driver to show up, but Phuoc was apparently waiting for us at the Floating Hotel's carpark. Another surprise was sprung on us today with Thuan presenting us with a bill for $565 for the clapped out car that we'd thought we'd very carefully confirmed first at $200, then, absolutely finally, at $250. We were stunned enough to just let it go - we'd resolve the issue with Evan when we got back to Australia.
We said our goodbyes and walked over the the Ho Chi Minh Memorial Museum only to find it had closed (harassed along the way by a couple of persistent children). So we went back to Dong Khoi Street to look at antique shops and the historic hotels like the Caravelle, the Continental and the Rex. Actually the Rex is next to the square fronting the City Hall building and there were a lot of women dressed in white Ao Dais, many students. The reason is that it is Women's Day, the day women "get the day off" so to speak. After the Air Vietnam offices, we went for a 333 in the roof garden of the Rex Hotel, famous for its very kitch layout and as a watering hole for journalists during the American War. Then to the Givral for lunch, a famous gossip location during the war: grilled deer, beef and dry noodles and wild boar. While there, these two very tarty girls came in, obviously call-girls. They got very disapproving looks from the women workers (probably because of the padded bras).
Thuan went off to do some business and we sauntered off to Dong Khoi Street, then to the Floating Hotel. After arranging with Nicola to meet that night, we went off to get Thuan for another try at the Memorial Museum on the wharf. It is in the building that was the maritime hall from which Ho embarked for his world travels early this century. Later we returned to the Hotel for a clean-up, and watched half of "Total Recall". Chuong finally got through to us and we've arranged to meet tomorrow. Nicola was waiting in the lobby with a friend, Sarah, and we headed off to this new Indian Restaurant called the Delhi. The service was terrible, the food expensive and uncoordinated. Still we had a ripper of a time, which continued back in the Lobby Bar where we were joined by Adrienne, the training officer for the hotel. She and I had a pretty good talk about Vietnamese attitudes to customs, language, etc. Adrienne pointed out that Vietnamese probably think we're young because of our attitude - we don't behave like 40 year olds, so we can't be. She also agrees that the use of symbolism is a key feature; during her classes, the Vietnamese get enthusiastic about conceptual ideas. Two French guys showed up which led to an even bigger party and David and I ended up leaving about 12.30am, missing the end of "Total Recall".
SATURDAY 9 MARCH: DAY 27
The first event of the day was a two-hour boat ride on the Saigon river, with lots of rusting hulks and plenty of activity. On one side of the river was the industrial and city aspects, on the other a shanty town and rural setting that Thuan says is reminiscent of the Mekong Delta to the south.
At the end of the trip, Thuan ended up in a shitfight (a word we've taught him) over the price of 40,000d. As a farewell to Thuan, David paid for lunch in the restaurant of the Floating Hotel, which, for the three of us, came to a massive $54: Viet spring rolls, sweet and sour pork, spicy chicken, beef and vegetables, and rice with vegetables. We then wandered off to the old Saigon markets, then walked over to the Ben Thanh markets where we bought some souvenir-t-shirts. There were a considerable number of beggars, many scarred by war wounds. As we left Thuan at the front desk of the Floating Hotel, he hit on David for his Seven Sport jacket, saying it was getting cold in Hanoi and he didn't have a coat with him. He didn't get it, David telling him it was one of only 20 produced by the Network.
We got back to the Floating Hotel to do some filming in the kitchens, then caught up with the chief engineer, a Vietnamese boat person who'd spent 11 years in Sydney, and, as I said, he's still on a boat! He took us into the bowels of the ship, showing us the only boiler in Saigon, and telling us this great story about how their sophisticated ballast system had broken down, and how they're now using a plumb bob and a string.
For dinner, we went to the Givral with Chuong who'd finally caught up with us. He brought along two of his friends, English students, a guy called Quoc who is in the final stages of leaving for America, and a delightful beautiful girl called Nhu. We ended up splashing out big to the extent of 190,000d mainly on heaps of 333. David slipped Chuong US$100. Back at the Hotel, we took photos of everybody - apparently it's a status symbol to have been there. Nicola, Craig and co came along, trying to drag us down to the disco; they'd been to the German beerfest run by the Hotel in the forecourt area. We were supposed to have an early night, to pack and unwind but we ended up having a few more beers and watching some of David's video, which was fun, but stupid in the circumstances. We got to bed about 2am.
SUNDAY 10 MARCH: DAY 28
We both woke up to serious hangovers, as expected, and not enough time for breakfast. Thuan arrived to ferry us to the airport, and maybe to do Evan's photo of an Air Vietnam plane taking off - which didn't happen - nor did visiting the military plane graveyard at one end of the strip. Chuong, Quoc and Nhu came to say goodbye, which was nice of them. The departure lounge was in chaos, with no pattern to how you get your luggage checked in, etc. Thuan pushed through with our tickets and tried to sort out the problems. I was surprised to have him ask me if we'd reconfirmed the flight - held not only been there, but had actually dialled the number!
Worse was to come, I sauntered through customs, but David was detained for one and a half hours for smuggling antiques - the old iron he's bought in a Government gift shop right in front of Thuan! David was carrying it in his hand luggage and it showed up on the x-ray. It's a circumstance that Thuan must have been aware of, but gave us no warning. Luckily my incense burner, of similar antiquity, was in my big suitcase. To say the least, David was pissed off - and rightly so. It was sold openly in a gift store in a Government tourist hotel. Thuan was present at the time and you'd expect that a man with 20 year's experience in the Foreign Press Centre might have encountered this before. He even said to David that a certificate from some Department would have caused him no problems. Too late to tell him now. No one gave us any warning, and as a result, the iron was confiscated. David signed it over as a gift to Nicola, in the hope that she can bring it out when she comes to Australia in September.
In the Tan Son Nhut lounge chaos, we met an overseas Vietnamese (Viet Kieu) Mrs Kim, now resident in Perth. She married a Korean, so manages a Korean restaurant as well as a gift shop. She was in Saigon for Tet and suggested that she won't be back again. On the plane, we ended up sitting next to her. She was heavily laden down with lacquerware, items for her store. What she'd bought for one dollar, she'd sell in Perth for fifteen. We departed, arriving in Bangkok, settling into the Indra Regent about 5pm. Even though we'd eaten nothing today, we still didn't feel hungry, so we repacked all our declarable items into one bag, and walked around the markets, then retired early. Today, I came down with something, with stomach pains and the runs. We put it down to dinner at the Givral. David ate only his meal, while I shared the others? meals. Another possible explanation is that the first beer can arrived opened with water swimming in the top.
MONDAY 11 MARCH: DAY 29
Luxury! We slept in until 10am, then spent the rest of the day trying to shop. I needed some new jeans, work pants and work shirts but couldn't find anything I wanted. We lunched at what has become our haunt. I would have liked to try somewhere else, but I guess we were too exhausted to go through the-effort. We spent the last two hours in the Indra lobby drinking, before we took a cutrate limo to the airport for home. Flight movies: "Quigley Down Under" and "Rocky V".
TUESDAY 12 MARCH: DAY 30
Home at last! The flight was pretty uneventful. It was nowhere near full, so I grabbed a window seat behind David to make it easier to sleep. David slept, but I didn't. We breezed through Brisbane customs. With everything listed and categorised for inspection, there were no real hold-ups and no real questions. I was surprised that the tobacco and the bamboo pipes didn't receive more attention. Anna was waiting for us outside, driving us to my place where we split up the goodies. Linda had already returned the car with videos of stuff I'd missed over the four weeks.
I just gradually unpacked, sorted a few things out and dawdled around trying to remember where I'd hidden things like my wallet and my keys. About 7pm I went down Trevor and Rosanne's to get the mail and the key I gave them, then went back home to start watching videos. First meal back in Australia: pizza.
And so ends this adventure.
The day got off to a slow start with us catching up with Thuan at the Cuu Long Hotel. We sat there a long time waiting for the driver to show up, but Phuoc was apparently waiting for us at the Floating Hotel's carpark. Another surprise was sprung on us today with Thuan presenting us with a bill for $565 for the clapped out car that we'd thought we'd very carefully confirmed first at $200, then, absolutely finally, at $250. We were stunned enough to just let it go - we'd resolve the issue with Evan when we got back to Australia.
We said our goodbyes and walked over the the Ho Chi Minh Memorial Museum only to find it had closed (harassed along the way by a couple of persistent children). So we went back to Dong Khoi Street to look at antique shops and the historic hotels like the Caravelle, the Continental and the Rex. Actually the Rex is next to the square fronting the City Hall building and there were a lot of women dressed in white Ao Dais, many students. The reason is that it is Women's Day, the day women "get the day off" so to speak. After the Air Vietnam offices, we went for a 333 in the roof garden of the Rex Hotel, famous for its very kitch layout and as a watering hole for journalists during the American War. Then to the Givral for lunch, a famous gossip location during the war: grilled deer, beef and dry noodles and wild boar. While there, these two very tarty girls came in, obviously call-girls. They got very disapproving looks from the women workers (probably because of the padded bras).
Thuan went off to do some business and we sauntered off to Dong Khoi Street, then to the Floating Hotel. After arranging with Nicola to meet that night, we went off to get Thuan for another try at the Memorial Museum on the wharf. It is in the building that was the maritime hall from which Ho embarked for his world travels early this century. Later we returned to the Hotel for a clean-up, and watched half of "Total Recall". Chuong finally got through to us and we've arranged to meet tomorrow. Nicola was waiting in the lobby with a friend, Sarah, and we headed off to this new Indian Restaurant called the Delhi. The service was terrible, the food expensive and uncoordinated. Still we had a ripper of a time, which continued back in the Lobby Bar where we were joined by Adrienne, the training officer for the hotel. She and I had a pretty good talk about Vietnamese attitudes to customs, language, etc. Adrienne pointed out that Vietnamese probably think we're young because of our attitude - we don't behave like 40 year olds, so we can't be. She also agrees that the use of symbolism is a key feature; during her classes, the Vietnamese get enthusiastic about conceptual ideas. Two French guys showed up which led to an even bigger party and David and I ended up leaving about 12.30am, missing the end of "Total Recall".
SATURDAY 9 MARCH: DAY 27
The first event of the day was a two-hour boat ride on the Saigon river, with lots of rusting hulks and plenty of activity. On one side of the river was the industrial and city aspects, on the other a shanty town and rural setting that Thuan says is reminiscent of the Mekong Delta to the south.
At the end of the trip, Thuan ended up in a shitfight (a word we've taught him) over the price of 40,000d. As a farewell to Thuan, David paid for lunch in the restaurant of the Floating Hotel, which, for the three of us, came to a massive $54: Viet spring rolls, sweet and sour pork, spicy chicken, beef and vegetables, and rice with vegetables. We then wandered off to the old Saigon markets, then walked over to the Ben Thanh markets where we bought some souvenir-t-shirts. There were a considerable number of beggars, many scarred by war wounds. As we left Thuan at the front desk of the Floating Hotel, he hit on David for his Seven Sport jacket, saying it was getting cold in Hanoi and he didn't have a coat with him. He didn't get it, David telling him it was one of only 20 produced by the Network.
We got back to the Floating Hotel to do some filming in the kitchens, then caught up with the chief engineer, a Vietnamese boat person who'd spent 11 years in Sydney, and, as I said, he's still on a boat! He took us into the bowels of the ship, showing us the only boiler in Saigon, and telling us this great story about how their sophisticated ballast system had broken down, and how they're now using a plumb bob and a string.
For dinner, we went to the Givral with Chuong who'd finally caught up with us. He brought along two of his friends, English students, a guy called Quoc who is in the final stages of leaving for America, and a delightful beautiful girl called Nhu. We ended up splashing out big to the extent of 190,000d mainly on heaps of 333. David slipped Chuong US$100. Back at the Hotel, we took photos of everybody - apparently it's a status symbol to have been there. Nicola, Craig and co came along, trying to drag us down to the disco; they'd been to the German beerfest run by the Hotel in the forecourt area. We were supposed to have an early night, to pack and unwind but we ended up having a few more beers and watching some of David's video, which was fun, but stupid in the circumstances. We got to bed about 2am.
SUNDAY 10 MARCH: DAY 28
We both woke up to serious hangovers, as expected, and not enough time for breakfast. Thuan arrived to ferry us to the airport, and maybe to do Evan's photo of an Air Vietnam plane taking off - which didn't happen - nor did visiting the military plane graveyard at one end of the strip. Chuong, Quoc and Nhu came to say goodbye, which was nice of them. The departure lounge was in chaos, with no pattern to how you get your luggage checked in, etc. Thuan pushed through with our tickets and tried to sort out the problems. I was surprised to have him ask me if we'd reconfirmed the flight - held not only been there, but had actually dialled the number!
Worse was to come, I sauntered through customs, but David was detained for one and a half hours for smuggling antiques - the old iron he's bought in a Government gift shop right in front of Thuan! David was carrying it in his hand luggage and it showed up on the x-ray. It's a circumstance that Thuan must have been aware of, but gave us no warning. Luckily my incense burner, of similar antiquity, was in my big suitcase. To say the least, David was pissed off - and rightly so. It was sold openly in a gift store in a Government tourist hotel. Thuan was present at the time and you'd expect that a man with 20 year's experience in the Foreign Press Centre might have encountered this before. He even said to David that a certificate from some Department would have caused him no problems. Too late to tell him now. No one gave us any warning, and as a result, the iron was confiscated. David signed it over as a gift to Nicola, in the hope that she can bring it out when she comes to Australia in September.
In the Tan Son Nhut lounge chaos, we met an overseas Vietnamese (Viet Kieu) Mrs Kim, now resident in Perth. She married a Korean, so manages a Korean restaurant as well as a gift shop. She was in Saigon for Tet and suggested that she won't be back again. On the plane, we ended up sitting next to her. She was heavily laden down with lacquerware, items for her store. What she'd bought for one dollar, she'd sell in Perth for fifteen. We departed, arriving in Bangkok, settling into the Indra Regent about 5pm. Even though we'd eaten nothing today, we still didn't feel hungry, so we repacked all our declarable items into one bag, and walked around the markets, then retired early. Today, I came down with something, with stomach pains and the runs. We put it down to dinner at the Givral. David ate only his meal, while I shared the others? meals. Another possible explanation is that the first beer can arrived opened with water swimming in the top.
MONDAY 11 MARCH: DAY 29
Luxury! We slept in until 10am, then spent the rest of the day trying to shop. I needed some new jeans, work pants and work shirts but couldn't find anything I wanted. We lunched at what has become our haunt. I would have liked to try somewhere else, but I guess we were too exhausted to go through the-effort. We spent the last two hours in the Indra lobby drinking, before we took a cutrate limo to the airport for home. Flight movies: "Quigley Down Under" and "Rocky V".
TUESDAY 12 MARCH: DAY 30
Home at last! The flight was pretty uneventful. It was nowhere near full, so I grabbed a window seat behind David to make it easier to sleep. David slept, but I didn't. We breezed through Brisbane customs. With everything listed and categorised for inspection, there were no real hold-ups and no real questions. I was surprised that the tobacco and the bamboo pipes didn't receive more attention. Anna was waiting for us outside, driving us to my place where we split up the goodies. Linda had already returned the car with videos of stuff I'd missed over the four weeks.
I just gradually unpacked, sorted a few things out and dawdled around trying to remember where I'd hidden things like my wallet and my keys. About 7pm I went down Trevor and Rosanne's to get the mail and the key I gave them, then went back home to start watching videos. First meal back in Australia: pizza.
And so ends this adventure.
A Culinary Tour Of Vietnam (Day 21-25)
SUNDAY 3 MARCH: DAY 21
After rising at 6.15am and with just a coffee for breakfast (story: there's this music playing, very western-oriented. I ask Thuan and he says it's Viet. I ask what the lyrics were about and he says they're in English. David and I look at each other. He asks somebody else and finds out it's Lao), we set off with a new driver and a detbur to the markets to buy David a towel for China Beach. We got the towel, but ended up at a beach at Marble Mountain. I point this out to David. He tells Thuan it's the wrong side of Marble Mountain. Thuan says we should do the Water Mountain Pagoda, and do China Beach later. Both David and I are dumbstruck. For two days, using a map, we have told Thuan the plan is 1: we must do the Pagoda between 11am and 12 noon, 2: this means we go to China Beach first, 3: do Hoi An last. The whole day was about to be screwed up. David said, well, we'll just have to go back to China Beach. There was some debate about not being able to swim there, which was irrelevant to actually being there.
I suggest that with three hours, we could do Hoi An first, then Marble Mountain at l1am, then China Beach. So that's what we do, but David and I are astounded at the difficulties we have with Thuan. As it turns out, luck was with us and the day was actually better for the change of plans. The overcast morning, when we would have been swimming, gave way to a lovely sunny day. Hoi An was interesting. It's said to be the oldest surviving town in South East Asia, but its main period was 16th/17th Century when there was a thriving international trade involving Japanese, Chinese, Indians and Portugese. We examined the town's oldest house and Thuan said it was 101 years old and I thought that's not so special as my house is 85 years old. It turns out that Thuan had mistaken the house number (101) for the age. It is actually 200 years old and had been in the same family for 5 generations. Its internal timbers show Viet, Japanese and Chinese influences. It was built by merchants who must have been wealthy to have afforded the workmanship, including long boards inlaid with mother-of-pearl Chinese poems.
In this area, there are also remnants of the war - shell casings stacked against a shop wall, just rusting, and a stripped tank in the shadow of one of the Marble Mountains. On the way back from Hoi An we stopped at a roadside brickworks and got a great shot of workers unloading the kiln. I spoke to one, Nguyen Hau Chung, who told me that he'd been to Cambodia as a soldier four times. At the base of Water Mountain, we are immediately beseiged by girls selling marble carvings ("you buy from me", "not now, maybe later", "not maybe, certainly"). Up 157 steps we reach the Huyen Khong Grotto dominated by a large Buddha and filled with incense smoke. The various caves here were used to launch mortars and rockets on the American airbase to the North, and the Americans bombed the mountain in 1972. The girls tell us that the bombs created the large holes that now let in the light. After buying a portrait of Ho Chi Minh in marble (David got a statue of Quan Am - the Goddess of Mercy), we ate beef and noodles at the Non Nuoc Hotel right on the beach. Here we met a guy we'd met yesterday, he and his friends had come down on scooters for the day.
Then it was off to China Beach for a swim. It was pretty damn good actually, with coracles and longboats on the shore and warm clean water. David writes a huge "China Beach" in the sand. We met a cyclo driver on the beach with very good English, enough to read the word "Australian" on David's t-shirt. We returned to the Hotel where Thuan and the driver went off to see if we could get rail tickets. Our washing arrives - two days' worth for $2. David and I then decided to demolish the contents of our bar fridge with scotch and Cokes and Sapporo. At 7.30, Thuan hadn't returned and we decided to retire to the restaurant to drink some more. By 8.30 he still hadn't returned so we ordered spring rolls with beef and noodles. We spent a lot of time laughing at the discrepancies between the two guide books David has, while trying to study up Nha Thung - the upshot was me saying "just another fucking Vietnamese town". The moment I said that, the lambada started. We cracked up. Thuan, with the driver in tow finally turned up about 9pm saying there were no train tickets left.
David and I then decided to do our sums and, in the process, play up the poverty angle. David later called it ?economic terrorism" as we sat at the restaurant table with bits of paper, biros and a calculator adding up all the bits and pieces. The outcome seems to be that we get the train or we fly to Ho Chi Minh City - which according to Thuan is actually cheaper than the two legs by train. David later said that he suspected that Thuan and the driver had cooked up a deal to drive to Nha Trang, and they did seem pretty chummy. Anyway, we'll know by 10am tomorrow. A blackout occurred during this discussion and the waitress came out with candles - like it happened all the time - but David and I thought of Phnom Penh.
Features: a new nickname for Thuan (apart from Bluey) Mr Magic. Another Thuan remark: yesterday he said we could possibly go south by bus if not train. We'd thought of that too. Today he said we can't go by bus because it's against Foreign Press Centre policy. Why raise it in the first place?
MONDAY 4 MARCH: DAY 22
"Sometimes the only way to stay on the road is to get off it (for repairs)".
David
We checked out and went across the road for coffee. The place was run by this old guy who was in the underground against the French and Americans for 33 years. He said that his happiest moment was when he heard that Ban Me Thuot had fallen in 1975, because he knew then that Saigon was next. We meet our new driver Nguyen Huu Phuoc (201 Ong Ich Khiem) who we discover is a light hearted guy who drives like a bat out of hell.
The road south to Nha Trung was characterised by its shoulders being used as drying corridors for incense, manioc (used for pig food), manioc flour and harvested rice. We also noted corrugated iron laid out for passing traffic to flatten, or guys with hammers pounding out the corrugations. It was also the first time I'd seen woodburning, steam-driven vehicles - minibuses. Speaking of buses, we passed a still smouldering one, the fire of which was so intense that the middle section had sagged into a heap. Thuan said we couldn't stop because the police were there. Thuan also made a point of saying that's the reason the Foreign Press Centre won't allow its clients to travel on buses. The other feature of the drive were these huge salt pans, which looked a lot like empty rice paddies, even to the point of being ploughed.
But one of the two key events of the day was the side trip to My Lai, along this really bad road. Highway One is also full of bad stretches and being cramped up in this small Peugeot doesn't help, especially as dust filters up through the bodywork. At My Lai, the hamlet has been turned into a memorial and a museum which was closed at the time we were there. We saw where the original houses stood with the names of those killed, and also a ditch where a major massacre took place. In all, some 347 people, mostly women and children, were murdered by the Americans. We also met and talked with a survivor who was 11 at the time. He had hidden in the rice paddies outside the hamlet. Only five people in the hamlet itself that day survived. A short stop for lunch, just before we leave Quang Ngai, opposite a National Liberation Front cemetary.
The other key event was the breakdown of our car. It blew some ball bearing in a wheel which had to come off - we weren't the least bit surprised considering the state of the car and the road. It took three and a half hours to fix on the roadside at night, the entire time of which David and i were surrounded by curious children. Something else I've noticed since getting to Da Nang parents obviously use Westerners as bogeymen to frighten children. Three times so far adults have dragged struggling children towards us, the children getting more panic-stricken the closer they got. Nonetheless the kids spent the time with us saying "Hello", "Goodbye", "Where are you (from)", "What is the time", "What is your name", and doing things like shaking my hand, checking the hair on my arm or just staring.
"Think of Qui Nhon and quinine - don't take it unless you have to."
David
The delay meant that we didn't arrive in Qui Nhon until after 9pm, ending up in a very seedy hotel, the Viet Cuong (where rumour has it, there resides a female ghost who opens doors at night). David is far from impressed and won't go into the bathroom/toilet, and we mention to Thuan that next time, we upgrade - there must at least be hot water, a clean bathroom and decent mosquito nets. The meal down the street also left a lot to be desired and in fact David didn't eat, preferring to knock off some ice cold beers (bucket at the table by request).
TUESDAY 5 MARCH: DAY 23
"Where's the local brothel, and do they boil the women first?"
David, Qui Nhon.
Much dithering concerning replacement part for the car got us off later than expected. First visit was the beach with possibility of a swim. That idea was squashed quickly with the view of all the solid sewage coming in on the tide. David calls it "Toilet Beach". The location however was very scenic with fishing boats pulled up for repainting and others being built with hand tools. We also had our morning coffee here using a new idea of David's - to dilute the thick Vietnamese coffee with supplied hot water. Then off on Highway One to Nha Trung on one of the worst roads I've ever travelled on - for 200km. Sights included another burnt out bus, several broken down (a feature of this road and no wonder), an overturned truck in the middle of the road, hundreds of acres of eucalypts in areas presumably defoliated - the untreed areas had that look about them. Lunch was at a great beach resort, Dai Lanh, although we were the only ones there. The resort area is reached by a Japanese style bridge and is shaded by scores of needle pines. We enjoyed a swim here in crystal clear water. A magnificent place to escape - when they get rid of the flies.
It took us about eight hours to cover the 200km. The hotel in Nha Trung is right on the beach front, called the Thong Nhat. For a princely US$17 we've got a great room on the second floor. Dinner in the restaurant was also impressive (apart from the ice-cold 333): David had steak and chips, Phuoc and Thuan shared a kidney and tongue dish and a fish soup (with its own charcoal burner), and I took the plunge and ordered vinegar beef. What arrived was a whole plate of fresh salad (tomatoes, lettuce, mint, parsley and a basil-type leaf) - like a good tourist I'd tried avoiding dishes with fresh salads. Oh well. Also a whole plate of raw beef marinated in vinegar, ginger and apparently pork fat, several sheets of rice paper and a charcoal burner. The idea is to create a kind of spring roll with the meat cooked in the burner, then wrapped in the rice paper with salad, then dunked in fish sauce. I asked Thuan whether the liquid for the steamboat is actually used as a soup. He said no - unlike his fish soup, the remains were not good enough. Shortly, he filled my bowl with rice and spooned the fluid on to it - a soup. During dinner we nicknamed the aging white Peugeot of Phuocls "white lightning" - by his blank reaction, it's possible Thuan stuffed up the translation. David buys a ?Nha Trang, a Good Place for Resort" baseball cap. After dinner, David and I went for a walk along the beach front. Music was playing over the street loudspeaker to a pitch black beach. Several beer garden places were open but the action was slow so David and I returned to the room.
WEDNESDAY 6 MARCH: DAY 24
"Roadworks? Sure doesn't"
Bill
After a breakfast of Pho Bo we set off for the Cham ruins of Po-Nagar, and thence to the fish markets. I thought it should be the other way around, fish markets usually start early, and a later time for the Cham ruins would have suited me as I would have been photographing into the sun. Sure enough, I couldn't get a decent shot of the ruins, and the fish market had finished by the time we got there. However, from Po-Nagar there was a great view of the giant Buddha of Lang Son, erected by the monks because of the overthrow of Diem - this is where the first monk, who self-immolated in 1963 Saigon, lived. Then it was off to Dalat via Cam Ranh Bay and Phan Rang. Cam Ranh was interesting because of all the recycled war materials, particularly metal stripping. We weren't allowed to enter the military installation - the Soviets are actually in the process of pulling out, but we made do on a nearby part of the bay with cans of San Miguel. From there it was a good run down to Phan Rang where there was yet more dithering finding a place to eat, the Huu Nghi (Friendship) Hotel. Phuoc re-parks the car so that he can see it from where he sits to eat. En route, more Cham, ruins by the road. One of three towers was totally dismantled, the remaining two dilapidated. Phuoc opportunely took the wheel off again while we visited the ruins. As we moved inland toward Dalat, the topography changed and so did the housing styles. The houses here are built with wide timber boards, mostly vertical, sometimes horizontal, and sometimes with very ornate woodwork.
On this leg, Phuoc did the usual trick of taking the wheel off a second time, so we did our usual stunt of walking ahead to surprise the locals. This time we got a little more than we bargained for, by passing a schoolyard packed with kids. Sure enough, scores of them swarmed toward us. We had found a sugar processing plant nearby, where they were making what I took to be fudge, pouring the melted sugar into moulds and letting it set. Thuan reckons it's just the first stage of making low grade sugar. Everyone got a great kick out of us being there - except the police, who detained us for creating a public disturbance. Thuan was not pleased but talked his way out of it at the police station at Xuong Xe. For David and I, it was just another thrilling adventure. As we moved into drier territory, we came to the mountain road, 4000 feet very quickly, which killed three buses (the passengers sitting around while the driver dismantled the engine), but the road had very little traffic. We passed the massive earth dam of Da Nimh which provides water via a huge pipeline down the mountainside to a hydroelectric power station, which we were told was built with Japanese war reparations. At the point where the pipes crossed the road, police were on guard with AK47s.
As the light failed, we came to the Prenn Waterfall, an idyllic spot (pay to enter), but time was pressing. We arrived in Dalat at 7pm - nine and a half hours to travel about 240km. After trying to book in at the historic Palace Hotel, we got a third floor room in the Dalat Hotel (where we paid the top room rate - $18), a place of faded glory and an elevator that didn't work. Dinner was a piss-up downstairs with plenty of 333. I ordered roast deer, David beef with noodles, Thuan and Phuoc a kind of potato and meat bone soup, and pork and beans with white rice. While at dinner we received an invitation to the regular dance in the hotel. From the description given by Thuan, it's actually a call-girl set-up. David decided that it would be fun to film, so he went, but I was more interested in some peace and quiet.
David came back about 11.30pm with tales of interest. The dance in fact featured a live band, the one I'd heard three floors up doing woeful tango and lambada impressions. There were about 100 people there, mostly very capable dancers. Apparently you can pay 10,000d to have a girl dance with you (which is a bit pointless if you don't speak Vietnamese). David and Thuan sat and watched the action until closing (10.30). Then three of the "available" ladies joined them for drinks. David found out that (for Europeans at least) they cost between $40 and $50.
THURSDAY 7 MARCH: DAY 25
"When Thuan said 'deer' last night,
did he mean 'deer' or 'dear'?
And did we eat expensive dog?"
David
We woke up before 7am. to the swoop of swifts outside our window, and headed off to breakfast with the team: bread, cheese and coffee with the same amorphous disco music we had at dinner. The aim was to get out of Dalat as quickly as possible to push on to Ho Chi Minh City and the day ended up being one of stark contrasts. First stop was the church next door which we'd mistaken for an historic building, although it was obviously brand new.
We headed off to the markets, the most impressive feature for me being the carvings of sandlewood, not to mention the beggars again. I find the presence of beggars in an avowedly socialist country a disconcerting contradiction. Next was the legendary lake which turned out to be artificial, and quite boring. We did shoot some of the old style Swiss villas that the French had built. But because they are now officials' buildings, and a police officer went past at the same time, Thuan had some more explaining to do. At the Prenn Falls, we stopped to buy some bottled water to the sounds of ?The Magnificent Seven? (the Marlboro Man theme) and ?Bonanza?.
We got our first flat tyre of the day in a place that features minority peoples and their documented shyness was demonstrated very clearly by a group of very wary children. We were further delayed getting the puncture mended, then lost another hour or so at lunch in Bao Loc. Noodles, chicken liver, beans and cucumber, banana fish, rice and of course, cold 333. Many beggars came our way here during lunch, amputees, young children, old women, and a young mother with child. Somewhere in the distance, the Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays" was being played. We got our second flat at the halfway point (140km to go) and at that stage I noticed that the tyre was Angkor Wat brand, made in Cambodia. With another stop for "relaxing" (I took a long walk looking for tobacco drying), and yet another to repair a brake drum outside Bien Hoa, the 300km trip took about nine and a half hours.
As we got to Ho Chi Minh City, we got waylaid by the police because Phuoc got stuck in a major intersection. We finally got to the Cuu Long Hotel (the old Majestic) to find out the rooms were $55. So David and I took our leave and walked up to the Saigon Floating Hotel to catch up with Nicola Cooke and check out the discounts for friends of the management. They were virtually full, but Nicola got us in at half price ($75) where David volunteered that we needed some luxury after our many hardships and said he would pay for the three days himself. As we walked out the front door, the doorman said "Good evening, sir. You look very handsome in your hat". It was a far cry from last year's "see you later".
Saigon seems even flashier and faster than last year with new hotels and new neon signs. I don't think Thuan took our staying at the Floating Hotel too well, particularly since we probably won't be having a final dinner with him. David and I had arranged to see Nicola later that evening which didn't eventuate, but we had a couple of 333s in the Lobby bar at about four times the "outside" price. So we went back to our room and watched "Ghost" on TV, seriously raiding the bar fridge at the same time. Now that's an amazing shift in perspective in one days travel.
After rising at 6.15am and with just a coffee for breakfast (story: there's this music playing, very western-oriented. I ask Thuan and he says it's Viet. I ask what the lyrics were about and he says they're in English. David and I look at each other. He asks somebody else and finds out it's Lao), we set off with a new driver and a detbur to the markets to buy David a towel for China Beach. We got the towel, but ended up at a beach at Marble Mountain. I point this out to David. He tells Thuan it's the wrong side of Marble Mountain. Thuan says we should do the Water Mountain Pagoda, and do China Beach later. Both David and I are dumbstruck. For two days, using a map, we have told Thuan the plan is 1: we must do the Pagoda between 11am and 12 noon, 2: this means we go to China Beach first, 3: do Hoi An last. The whole day was about to be screwed up. David said, well, we'll just have to go back to China Beach. There was some debate about not being able to swim there, which was irrelevant to actually being there.
I suggest that with three hours, we could do Hoi An first, then Marble Mountain at l1am, then China Beach. So that's what we do, but David and I are astounded at the difficulties we have with Thuan. As it turns out, luck was with us and the day was actually better for the change of plans. The overcast morning, when we would have been swimming, gave way to a lovely sunny day. Hoi An was interesting. It's said to be the oldest surviving town in South East Asia, but its main period was 16th/17th Century when there was a thriving international trade involving Japanese, Chinese, Indians and Portugese. We examined the town's oldest house and Thuan said it was 101 years old and I thought that's not so special as my house is 85 years old. It turns out that Thuan had mistaken the house number (101) for the age. It is actually 200 years old and had been in the same family for 5 generations. Its internal timbers show Viet, Japanese and Chinese influences. It was built by merchants who must have been wealthy to have afforded the workmanship, including long boards inlaid with mother-of-pearl Chinese poems.
In this area, there are also remnants of the war - shell casings stacked against a shop wall, just rusting, and a stripped tank in the shadow of one of the Marble Mountains. On the way back from Hoi An we stopped at a roadside brickworks and got a great shot of workers unloading the kiln. I spoke to one, Nguyen Hau Chung, who told me that he'd been to Cambodia as a soldier four times. At the base of Water Mountain, we are immediately beseiged by girls selling marble carvings ("you buy from me", "not now, maybe later", "not maybe, certainly"). Up 157 steps we reach the Huyen Khong Grotto dominated by a large Buddha and filled with incense smoke. The various caves here were used to launch mortars and rockets on the American airbase to the North, and the Americans bombed the mountain in 1972. The girls tell us that the bombs created the large holes that now let in the light. After buying a portrait of Ho Chi Minh in marble (David got a statue of Quan Am - the Goddess of Mercy), we ate beef and noodles at the Non Nuoc Hotel right on the beach. Here we met a guy we'd met yesterday, he and his friends had come down on scooters for the day.
Then it was off to China Beach for a swim. It was pretty damn good actually, with coracles and longboats on the shore and warm clean water. David writes a huge "China Beach" in the sand. We met a cyclo driver on the beach with very good English, enough to read the word "Australian" on David's t-shirt. We returned to the Hotel where Thuan and the driver went off to see if we could get rail tickets. Our washing arrives - two days' worth for $2. David and I then decided to demolish the contents of our bar fridge with scotch and Cokes and Sapporo. At 7.30, Thuan hadn't returned and we decided to retire to the restaurant to drink some more. By 8.30 he still hadn't returned so we ordered spring rolls with beef and noodles. We spent a lot of time laughing at the discrepancies between the two guide books David has, while trying to study up Nha Thung - the upshot was me saying "just another fucking Vietnamese town". The moment I said that, the lambada started. We cracked up. Thuan, with the driver in tow finally turned up about 9pm saying there were no train tickets left.
David and I then decided to do our sums and, in the process, play up the poverty angle. David later called it ?economic terrorism" as we sat at the restaurant table with bits of paper, biros and a calculator adding up all the bits and pieces. The outcome seems to be that we get the train or we fly to Ho Chi Minh City - which according to Thuan is actually cheaper than the two legs by train. David later said that he suspected that Thuan and the driver had cooked up a deal to drive to Nha Trang, and they did seem pretty chummy. Anyway, we'll know by 10am tomorrow. A blackout occurred during this discussion and the waitress came out with candles - like it happened all the time - but David and I thought of Phnom Penh.
Features: a new nickname for Thuan (apart from Bluey) Mr Magic. Another Thuan remark: yesterday he said we could possibly go south by bus if not train. We'd thought of that too. Today he said we can't go by bus because it's against Foreign Press Centre policy. Why raise it in the first place?
MONDAY 4 MARCH: DAY 22
"Sometimes the only way to stay on the road is to get off it (for repairs)".
David
We checked out and went across the road for coffee. The place was run by this old guy who was in the underground against the French and Americans for 33 years. He said that his happiest moment was when he heard that Ban Me Thuot had fallen in 1975, because he knew then that Saigon was next. We meet our new driver Nguyen Huu Phuoc (201 Ong Ich Khiem) who we discover is a light hearted guy who drives like a bat out of hell.
The road south to Nha Trung was characterised by its shoulders being used as drying corridors for incense, manioc (used for pig food), manioc flour and harvested rice. We also noted corrugated iron laid out for passing traffic to flatten, or guys with hammers pounding out the corrugations. It was also the first time I'd seen woodburning, steam-driven vehicles - minibuses. Speaking of buses, we passed a still smouldering one, the fire of which was so intense that the middle section had sagged into a heap. Thuan said we couldn't stop because the police were there. Thuan also made a point of saying that's the reason the Foreign Press Centre won't allow its clients to travel on buses. The other feature of the drive were these huge salt pans, which looked a lot like empty rice paddies, even to the point of being ploughed.
But one of the two key events of the day was the side trip to My Lai, along this really bad road. Highway One is also full of bad stretches and being cramped up in this small Peugeot doesn't help, especially as dust filters up through the bodywork. At My Lai, the hamlet has been turned into a memorial and a museum which was closed at the time we were there. We saw where the original houses stood with the names of those killed, and also a ditch where a major massacre took place. In all, some 347 people, mostly women and children, were murdered by the Americans. We also met and talked with a survivor who was 11 at the time. He had hidden in the rice paddies outside the hamlet. Only five people in the hamlet itself that day survived. A short stop for lunch, just before we leave Quang Ngai, opposite a National Liberation Front cemetary.
The other key event was the breakdown of our car. It blew some ball bearing in a wheel which had to come off - we weren't the least bit surprised considering the state of the car and the road. It took three and a half hours to fix on the roadside at night, the entire time of which David and i were surrounded by curious children. Something else I've noticed since getting to Da Nang parents obviously use Westerners as bogeymen to frighten children. Three times so far adults have dragged struggling children towards us, the children getting more panic-stricken the closer they got. Nonetheless the kids spent the time with us saying "Hello", "Goodbye", "Where are you (from)", "What is the time", "What is your name", and doing things like shaking my hand, checking the hair on my arm or just staring.
"Think of Qui Nhon and quinine - don't take it unless you have to."
David
The delay meant that we didn't arrive in Qui Nhon until after 9pm, ending up in a very seedy hotel, the Viet Cuong (where rumour has it, there resides a female ghost who opens doors at night). David is far from impressed and won't go into the bathroom/toilet, and we mention to Thuan that next time, we upgrade - there must at least be hot water, a clean bathroom and decent mosquito nets. The meal down the street also left a lot to be desired and in fact David didn't eat, preferring to knock off some ice cold beers (bucket at the table by request).
TUESDAY 5 MARCH: DAY 23
"Where's the local brothel, and do they boil the women first?"
David, Qui Nhon.
Much dithering concerning replacement part for the car got us off later than expected. First visit was the beach with possibility of a swim. That idea was squashed quickly with the view of all the solid sewage coming in on the tide. David calls it "Toilet Beach". The location however was very scenic with fishing boats pulled up for repainting and others being built with hand tools. We also had our morning coffee here using a new idea of David's - to dilute the thick Vietnamese coffee with supplied hot water. Then off on Highway One to Nha Trung on one of the worst roads I've ever travelled on - for 200km. Sights included another burnt out bus, several broken down (a feature of this road and no wonder), an overturned truck in the middle of the road, hundreds of acres of eucalypts in areas presumably defoliated - the untreed areas had that look about them. Lunch was at a great beach resort, Dai Lanh, although we were the only ones there. The resort area is reached by a Japanese style bridge and is shaded by scores of needle pines. We enjoyed a swim here in crystal clear water. A magnificent place to escape - when they get rid of the flies.
It took us about eight hours to cover the 200km. The hotel in Nha Trung is right on the beach front, called the Thong Nhat. For a princely US$17 we've got a great room on the second floor. Dinner in the restaurant was also impressive (apart from the ice-cold 333): David had steak and chips, Phuoc and Thuan shared a kidney and tongue dish and a fish soup (with its own charcoal burner), and I took the plunge and ordered vinegar beef. What arrived was a whole plate of fresh salad (tomatoes, lettuce, mint, parsley and a basil-type leaf) - like a good tourist I'd tried avoiding dishes with fresh salads. Oh well. Also a whole plate of raw beef marinated in vinegar, ginger and apparently pork fat, several sheets of rice paper and a charcoal burner. The idea is to create a kind of spring roll with the meat cooked in the burner, then wrapped in the rice paper with salad, then dunked in fish sauce. I asked Thuan whether the liquid for the steamboat is actually used as a soup. He said no - unlike his fish soup, the remains were not good enough. Shortly, he filled my bowl with rice and spooned the fluid on to it - a soup. During dinner we nicknamed the aging white Peugeot of Phuocls "white lightning" - by his blank reaction, it's possible Thuan stuffed up the translation. David buys a ?Nha Trang, a Good Place for Resort" baseball cap. After dinner, David and I went for a walk along the beach front. Music was playing over the street loudspeaker to a pitch black beach. Several beer garden places were open but the action was slow so David and I returned to the room.
WEDNESDAY 6 MARCH: DAY 24
"Roadworks? Sure doesn't"
Bill
After a breakfast of Pho Bo we set off for the Cham ruins of Po-Nagar, and thence to the fish markets. I thought it should be the other way around, fish markets usually start early, and a later time for the Cham ruins would have suited me as I would have been photographing into the sun. Sure enough, I couldn't get a decent shot of the ruins, and the fish market had finished by the time we got there. However, from Po-Nagar there was a great view of the giant Buddha of Lang Son, erected by the monks because of the overthrow of Diem - this is where the first monk, who self-immolated in 1963 Saigon, lived. Then it was off to Dalat via Cam Ranh Bay and Phan Rang. Cam Ranh was interesting because of all the recycled war materials, particularly metal stripping. We weren't allowed to enter the military installation - the Soviets are actually in the process of pulling out, but we made do on a nearby part of the bay with cans of San Miguel. From there it was a good run down to Phan Rang where there was yet more dithering finding a place to eat, the Huu Nghi (Friendship) Hotel. Phuoc re-parks the car so that he can see it from where he sits to eat. En route, more Cham, ruins by the road. One of three towers was totally dismantled, the remaining two dilapidated. Phuoc opportunely took the wheel off again while we visited the ruins. As we moved inland toward Dalat, the topography changed and so did the housing styles. The houses here are built with wide timber boards, mostly vertical, sometimes horizontal, and sometimes with very ornate woodwork.
On this leg, Phuoc did the usual trick of taking the wheel off a second time, so we did our usual stunt of walking ahead to surprise the locals. This time we got a little more than we bargained for, by passing a schoolyard packed with kids. Sure enough, scores of them swarmed toward us. We had found a sugar processing plant nearby, where they were making what I took to be fudge, pouring the melted sugar into moulds and letting it set. Thuan reckons it's just the first stage of making low grade sugar. Everyone got a great kick out of us being there - except the police, who detained us for creating a public disturbance. Thuan was not pleased but talked his way out of it at the police station at Xuong Xe. For David and I, it was just another thrilling adventure. As we moved into drier territory, we came to the mountain road, 4000 feet very quickly, which killed three buses (the passengers sitting around while the driver dismantled the engine), but the road had very little traffic. We passed the massive earth dam of Da Nimh which provides water via a huge pipeline down the mountainside to a hydroelectric power station, which we were told was built with Japanese war reparations. At the point where the pipes crossed the road, police were on guard with AK47s.
As the light failed, we came to the Prenn Waterfall, an idyllic spot (pay to enter), but time was pressing. We arrived in Dalat at 7pm - nine and a half hours to travel about 240km. After trying to book in at the historic Palace Hotel, we got a third floor room in the Dalat Hotel (where we paid the top room rate - $18), a place of faded glory and an elevator that didn't work. Dinner was a piss-up downstairs with plenty of 333. I ordered roast deer, David beef with noodles, Thuan and Phuoc a kind of potato and meat bone soup, and pork and beans with white rice. While at dinner we received an invitation to the regular dance in the hotel. From the description given by Thuan, it's actually a call-girl set-up. David decided that it would be fun to film, so he went, but I was more interested in some peace and quiet.
David came back about 11.30pm with tales of interest. The dance in fact featured a live band, the one I'd heard three floors up doing woeful tango and lambada impressions. There were about 100 people there, mostly very capable dancers. Apparently you can pay 10,000d to have a girl dance with you (which is a bit pointless if you don't speak Vietnamese). David and Thuan sat and watched the action until closing (10.30). Then three of the "available" ladies joined them for drinks. David found out that (for Europeans at least) they cost between $40 and $50.
THURSDAY 7 MARCH: DAY 25
"When Thuan said 'deer' last night,
did he mean 'deer' or 'dear'?
And did we eat expensive dog?"
David
We woke up before 7am. to the swoop of swifts outside our window, and headed off to breakfast with the team: bread, cheese and coffee with the same amorphous disco music we had at dinner. The aim was to get out of Dalat as quickly as possible to push on to Ho Chi Minh City and the day ended up being one of stark contrasts. First stop was the church next door which we'd mistaken for an historic building, although it was obviously brand new.
We headed off to the markets, the most impressive feature for me being the carvings of sandlewood, not to mention the beggars again. I find the presence of beggars in an avowedly socialist country a disconcerting contradiction. Next was the legendary lake which turned out to be artificial, and quite boring. We did shoot some of the old style Swiss villas that the French had built. But because they are now officials' buildings, and a police officer went past at the same time, Thuan had some more explaining to do. At the Prenn Falls, we stopped to buy some bottled water to the sounds of ?The Magnificent Seven? (the Marlboro Man theme) and ?Bonanza?.
We got our first flat tyre of the day in a place that features minority peoples and their documented shyness was demonstrated very clearly by a group of very wary children. We were further delayed getting the puncture mended, then lost another hour or so at lunch in Bao Loc. Noodles, chicken liver, beans and cucumber, banana fish, rice and of course, cold 333. Many beggars came our way here during lunch, amputees, young children, old women, and a young mother with child. Somewhere in the distance, the Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays" was being played. We got our second flat at the halfway point (140km to go) and at that stage I noticed that the tyre was Angkor Wat brand, made in Cambodia. With another stop for "relaxing" (I took a long walk looking for tobacco drying), and yet another to repair a brake drum outside Bien Hoa, the 300km trip took about nine and a half hours.
As we got to Ho Chi Minh City, we got waylaid by the police because Phuoc got stuck in a major intersection. We finally got to the Cuu Long Hotel (the old Majestic) to find out the rooms were $55. So David and I took our leave and walked up to the Saigon Floating Hotel to catch up with Nicola Cooke and check out the discounts for friends of the management. They were virtually full, but Nicola got us in at half price ($75) where David volunteered that we needed some luxury after our many hardships and said he would pay for the three days himself. As we walked out the front door, the doorman said "Good evening, sir. You look very handsome in your hat". It was a far cry from last year's "see you later".
Saigon seems even flashier and faster than last year with new hotels and new neon signs. I don't think Thuan took our staying at the Floating Hotel too well, particularly since we probably won't be having a final dinner with him. David and I had arranged to see Nicola later that evening which didn't eventuate, but we had a couple of 333s in the Lobby bar at about four times the "outside" price. So we went back to our room and watched "Ghost" on TV, seriously raiding the bar fridge at the same time. Now that's an amazing shift in perspective in one days travel.
A Culinary Tour Of Vietnam (Day 16-20)
TUESDAY 26 FEBRUARY: DAY 16
"Does this train stop between Hanoi and Hue?" Bill
"Saigon." Thuan
Our last day in Hanoi was spent going to the Revolutionary Museum crawling with schoolkids, (unusual little display we haven't seen elsewhere - a small glass case with memorabilia of the western anti-war movement: a small metal badge with "War Is Bad For Children And Other Living Things" as well as a broad tie with peace symbols all over), then trying to buy the latest copy of Thailand's Nation to see how the land war is going.
The journos at the guest house say that Hussein is pulling out of Kuwait but that this is not enough for the allies - Bush wants a public back-down. We sent some more cards from the Buu Dien and then to the Department Store to buy some souvenirs - lacquer wood. David buys a rarity at an art shop, a collection of Vietnamese stamps with dinosaurs on it - 2000d, about 33 cents. One last lunch at the guest house with the journos: David of UPI, Nevada, Frank Koller of CBC and Bill Crawford. We hear that from April 1 foreign residents will come under some new high income tax system, there's also a new tax on imported foreign cars. Also US firms have many unofficial representatives in the North on tours, but the Vietnamese do not know if they will return, considering the US economic blockade.
Off to the station to catch the Reunification Express south to Hue.We're in second class, I think - six to a cabin in tiered bunks too close together to sit up in and typically hard. The train has steel shutters instead of glass because children used to throw rocks at the train and break the windows. In our cabin is Thuan, a German guy and his Viet girlfriend and another Viet guy. The countryside south is miles and miles of rice paddies. One of the train employees pointed out that I had the straw mat on my bunk upside down (!) so I fixed it and thanked him. Thuan apparently couldn't arrange to bunk down with us and is in another carriage. But he spent most of his time with us. He reckons the Viet girl is a contract worker in Germany here for Tet holidays with her German boyfriend. David spat the dinner supplied in the dining car out the window into the gathering twilight. Twilight brought Nimh Binh Province which is like Ha Long Bay on land, with great karst hills rising suddenly from the plain. Sleep was punctuated by the cacophony at Vinh - a town destroyed by the Vietnamese to stop the French, and later razed to the ground by US bombing. People swarmed along the darkened train hawking food at the top of the voices. Sleep.
WEDNESDAY 27 FEBRUARY: DAY 17
"What this country needs is a damn good bombing"
David
Coffee lady on train: Manh Tran Thi, 42/273 Huynh Dinh Hai Street, Binh Thanh District, Ho Chi Minh City. She spoke excellent English, better than Thuan. This happens to us every day, somewhere. After daybreak, we crossed the DMZ which after some 20 years still bears the scars of the huge carpet bombing campaign This, despite a concerted effort to fill in the bomb craters. We cross the Ben Hai bridge on the historic 17th parallel. Lambada on the train loudspeaker! (Thuan says that disco music makes you feel good). Lunch on the train in the restaurant car was most interesting, not appetising: some kind of fried cabbage, pork, spinach or celery soup, rice, sauce and Bia Ba Ba. The eggs were fried - orange in color.
Just a short distance from Hue, about 3Okm I guess, the train was stopped by an accident ahead. We're not sure, but we believe it was a derailment. People just got out of the train, bought sugar cane stalks, and idly passed the time sitting on the tracks. One even did his washing and hung it on a nearby tree. We seemed to attract every small foodstuffs business from the surrounding countryside, and various gambling games of dice and cards started up. The train ended up being delayed some eight hours; we never saw the accident and discovered that we were only 7km from Hue. The German guy and Viet girl got off to hitch a ride or catch a bus into Hue shortly after we stopped. Even so, the delay was entertaining; apart from sleep, we went for a walk along the road and met some of the locals. A 4pm quote: "If we're still here tomorrow, we should revise our schedule" - David. We ended up being invited into the next compartment to share tea with a bunch of railway surveyors, which was great fun. One spoke passable English, while another spoke good French. They seemed keen on us going to Dalat. We told them - next time.
Just before the train started moving again, Thuan translated an announcement over the PA system. It seems that everyone was being asked if anyone had seen the two foreigners who wandered off up the road - us. Much laughter ensued. (Train guys: c/- Dao Trong Tien, Phong Duong Sat, Vien T.K.G.T.V.T.,278 Ton Duc Thang Street, Hanoi).
We arrived in the old imperial capital of Hue about 7pm, the full moon reflected in the Perfumed River, disembarked and got Thuan to argue with the cyclo drivers (20,000d for three of us) and proceeded to our hotel the Huong Giang (Perfumed River) 51 Le Loi Street. Passed a bicyclist who told us he was a medical student and spoke exemplary English - yes, the Hanoi women are very "slender". Music en route - Michael Jackson's "Beat It" seems to be a lot of dance places. The hotel was originally built or used as an ARVN officer billet. The main building is quite plush - with a Channel Seven logo on the noticeboard (John D'Arcy from Beyond 2000?), but we are shunted off to the cheaper section (which is fine by us at $20 a night), a three bed dormitory. We ate on the third floor of this hotel on a balcony overlooking the river: spring rolls, grilled chicken, lean pork and rice. The meal was excellent with Hue Beer, then 333 all for only 50,000d. During the meal we ask Thuan a crucial question. We know that every foreigner is given a special nickname by people at the Press Centre. Ours turned out to be Bill: Con De Vietnam (Vietnamese Son-InLaw) relating to the fact that I'm not married and like Vietnamese women, and David: Vui Tinh (Open Man) referring to his welcoming openness about all things Vietnamese. Evan's was very obvious: Dieu Thuoc Lao (Tobacco Man). The other thing about Hue is the incredible silence (except for the colored lighted dance clubs) and the lack of street lighting.
THURSDAY 28 FEBRUARY: DAY 18
Like so many days in Vietnam - this is a day not to forget. So many wonderful experiences. The day started early (7.30) though David had been up since 5.30 shooting fishermen on the river amid the early morning mist. With the by now totally expected Boney M and Lambada, we had a breakfast of spring rolls and filtered Cafe Au Lait on the open balcony of the hotel then walked to the bridge across the Perfumed River (a euphemism) to the Dong Ba Markets. These were fairly typical markets although I got some good shots of "coolie" hats and hopefully one of a "butcher's" shop. After one of Thuan's ?shit fights" with the locals, we hired a boat to take us to the Huong Pagoda now known as Thien Mu (as in "heaven", as in Tien An Min Square - apparently designed by a Vietnamese architect). The motorised sampan had an amazing leak (OK for 40,000d) and a wierdo. Thuan was polite about him, saying he talked too much, but his eyes suggested more. Thuan said ?alcohol?, I suspected more.
The boat trip was spectacular, from the departure behind the markets where old women squatted down to piss on the riverbank, and others washed vegetables in this "perfumed" river, under three bridges, past sampans inches above submersion because of their loads of sand (the river is so shallow, people dredge by hand), to the climb up the riverside steps to the Pagoda itself. Inside the grounds, we met a monk who spoke English. He joined when he was 13 - he is now 30 - and he was taught by a monk who is now 90 and had been at the pagoda for 50 years. The Pagoda wasn't really open so we missed a clear sight of the array of large bronze Buddhas behind slatted doors.
Suddenly a group of girls arrive, shattering our belief that the most beautiful women in Vietnam come from Hanoi, but we are surprised to discover that they are Hanoi girls, University students wearing beautiful Ao Dais. They were beautiful and, to say the least, distracting. The novices were also interesting with their shaved heads, but with a long strand of hair at the front tucked behind their ears. We also met a surgeon from Danang whose English, again, was pretty good, and David met an overseas Vietnamese who is a linguistics teacher at Tokyo University. We are dying of heat and dehydration. Our wierdo friend tried to chat up a European girl at the Pagoda, and she reported him - he tried to persuade me to let her onto our boat back, but it was clear he was making a pass, so I said "no". Anyway, he was detained and we didn't encounter him again.
We asked to be dropped off by the bridge and we walked back through the old French Quarter which was not only pretty boring, but also hot. The Hue climate is conducive to sweating. One of the best kept French colonial buildings we have seen in Vietnam turned out to be the police headquarters, and naturally, we couldn't shoot it. As we returned to our hotel, we bought some Coke from a hunchbacked Vietnamese dwarf. David and I spent 100,000d each on antiques at the gift shop, mine an incense burner, David's a coal-fired iron 100 years old. Thuan tells us his favourite beer is 333 - ours is "cold".
After a lunch of pork, fried noodles and beer, we hired cyclos to go to the citadel, but within metres of our hotel I spotted a group of young people in a park with rifles. They were doing their obligatory 15 days a year military training. We settled in for some filming, but because a lot of the students had some English, we ended up talking to them. I was surrounded by young girls, one 21 year old, absolutely delightful, doing the talking. I was enchanted. They asked what I was doing, where I was going, if i was married (I said "No, I'm looking for a Vietnamese girl"), how old I was (they didn't believe I was 41). One girl called out "I love you", then bolted with embarassment. The girl I was talking to said I was handsome - these are the moments you live for. I will remember forever squatting down in a park by the Perfumed River, surrounded by beautiful girls.
Rifle kids: Trinh Van Tung, Lop Phap 4 - Khoa Phap, Dai Hoc Su Pham, Hue.
On to the citadel where the Tet Offensive raged some 23 years ago, wreaking no small havoc on this historic place. Though the United Nations is assisting in its repair, there is still a lot of visible damage from bullets and shells. Here I met an American architecture student on a one year study grant of "urbanisation in South East Asia". On our return, we stopped at a "floating restaurant" for a few drinks (we taught them the bucket routine - beer in the ice, not ice in the beer) and spring rolls as we watched the darkness descend upon Hue. Here another wierd conjunction occured - we actually heard ?Lara?s Theme" from Dr Zhivago, and the theme from ?The Good The Bad And The Ugly" sung in Vietnamese. We walked back to the hotel, no street lights, "another adventure" as Thuan would say.
Dinner was again on the balcony of the Huong Giang - and I had the meal of the same name, a kind of fried rice with chicken. Thuan had fried shrimp and David had the same noodle meal from lunch. Plus, we got plastered. A good time. David told me I talk too much when I get drunk. I don't think I talk enough when I'm sober. Oh well. Thuan told us about his family and house in Hanoi where they grow herbs and vegetables. Interesting that the tiny Vietnamese apples grow only in the North. Geckos in the room near the lights - reminds us of Cambodia.
FRIDAY 1 MARCH: DAY 19
"Thuan, what kind of soup is this?" Bill
"It's a very good soup." Thuan
This is the 15th day of Tet - Ram Thang Gieng - the most important day of the Buddhist year. Danang is the destination today. Thuan has arranged a clapped out car for this leg of the trip, so that we can see the impressive Hai Van Pass where the train goes through tunnels. First, we tie up a few loose ends in Hue. At breakfast we listen to fragments of Radio Australia and Voice of America played loudly for us by the restaurant staff. We also meet two Australians from the Northern Territory. They are tourists, and although not veterans, they've been obsessed with Vietnam for years - a product of their generation, they said. The car took us through a residential quarter, then on to Ho Chi Minh's old school which he attended in 1908 (Giap and Diem also were students here), and back to the citadel for a few more shots.
Thuan thought we should visit at least one of the tombs of Vietnam's emperors, Khai Dinh. He ruled for nine years at the turn of the century and was father to Bao Dai. His mausoleum took 11 years to construct. It's an imposing concrete structure of moulded carvings and statuettes, but the interior is more interesting with paintings and patterns made out of smashed porcelain and glass bottles gathered from all over the empire (I found a few bits of a sake bottle with the word "Tokyo" still visible) intricately assembled into pictures. Then on to Danang, picturesque trip but relatively uneventful. The Hai Van Pass wasn't really all that spectacular, especially if you'd done the Dien Bien Phu road. The views were generally obscured by mist although on a couple of occasions, there were great scenes of sandy beaches. At the top of the pass, there is a complex of forts, beginning with an ancient Cham one, and added on are French and Japanese bunkers. By the roadside we came across some artillery shells, just lying there rusting away. David video?d me bouncing one large shell in my hands! Then as we descended toward Danang, we caught sight of the radar domes on Son Tra which provided the American aircraft with directions en route to bomb our beloved north. Danang is a fairly grubby city with packed streets and lots of beggars; apparently the unemployment rate is fairly high here.
First stop was the hotel, The Sports Hotel, which appears designed to cater for tourists even though it's in a totally nondescript area. When the receptionist found out that we were from Australia, she told us that she had two brothers in Sydney. We had a late lunch of stir fried kidneys and vegetables, squid and pork soup, venison with sesame seeds, spring rolls and rice. But the nice surprise was finding 500ml cans of Sapporo beer for only 5,800d each (A$1). After lunch we set off to the Cham Museum where there are exhibits dating from the 4th to the 14th centuries. It was pretty depressing because much of the statuary was damaged in some way, but I had a good time with a group of students who thought I was Russian and tried to practise on me.
We had a confusing time trying to find the old American CORDS HQ which was supposed to be a War Crimes Museum now. Neither the street nor the museum currently existed, so we were doubtful when a building was pointed out to us. The other location we went for was Cafe Select which still had the grenade screens from when it was an American hangout. The name has changed. Then to the railway station Ga Danang where Thuan informed us that we couldn't get tickets to Nha Trung. Uh oh. While there we met a guy who repaired helicopters for the Americans at the airbase back when. He just approached our car and started talking to us. Last stop was a Cao Dai Temple where we were lucky enough to arrive while a service was in progress. I couldn't really take photos, although David got some video, but the service was very interesting for its ritualistic content - plus the mix of religious flavours: Buddhist style chanting, Christian style hand-across-body gestures, Buddhist flags, etcetera. The front of the service was dominated by a huge sphere with a radiating eye on it. Fascinating.
The food in this place is pretty damn good; dinner tonight was spicy beef in black bean sauce, spring rolls (different from the ones at lunch which were long and cut diagonally) shrimp and vegetable soup with rice. Thuan is strange - he asked us what we wanted to eat, but he had already ordered the food. (Sometimes in the car Thuan will point out something of interest, but the explanation is gibberish. David and I just look at each other).
Later in the evening, David and I went for a walk along a couple of Danang streets, careful to avoid the holes in the pavement through which could be seen evil-looking drains with black water. It was quite fun, although the kids here seem more agressively cheerful. Best line of the night came from three girls in a shop crammed with watches and clocks: "what time is it?" they asked.
SATURDAY 2 MARCH: DAY 20
Our plan to drive to China Beach, Marble Mountain and Hoi An went astray as our driver had to return to Hue because his company had found higher paying guests! Thuan had some business to do so we ended up basically sitting around until we decided to roam off. Our first stop was a construction site where cement was being shovelled up level by level to a third floor, and where many of the manual workers were women. We met a persistently cheerful cyclist who followed us for a few streets. We couldn't be rude about this, but he was distracting. We walked through the main market building which was typically cramped with stalls along narrow alleyways. Across the road at a stall where David got his memento - an original M16 ammunition knapsack - we met a delightful little schoolgirl whose English was pretty damn good. She told us she was home from school for lunch, how her mother taught her English and so forth. Further down the road we came across a stall selling bogus Coca Cola in a brown bottle much like beer bottles. It was made locally as it bore the word Danang in tiny script. Naturally we were subjected to the usual cries of "Lien Xo", but surprisingly we were picked twice as Australians and once as Americans. Lunch was pork and noodles, beef and noodles, octopus and noodles - and Sapporo.
After lunch Thuan joined us and we went back to the Cao Dai temple. I met an old man there who showed me an English explanation of the church. The huge sphere with the eye on it was the Universal Globe with the Eye of God (Thien Nhan), the symbol of absolute truth, luminosity and everlasting existence. The religion blends elements of Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, Lao Tsu and Confucianism. Whew. We then entered a printing shop which although very friendly was fairly ordinary, although here was one of the places where the ever-present lottery tickets are printed. We ended up at the Buu Dien down at the waterfront to post some cards. While there, David sat down with a group of teenage girls studying English, who were great fun. He told me he was also told "I love you" by one of the girls. As we walked back to the hotel, I unsuccessfully tried to set up a shot of schoolgirls on bicycles wearing white Ao Dais. Oh well.
Dinner tonight was probably our worst in this hotel (not to say it was bad - just not up to the amazing quality to date): pork and fried noodles, chateaubriand and chips, chicken and fried rice. I tried for frogs legs but none were available. Tonight we decided to drop in on the teacher David met at the Cao Dai temple to give him some English language magazines. (Tran Quoc Cong, 34/7 Hai Phong; wife Huong and daughter Nguyen, 4 on 23 April). We went to the address he gave David, and were invited in, with all the neighbours watching at the door, while we tried to find out where he was. The family spoke only a little French. After leaving a message and setting off back to our hotel we did meet him on the road and he explained that the address he gave David was for his brother's home. He was somewhast agitated to know that we'd been visiting - he was paranoid about being reported to the police for meeting foreigners - the implication being that he was planning to leave the country. He views his situation as stemming from his being a Northern Catholic whose family fled in 1954 when he was not yet one year old, and prior to 1975, he was taught by Americans. He did not end up in a re-education camp but he said that his past stops him getting a good job. As a government English teacher, he earns 40,000d a month (we spent half that on three cans of Heineken to drink with him). Finally we settled into a pokey sidewalk cafe. While there, he viewed with suspicion a man who sat behind us and was startled when a car suddenly pulled up on the other side of the street. His wife, whom we met briefly, works as an administrator in a hospital. He told us four letters held sent to America, and letters and parcels sent to him had gone astray. His favourite book, he said, was Erich Fromm's "Art Of Loving" and he wanted more books but took pains to point out that we should mail such things to a foreign resident here who could pass it on through the internal mail. Also any books we send should have no pictures as there is a greater liklihood of them getting "lost" en route to him.
The suggestion was that Danang, as a Southern city, was considered less politically reliable than Hanoi and more provincial than Ho Chi Minh City - hence his position is riskier living here. We left him about 10pm. I'm still not certain how to treat much of what he told us, but it's one of the more disturbing events of this tour.
"Does this train stop between Hanoi and Hue?" Bill
"Saigon." Thuan
Our last day in Hanoi was spent going to the Revolutionary Museum crawling with schoolkids, (unusual little display we haven't seen elsewhere - a small glass case with memorabilia of the western anti-war movement: a small metal badge with "War Is Bad For Children And Other Living Things" as well as a broad tie with peace symbols all over), then trying to buy the latest copy of Thailand's Nation to see how the land war is going.
The journos at the guest house say that Hussein is pulling out of Kuwait but that this is not enough for the allies - Bush wants a public back-down. We sent some more cards from the Buu Dien and then to the Department Store to buy some souvenirs - lacquer wood. David buys a rarity at an art shop, a collection of Vietnamese stamps with dinosaurs on it - 2000d, about 33 cents. One last lunch at the guest house with the journos: David of UPI, Nevada, Frank Koller of CBC and Bill Crawford. We hear that from April 1 foreign residents will come under some new high income tax system, there's also a new tax on imported foreign cars. Also US firms have many unofficial representatives in the North on tours, but the Vietnamese do not know if they will return, considering the US economic blockade.
Off to the station to catch the Reunification Express south to Hue.We're in second class, I think - six to a cabin in tiered bunks too close together to sit up in and typically hard. The train has steel shutters instead of glass because children used to throw rocks at the train and break the windows. In our cabin is Thuan, a German guy and his Viet girlfriend and another Viet guy. The countryside south is miles and miles of rice paddies. One of the train employees pointed out that I had the straw mat on my bunk upside down (!) so I fixed it and thanked him. Thuan apparently couldn't arrange to bunk down with us and is in another carriage. But he spent most of his time with us. He reckons the Viet girl is a contract worker in Germany here for Tet holidays with her German boyfriend. David spat the dinner supplied in the dining car out the window into the gathering twilight. Twilight brought Nimh Binh Province which is like Ha Long Bay on land, with great karst hills rising suddenly from the plain. Sleep was punctuated by the cacophony at Vinh - a town destroyed by the Vietnamese to stop the French, and later razed to the ground by US bombing. People swarmed along the darkened train hawking food at the top of the voices. Sleep.
WEDNESDAY 27 FEBRUARY: DAY 17
"What this country needs is a damn good bombing"
David
Coffee lady on train: Manh Tran Thi, 42/273 Huynh Dinh Hai Street, Binh Thanh District, Ho Chi Minh City. She spoke excellent English, better than Thuan. This happens to us every day, somewhere. After daybreak, we crossed the DMZ which after some 20 years still bears the scars of the huge carpet bombing campaign This, despite a concerted effort to fill in the bomb craters. We cross the Ben Hai bridge on the historic 17th parallel. Lambada on the train loudspeaker! (Thuan says that disco music makes you feel good). Lunch on the train in the restaurant car was most interesting, not appetising: some kind of fried cabbage, pork, spinach or celery soup, rice, sauce and Bia Ba Ba. The eggs were fried - orange in color.
Just a short distance from Hue, about 3Okm I guess, the train was stopped by an accident ahead. We're not sure, but we believe it was a derailment. People just got out of the train, bought sugar cane stalks, and idly passed the time sitting on the tracks. One even did his washing and hung it on a nearby tree. We seemed to attract every small foodstuffs business from the surrounding countryside, and various gambling games of dice and cards started up. The train ended up being delayed some eight hours; we never saw the accident and discovered that we were only 7km from Hue. The German guy and Viet girl got off to hitch a ride or catch a bus into Hue shortly after we stopped. Even so, the delay was entertaining; apart from sleep, we went for a walk along the road and met some of the locals. A 4pm quote: "If we're still here tomorrow, we should revise our schedule" - David. We ended up being invited into the next compartment to share tea with a bunch of railway surveyors, which was great fun. One spoke passable English, while another spoke good French. They seemed keen on us going to Dalat. We told them - next time.
Just before the train started moving again, Thuan translated an announcement over the PA system. It seems that everyone was being asked if anyone had seen the two foreigners who wandered off up the road - us. Much laughter ensued. (Train guys: c/- Dao Trong Tien, Phong Duong Sat, Vien T.K.G.T.V.T.,278 Ton Duc Thang Street, Hanoi).
We arrived in the old imperial capital of Hue about 7pm, the full moon reflected in the Perfumed River, disembarked and got Thuan to argue with the cyclo drivers (20,000d for three of us) and proceeded to our hotel the Huong Giang (Perfumed River) 51 Le Loi Street. Passed a bicyclist who told us he was a medical student and spoke exemplary English - yes, the Hanoi women are very "slender". Music en route - Michael Jackson's "Beat It" seems to be a lot of dance places. The hotel was originally built or used as an ARVN officer billet. The main building is quite plush - with a Channel Seven logo on the noticeboard (John D'Arcy from Beyond 2000?), but we are shunted off to the cheaper section (which is fine by us at $20 a night), a three bed dormitory. We ate on the third floor of this hotel on a balcony overlooking the river: spring rolls, grilled chicken, lean pork and rice. The meal was excellent with Hue Beer, then 333 all for only 50,000d. During the meal we ask Thuan a crucial question. We know that every foreigner is given a special nickname by people at the Press Centre. Ours turned out to be Bill: Con De Vietnam (Vietnamese Son-InLaw) relating to the fact that I'm not married and like Vietnamese women, and David: Vui Tinh (Open Man) referring to his welcoming openness about all things Vietnamese. Evan's was very obvious: Dieu Thuoc Lao (Tobacco Man). The other thing about Hue is the incredible silence (except for the colored lighted dance clubs) and the lack of street lighting.
THURSDAY 28 FEBRUARY: DAY 18
Like so many days in Vietnam - this is a day not to forget. So many wonderful experiences. The day started early (7.30) though David had been up since 5.30 shooting fishermen on the river amid the early morning mist. With the by now totally expected Boney M and Lambada, we had a breakfast of spring rolls and filtered Cafe Au Lait on the open balcony of the hotel then walked to the bridge across the Perfumed River (a euphemism) to the Dong Ba Markets. These were fairly typical markets although I got some good shots of "coolie" hats and hopefully one of a "butcher's" shop. After one of Thuan's ?shit fights" with the locals, we hired a boat to take us to the Huong Pagoda now known as Thien Mu (as in "heaven", as in Tien An Min Square - apparently designed by a Vietnamese architect). The motorised sampan had an amazing leak (OK for 40,000d) and a wierdo. Thuan was polite about him, saying he talked too much, but his eyes suggested more. Thuan said ?alcohol?, I suspected more.
The boat trip was spectacular, from the departure behind the markets where old women squatted down to piss on the riverbank, and others washed vegetables in this "perfumed" river, under three bridges, past sampans inches above submersion because of their loads of sand (the river is so shallow, people dredge by hand), to the climb up the riverside steps to the Pagoda itself. Inside the grounds, we met a monk who spoke English. He joined when he was 13 - he is now 30 - and he was taught by a monk who is now 90 and had been at the pagoda for 50 years. The Pagoda wasn't really open so we missed a clear sight of the array of large bronze Buddhas behind slatted doors.
Suddenly a group of girls arrive, shattering our belief that the most beautiful women in Vietnam come from Hanoi, but we are surprised to discover that they are Hanoi girls, University students wearing beautiful Ao Dais. They were beautiful and, to say the least, distracting. The novices were also interesting with their shaved heads, but with a long strand of hair at the front tucked behind their ears. We also met a surgeon from Danang whose English, again, was pretty good, and David met an overseas Vietnamese who is a linguistics teacher at Tokyo University. We are dying of heat and dehydration. Our wierdo friend tried to chat up a European girl at the Pagoda, and she reported him - he tried to persuade me to let her onto our boat back, but it was clear he was making a pass, so I said "no". Anyway, he was detained and we didn't encounter him again.
We asked to be dropped off by the bridge and we walked back through the old French Quarter which was not only pretty boring, but also hot. The Hue climate is conducive to sweating. One of the best kept French colonial buildings we have seen in Vietnam turned out to be the police headquarters, and naturally, we couldn't shoot it. As we returned to our hotel, we bought some Coke from a hunchbacked Vietnamese dwarf. David and I spent 100,000d each on antiques at the gift shop, mine an incense burner, David's a coal-fired iron 100 years old. Thuan tells us his favourite beer is 333 - ours is "cold".
After a lunch of pork, fried noodles and beer, we hired cyclos to go to the citadel, but within metres of our hotel I spotted a group of young people in a park with rifles. They were doing their obligatory 15 days a year military training. We settled in for some filming, but because a lot of the students had some English, we ended up talking to them. I was surrounded by young girls, one 21 year old, absolutely delightful, doing the talking. I was enchanted. They asked what I was doing, where I was going, if i was married (I said "No, I'm looking for a Vietnamese girl"), how old I was (they didn't believe I was 41). One girl called out "I love you", then bolted with embarassment. The girl I was talking to said I was handsome - these are the moments you live for. I will remember forever squatting down in a park by the Perfumed River, surrounded by beautiful girls.
Rifle kids: Trinh Van Tung, Lop Phap 4 - Khoa Phap, Dai Hoc Su Pham, Hue.
On to the citadel where the Tet Offensive raged some 23 years ago, wreaking no small havoc on this historic place. Though the United Nations is assisting in its repair, there is still a lot of visible damage from bullets and shells. Here I met an American architecture student on a one year study grant of "urbanisation in South East Asia". On our return, we stopped at a "floating restaurant" for a few drinks (we taught them the bucket routine - beer in the ice, not ice in the beer) and spring rolls as we watched the darkness descend upon Hue. Here another wierd conjunction occured - we actually heard ?Lara?s Theme" from Dr Zhivago, and the theme from ?The Good The Bad And The Ugly" sung in Vietnamese. We walked back to the hotel, no street lights, "another adventure" as Thuan would say.
Dinner was again on the balcony of the Huong Giang - and I had the meal of the same name, a kind of fried rice with chicken. Thuan had fried shrimp and David had the same noodle meal from lunch. Plus, we got plastered. A good time. David told me I talk too much when I get drunk. I don't think I talk enough when I'm sober. Oh well. Thuan told us about his family and house in Hanoi where they grow herbs and vegetables. Interesting that the tiny Vietnamese apples grow only in the North. Geckos in the room near the lights - reminds us of Cambodia.
FRIDAY 1 MARCH: DAY 19
"Thuan, what kind of soup is this?" Bill
"It's a very good soup." Thuan
This is the 15th day of Tet - Ram Thang Gieng - the most important day of the Buddhist year. Danang is the destination today. Thuan has arranged a clapped out car for this leg of the trip, so that we can see the impressive Hai Van Pass where the train goes through tunnels. First, we tie up a few loose ends in Hue. At breakfast we listen to fragments of Radio Australia and Voice of America played loudly for us by the restaurant staff. We also meet two Australians from the Northern Territory. They are tourists, and although not veterans, they've been obsessed with Vietnam for years - a product of their generation, they said. The car took us through a residential quarter, then on to Ho Chi Minh's old school which he attended in 1908 (Giap and Diem also were students here), and back to the citadel for a few more shots.
Thuan thought we should visit at least one of the tombs of Vietnam's emperors, Khai Dinh. He ruled for nine years at the turn of the century and was father to Bao Dai. His mausoleum took 11 years to construct. It's an imposing concrete structure of moulded carvings and statuettes, but the interior is more interesting with paintings and patterns made out of smashed porcelain and glass bottles gathered from all over the empire (I found a few bits of a sake bottle with the word "Tokyo" still visible) intricately assembled into pictures. Then on to Danang, picturesque trip but relatively uneventful. The Hai Van Pass wasn't really all that spectacular, especially if you'd done the Dien Bien Phu road. The views were generally obscured by mist although on a couple of occasions, there were great scenes of sandy beaches. At the top of the pass, there is a complex of forts, beginning with an ancient Cham one, and added on are French and Japanese bunkers. By the roadside we came across some artillery shells, just lying there rusting away. David video?d me bouncing one large shell in my hands! Then as we descended toward Danang, we caught sight of the radar domes on Son Tra which provided the American aircraft with directions en route to bomb our beloved north. Danang is a fairly grubby city with packed streets and lots of beggars; apparently the unemployment rate is fairly high here.
First stop was the hotel, The Sports Hotel, which appears designed to cater for tourists even though it's in a totally nondescript area. When the receptionist found out that we were from Australia, she told us that she had two brothers in Sydney. We had a late lunch of stir fried kidneys and vegetables, squid and pork soup, venison with sesame seeds, spring rolls and rice. But the nice surprise was finding 500ml cans of Sapporo beer for only 5,800d each (A$1). After lunch we set off to the Cham Museum where there are exhibits dating from the 4th to the 14th centuries. It was pretty depressing because much of the statuary was damaged in some way, but I had a good time with a group of students who thought I was Russian and tried to practise on me.
We had a confusing time trying to find the old American CORDS HQ which was supposed to be a War Crimes Museum now. Neither the street nor the museum currently existed, so we were doubtful when a building was pointed out to us. The other location we went for was Cafe Select which still had the grenade screens from when it was an American hangout. The name has changed. Then to the railway station Ga Danang where Thuan informed us that we couldn't get tickets to Nha Trung. Uh oh. While there we met a guy who repaired helicopters for the Americans at the airbase back when. He just approached our car and started talking to us. Last stop was a Cao Dai Temple where we were lucky enough to arrive while a service was in progress. I couldn't really take photos, although David got some video, but the service was very interesting for its ritualistic content - plus the mix of religious flavours: Buddhist style chanting, Christian style hand-across-body gestures, Buddhist flags, etcetera. The front of the service was dominated by a huge sphere with a radiating eye on it. Fascinating.
The food in this place is pretty damn good; dinner tonight was spicy beef in black bean sauce, spring rolls (different from the ones at lunch which were long and cut diagonally) shrimp and vegetable soup with rice. Thuan is strange - he asked us what we wanted to eat, but he had already ordered the food. (Sometimes in the car Thuan will point out something of interest, but the explanation is gibberish. David and I just look at each other).
Later in the evening, David and I went for a walk along a couple of Danang streets, careful to avoid the holes in the pavement through which could be seen evil-looking drains with black water. It was quite fun, although the kids here seem more agressively cheerful. Best line of the night came from three girls in a shop crammed with watches and clocks: "what time is it?" they asked.
SATURDAY 2 MARCH: DAY 20
Our plan to drive to China Beach, Marble Mountain and Hoi An went astray as our driver had to return to Hue because his company had found higher paying guests! Thuan had some business to do so we ended up basically sitting around until we decided to roam off. Our first stop was a construction site where cement was being shovelled up level by level to a third floor, and where many of the manual workers were women. We met a persistently cheerful cyclist who followed us for a few streets. We couldn't be rude about this, but he was distracting. We walked through the main market building which was typically cramped with stalls along narrow alleyways. Across the road at a stall where David got his memento - an original M16 ammunition knapsack - we met a delightful little schoolgirl whose English was pretty damn good. She told us she was home from school for lunch, how her mother taught her English and so forth. Further down the road we came across a stall selling bogus Coca Cola in a brown bottle much like beer bottles. It was made locally as it bore the word Danang in tiny script. Naturally we were subjected to the usual cries of "Lien Xo", but surprisingly we were picked twice as Australians and once as Americans. Lunch was pork and noodles, beef and noodles, octopus and noodles - and Sapporo.
After lunch Thuan joined us and we went back to the Cao Dai temple. I met an old man there who showed me an English explanation of the church. The huge sphere with the eye on it was the Universal Globe with the Eye of God (Thien Nhan), the symbol of absolute truth, luminosity and everlasting existence. The religion blends elements of Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, Lao Tsu and Confucianism. Whew. We then entered a printing shop which although very friendly was fairly ordinary, although here was one of the places where the ever-present lottery tickets are printed. We ended up at the Buu Dien down at the waterfront to post some cards. While there, David sat down with a group of teenage girls studying English, who were great fun. He told me he was also told "I love you" by one of the girls. As we walked back to the hotel, I unsuccessfully tried to set up a shot of schoolgirls on bicycles wearing white Ao Dais. Oh well.
Dinner tonight was probably our worst in this hotel (not to say it was bad - just not up to the amazing quality to date): pork and fried noodles, chateaubriand and chips, chicken and fried rice. I tried for frogs legs but none were available. Tonight we decided to drop in on the teacher David met at the Cao Dai temple to give him some English language magazines. (Tran Quoc Cong, 34/7 Hai Phong; wife Huong and daughter Nguyen, 4 on 23 April). We went to the address he gave David, and were invited in, with all the neighbours watching at the door, while we tried to find out where he was. The family spoke only a little French. After leaving a message and setting off back to our hotel we did meet him on the road and he explained that the address he gave David was for his brother's home. He was somewhast agitated to know that we'd been visiting - he was paranoid about being reported to the police for meeting foreigners - the implication being that he was planning to leave the country. He views his situation as stemming from his being a Northern Catholic whose family fled in 1954 when he was not yet one year old, and prior to 1975, he was taught by Americans. He did not end up in a re-education camp but he said that his past stops him getting a good job. As a government English teacher, he earns 40,000d a month (we spent half that on three cans of Heineken to drink with him). Finally we settled into a pokey sidewalk cafe. While there, he viewed with suspicion a man who sat behind us and was startled when a car suddenly pulled up on the other side of the street. His wife, whom we met briefly, works as an administrator in a hospital. He told us four letters held sent to America, and letters and parcels sent to him had gone astray. His favourite book, he said, was Erich Fromm's "Art Of Loving" and he wanted more books but took pains to point out that we should mail such things to a foreign resident here who could pass it on through the internal mail. Also any books we send should have no pictures as there is a greater liklihood of them getting "lost" en route to him.
The suggestion was that Danang, as a Southern city, was considered less politically reliable than Hanoi and more provincial than Ho Chi Minh City - hence his position is riskier living here. We left him about 10pm. I'm still not certain how to treat much of what he told us, but it's one of the more disturbing events of this tour.
A Culinary Tour Of Vietnam (Day 11-15)
THURSDAY 21 FEBRUARY: DAY 11
"There are only three types of Black Tai women:
the children are angels,
the teenage girls are goddesses
and the women are mothers-of-the-earth."
David
Our one late day so far, setting off at 9am, after Pho Ga at the hotel (terrible - both food and hotel). The French brothers tell us of a friend, Colonel Alairre, who is the military advisor to a film directed by Pierre Schoendoerfer near Hoa Binh at Xuan Mai. The film shoots until June 15 and is about the seige of Dien Bien Phu. Pierre as a young man was the photographer captured in a photo at the Dien Bien Phu Museum. First step was back to the museum to see if we could obtain a souvenir badge. The captain gave us two - he said they were the last two - combatant commorative badges, in exchange for a roll of film. They would use the film to photograph visitors for display. Before we left, David and I signed the official guest book beneath the statue of Ho at the entrance. In the guest book, we note that four Australians visited in April 1990, a Graham Crewes in September 1990 and a B. Larkin.
The drive back to Son La, even though we'd done it before, was pretty damn good. First, we pulled up by a whole group of people working in the rice paddies and they seemed absolutely thrilled. We got some great shots of some great reactions. The Black Tai children - in their costumes - were adorable. Next we stopped at a Black Tai village where some girls were throwing this toy. It's aimed at bringing boys and girls together and is a kind of build-up to friendship. Some girls were banging a drum, so we got that as well. (David: what Bill leaves out is how unutterably beautiful the Black Tai women and girls were at this stop, and how we'll always remember their curious gazes and shy giggling). What is very strange are the color groupings: you'll go past one native group in red tops, or blue, or green but they don't seem to be categorised by village or family, because with, say, ten girls in red, you'll see one or two in blue. The driver (Tran Minh) Hong (Tran Minh Hong, 10 Le Phung Hieu Street, Hanoi. Ph: 55758) needed to change a tyre, right where this huge road construction was going on, so David and I walked ahead down this road, stopping at one point to warm our hands at a small fire built by some local girls.
We got back to Son La about 2.30pm and went off to check out Son La prison. It's now a museum, but it was originally used by the French to hold political prisoners, including Le Duan and Le Duc Tho. It was built in 1908, and included secret cells underground. It was bombed by the French in 1953 after it was taken back by the Viet Minh, and again by the Americans in 1965, so most of it is rubble. David found it reminiscent of Tuol Sleng with its austerity, metal braces set in concrete and the torture cells. We never knew this, but Thuan tells us that SAMS were installed as far west as Moc Chau, half way to Son La, to defend Hanoi against the American bombers coming in from Thailand. The prison guide who showed us around, a very attractive woman amongst attractive women, took us down to a monument to a hero of the prison, then invited us to her coffee house, where she gave us some home made spirits, and of course, tea. David shot some polaroids - one of herself, son and daughter, with our driver, as three is an unlucky number in a photograph.
Dinner at the guest house was a riot. First we ate everything on the table with great relish, having starved at Dien Bien Phu. Perhaps the best meal we ate in Vietnam. The waitress, Ca Thi Hien, says to Thuan that she wishes she could speak English so that she could speak to David. Later, through Thuan, she asks David about his impressions of Son La. He says "the women are more beautiful than the mountains". David's polaroid camera is a real party-starter - our waitress rushed off to put on a traditional dress. David supplied the headgear she'd forgot.
By the time the evening was over, four or five women had got involved in the pictures amid lots of giggling. Hien thanks me with a handshake and David asks Thuan to translate that he will say goodnight in the Australian way, and hugs her to peals of laughter by her friends. A fun way to end the day. Feature: Hien stood on a stool to get up to our height for the photos.
FRIDAY 22 FEBRUARY: DAY 12
"Driving to Dien Bien Phu and back is like
spending four days in an earthquake, sitting down,
watching the landscape move around you"
David
Today, we return to Hanoi, up at 5.30 and it's miserably cold. Breakfast is our usual Pho Bo (though this time it's liver, not beef) at the museum guide's tea house. Her name is Cao Thi Dung (pronounced Cow Tea Zung). David gave her some Channel 7 balloons, and I gave her daughter a government biro. The day's trip turned out to be uneventful, because not only was it cold, it was either rainy, misty or smoky - more fires. Just after Hoa Binh, we detoured to Xuan Mai. The brothers Vilbert had told us of the epic French movie about Dien Bien Phu being planned here. And honestly, it was awesome. The were myriad trench lines scoured into the hills overlooking the mock airstrip, on which there were two vintage prop fighters and two DC3s. We were there without permission, so when a guard showed up, we bluffed that we did have permission and then shot through, so we didn't get to see the mock-up of De Castries' bunker. But we did note that they only had three tanks (which fits) instead of the four at Dien Bien Phu. On the way back we looked over some old French bunkers and as usual got surrounded by hundreds of people. Then it was back to the Army Guest House, via a mind-boggling drive through Hanoi traffic in late afternoon. The four day excursion cost US$616.
At 7pm we decided to go souvenir hunting, first catching up with Tru who delivers the New Year banner David had ordered in Flag Street, then Mai (because Tru went and got him) at the Danchu Hotel, also Bang, Kiet and Viep all five of the cyclos we have known and we talk about our trip to DBP. In a great gesture, Mai bought Evan his waterpipe and tobacco as a present, and also bought us one each. We then bought some Wan Li beer, David bought a silver bracelet for Anna and an anecdotal book about Ho, went back to the guest house for dinner (spring rolls and beef dishes), wrote up some more postcards, and that was it for the day. We have been to Dien Bien Phu. Will we ever meet a Westerner who will be able to say such a thing?
SATURDAY 23 FEBRUARY: DAY 13
"Every food has a story to tell"
Mr Quang
We pottered around Hanoi today, starting with the Army Museum. It's changed quite a bit since last time, in that the exhibits had been re-arranged, the work on restoring the watch-tower was finished and the Gulf Of Tonkin torpedo tubes were nowhere to be seen. All of this, we were told, was because there was now a civilian in charge. The biggest change, however, was a huge roomsized mock-up of the Dien Bien Phu battle. From there, we cyclo'd clear across town to the Air Force Museum, which was shut, but we were able to look at the exhibits outside, like the Russian MIGs and helicopters. After chasing around, we went to a "newsagent" only to find it closed - they opened it specially for us. After some deliberation, it turned out that we could get Thailand's Nation newspaper for the last three days as well as current editions (from upstairs, down the back) of Time and Newsweek.
We also tried to get some more polaroid film at some new processing places, and were unable to, but we did manage to post off our cards, which turned out to be more expensive than buying them. We decided to skip lunch because we wanted to catch up with Thuan at the History Museum. He was there when we arrived, and while we were in the gift shop, Tru and Mai surprised us with a lunch of sausage, ham and bread rolls. So we asked Tru to go buy a bottle of Wan Li. The History Museum was a little dull, mostly because there were no English signs. But what was strange was this furtive character who told us that he was the Museum Director. He surreptitiously dragged us from exhibit to exhibit telling us what was original, then asked us for money! We then tried to go to the revolutionary Museum, but it was closed, so it was back to the guest house for some Wan Li beer (it is getting cheaper all the time: 3700d to 3500d to 3250d).
As we arrived back, the mad girl from the rooftop was now lying on the road in front of the army base trying to block traffic. Surprisingly, nobody did anything about her, just drove around her, or stood and watched. However, we stood and watched.
Tonight was yet another of those surprises that happen to us. Thuan informed us that we would be having dinner with Mr Quang, the director of the Foreign Press Centre. We knew from last year that it would be fun, but we didn't know how much. We ended up at the same restaurant as last year and we got there early to film in the kitchen which was interesting in itself, because they had a charcoal stove pushed along with an electric fan. Watching the chef chop pork was entertaining because he did it musically. Mr Quang arrived and we moved upstairs, whereupon he opened a bottle of Russian champagne - very sweet, almost a spumante. We then drank Heineken.
First, the meal: eel soup (with corn and mushroom), shredded chicken with pickled or cooked cucumber, bean sprouts and banana bulb (which actually has heat like chili), grilled prawns, baked freshwater fish, spring rolls, steamboat with pig skin, kidney and fried rice noodles, also watermelon and coffee. Quang was simply amazing. Among other things he spoke English. We knew he understood it, but was reluctant to use it because he didn't think that he was good enough. He told us Vietnamese stories about how the prawn came to get its shape, about how Viet men build strength for their wives, about how in Vietnam you eat that part of the fish that is good for that part of the body, how Southern food is different to the North (babana fish is Ca Chuoy in the north, Ca Loc in the south) and so on. He also presented us with these amazing (kitschy) lion statues, but stunning because they are made of coal from Vietnam's biggest mining area.
The big surprise of the evening was the invitation back to his home - just a short walk down the street and up a flight of stairs. For a high-ranking official, the place is austere but still he can afford a full sound system with flashing lights (which he demonstrated by playing UB40!). He also had European calendar girls on the wall along with a picture of Che. More interestingly, he not only had autographed copies of books by Tim Page (a great photographic record called "Ten Years After) and by Neil Sheehan ("A Bright Shining Lie") but he also had the two volume translation of Sheehan's book in Vietnamese.
Drinks started with a "medicine" like we'd had at Son La, and Quang presented us with a carton of leaves, roots, and herbs to make up our own with rice vodka. We then moved on to Johnnie Walker Black Label. Meanwhile the discussion turned to his involvement with the American War, his separation from his family, how he came to marry a girl thirteen years younger (and she's beautiful - we saw the photos), and his battle with his mother-in-law to-be. He told us of meeting Jane Fonda, Tom Hayden, and Castro; how his younger brother was wounded nine times, of battles in the tunnels of Cu Chi, of not seeing his sister for over a decade, and of having to leave his southern town in 1954 because of the Geneva Agreement. (His province is Vietnam's southernmost - Minh Hai). Quang told a story of how Jane Fonda forgot the Vietnamese she had tried to memorise. At a gathering, instead of saying "Nothing is more important than independence", she said ?Nothing...". Quang got married, he said, because he played flamenco guitar (taught by the French) and so attracted his wife, a dancer. David said "so that's why you hate the French!" He spent 20 years in the south and 35 years in Hanoi. His wife is a northerner.
He told us of the essential differences between the north and south: the Southerners are more liberal, the Northerners are more principled; the Southerners are more advantaged economically; the North is more industrialised than the South; the Southerners are careless about money, the Northerners are more careful, keeping some money aside; the South has no storms or typhoons; but North and South love guests very much (in the South, he said, people burn furniture to heat food for a guest).
And all this time, hours passing, he just laughed and laughed - a great man. I told him of the privilege of meeting him. I meant it. Fond hugs sealed a perfect night.
When we got back to the guest house, we met a Canadian who told us that there's just been a coup in Thailand and street fighting in Albania.
SUNDAY 24 FEBRUARY: DAY 14
Today, departure at 8am via Haiphong, to Ha Long Bay. Neither was all that exciting to be honest. The trip from Hanoi was through the flatlands of the Red River Valley which had been turned over to, you guessed it, rice. What was interesting however was how the regular blocks of paddies would be occasionally interspersed with ragged circles, often turned into ponds - bomb craters. French bunkers, old grey concrete, were scattered menancingly through the landscape. Haiphong, though brighter because the sun was out today, didn't have the color of Hanoi. Being a seaport, it's heavily industrialized with plenty of rusting hulks around. However, the central area around the market where we stopped for photos seemed cleaner than Hanoi. The French buildings were in very good repair. At the markets, streetside stalls sold dolls with western faces, and small wind-up M72 and M54 plastic tanks. To get to Ha Long required three ferry crossings, which were quite fun; as usual the people were pretty damn friendly. Apart from there being a lot more old French forts this way, the other obvious difference was the extent of vegetable farming. We stopped for lunch half way where we discovered another Chinese beer - Quan Li, and had a kind of stir-fried lean pork.
The main centre of Ha Long Bay is a grimy place called Hongai, a coal-mining town, with the evidence of coal dust everywhere. Ha Long itself is appalling - the worst of Vietnamese poverty combined with coal dust, alongside one of the great natural wonders of the world. Quang's statues for us were made from coal from this area. Ha Long Bay itself seems pretty spectacular, with huge interestingly shaped rocks jutting out of the sea. We dealt with a local official, Vu Viet Binh, the secretary of the external section of the office of Quang Ninh. He wasn't much use to us getting good views of the Bay, but he did get us out to a decrepit freighter in the harbour from which to take photographs. Tomorrow, we're looking to hire a boat to check out the islands, but funds may restrict our time on the bay - plus we have to get back to Hanoi by 6pm at the latest for Angela's phone call to David.
Our hotel, the Bach Dang, is classy by Viet standards as David says, it's got indirect lighting - except for the bare bulb in the bathroom. The toilet paper is the same green ?crap? we used in Phnom Penh. Thuan informs us that the ground war with Iraq has begun and he gave us a faltering translation of the TV news at dinner, which included mushroom growing, industrial re-organisation, gangsters' weapons confiscated, a murder investigation, and Swedish hospital care for Hanoi children. Thuan also told us that "bandits" attack on the road to Dien Bien Phu early morning or early evening in wet weather. Dinner was OK, stir fried pork, grilled fish, sauteed cabbage and what looked like spinach soup, plus white rice.
Feature: we ran into the French guys again at the Hongai Ferry.
MONDAY 25 FEBRUARY: DAY 15
The Ha Long bay excursion was actually a bit of a disappointment. It was not only smoky, but overcast, then rainy. The day started with a Pho (pork I think) and we boarded, considering the bay, a huge boat. The advice about not taking a small boat was wrong as the water was quite still. The Bay was stunning, but would have been so much better if the light was better. Added to this was the fact that we had speecifically stated that our total price was $50 and we only wanted one hour at sea. So half an hour later, having shot everything in sight, we asked them to turn around, but they said it was OK, just a little way to go. Of course, the overall trip turned into two hours. This large boat, normally $50 an hour, reduced for us to $35 an hour, then came to $70. I said, sorry I we only have $50, and that was it, pointing out that I'd told Thuan the night before, plus we'd asked him to turn back after a half-hour. We got it for $50. (David: Bill got it for $50 because he turned into Marble Mountain when the haggling began).
Starting at 11.30am, the drive back was pretty uneventful, except for lunch on the outskirts of Haiphong. The 60 year old owner was a real character, showing us his wounds while serving as a volunteer sapper during the American War. His wife was also a veteran. We ended up sharing his home-made rice wine and taking photos of the family. This was yet another of those unforseen incidents that happened daily and made our odyssey into Vietnam especially memorable - and almost always because of the generosity of the "ordinary" people we meet.
Back at the guest house, reception has turned into a pub full of journalists, (among them David Schweisberg, Beijing bureau chief for UPI) and we had a great yak about experiences, confirming once again that because of past and present experiences, we are "old hands". It appears that, to much envy, we are the only Westerners to have actually got onto the set of the Dien Bien Phu movie. We also said good-bye to Huong our driver, who was great. He's got a good sense of humour and he's been fun to have around. At 6pm David gets his phone call from Angie in Brisbane - an hour long discussion about the new year's ratings. Good news for David. Then immediately a phone call from Anna and a farewell until Ho Chi Minh City. So tonight, on our last night in Hanoi, our cyclo drivers take us off to Cha Ca La Vong. Here we had the standard fish marinated and fried at an upstairs table with shallots, peanuts, noodles, mint and parsley, vinegar dressing and fish sauce. Not to mention Heineken and 333. Then finally, once more past the Lake of the Restored Sword, and a brief stop to take in the atmosphere of this magic city on a late February evening, and back to the guest house for scotch and coke, video replays of the days past, and Madonna.
"There are only three types of Black Tai women:
the children are angels,
the teenage girls are goddesses
and the women are mothers-of-the-earth."
David
Our one late day so far, setting off at 9am, after Pho Ga at the hotel (terrible - both food and hotel). The French brothers tell us of a friend, Colonel Alairre, who is the military advisor to a film directed by Pierre Schoendoerfer near Hoa Binh at Xuan Mai. The film shoots until June 15 and is about the seige of Dien Bien Phu. Pierre as a young man was the photographer captured in a photo at the Dien Bien Phu Museum. First step was back to the museum to see if we could obtain a souvenir badge. The captain gave us two - he said they were the last two - combatant commorative badges, in exchange for a roll of film. They would use the film to photograph visitors for display. Before we left, David and I signed the official guest book beneath the statue of Ho at the entrance. In the guest book, we note that four Australians visited in April 1990, a Graham Crewes in September 1990 and a B. Larkin.
The drive back to Son La, even though we'd done it before, was pretty damn good. First, we pulled up by a whole group of people working in the rice paddies and they seemed absolutely thrilled. We got some great shots of some great reactions. The Black Tai children - in their costumes - were adorable. Next we stopped at a Black Tai village where some girls were throwing this toy. It's aimed at bringing boys and girls together and is a kind of build-up to friendship. Some girls were banging a drum, so we got that as well. (David: what Bill leaves out is how unutterably beautiful the Black Tai women and girls were at this stop, and how we'll always remember their curious gazes and shy giggling). What is very strange are the color groupings: you'll go past one native group in red tops, or blue, or green but they don't seem to be categorised by village or family, because with, say, ten girls in red, you'll see one or two in blue. The driver (Tran Minh) Hong (Tran Minh Hong, 10 Le Phung Hieu Street, Hanoi. Ph: 55758) needed to change a tyre, right where this huge road construction was going on, so David and I walked ahead down this road, stopping at one point to warm our hands at a small fire built by some local girls.
We got back to Son La about 2.30pm and went off to check out Son La prison. It's now a museum, but it was originally used by the French to hold political prisoners, including Le Duan and Le Duc Tho. It was built in 1908, and included secret cells underground. It was bombed by the French in 1953 after it was taken back by the Viet Minh, and again by the Americans in 1965, so most of it is rubble. David found it reminiscent of Tuol Sleng with its austerity, metal braces set in concrete and the torture cells. We never knew this, but Thuan tells us that SAMS were installed as far west as Moc Chau, half way to Son La, to defend Hanoi against the American bombers coming in from Thailand. The prison guide who showed us around, a very attractive woman amongst attractive women, took us down to a monument to a hero of the prison, then invited us to her coffee house, where she gave us some home made spirits, and of course, tea. David shot some polaroids - one of herself, son and daughter, with our driver, as three is an unlucky number in a photograph.
Dinner at the guest house was a riot. First we ate everything on the table with great relish, having starved at Dien Bien Phu. Perhaps the best meal we ate in Vietnam. The waitress, Ca Thi Hien, says to Thuan that she wishes she could speak English so that she could speak to David. Later, through Thuan, she asks David about his impressions of Son La. He says "the women are more beautiful than the mountains". David's polaroid camera is a real party-starter - our waitress rushed off to put on a traditional dress. David supplied the headgear she'd forgot.
By the time the evening was over, four or five women had got involved in the pictures amid lots of giggling. Hien thanks me with a handshake and David asks Thuan to translate that he will say goodnight in the Australian way, and hugs her to peals of laughter by her friends. A fun way to end the day. Feature: Hien stood on a stool to get up to our height for the photos.
FRIDAY 22 FEBRUARY: DAY 12
"Driving to Dien Bien Phu and back is like
spending four days in an earthquake, sitting down,
watching the landscape move around you"
David
Today, we return to Hanoi, up at 5.30 and it's miserably cold. Breakfast is our usual Pho Bo (though this time it's liver, not beef) at the museum guide's tea house. Her name is Cao Thi Dung (pronounced Cow Tea Zung). David gave her some Channel 7 balloons, and I gave her daughter a government biro. The day's trip turned out to be uneventful, because not only was it cold, it was either rainy, misty or smoky - more fires. Just after Hoa Binh, we detoured to Xuan Mai. The brothers Vilbert had told us of the epic French movie about Dien Bien Phu being planned here. And honestly, it was awesome. The were myriad trench lines scoured into the hills overlooking the mock airstrip, on which there were two vintage prop fighters and two DC3s. We were there without permission, so when a guard showed up, we bluffed that we did have permission and then shot through, so we didn't get to see the mock-up of De Castries' bunker. But we did note that they only had three tanks (which fits) instead of the four at Dien Bien Phu. On the way back we looked over some old French bunkers and as usual got surrounded by hundreds of people. Then it was back to the Army Guest House, via a mind-boggling drive through Hanoi traffic in late afternoon. The four day excursion cost US$616.
At 7pm we decided to go souvenir hunting, first catching up with Tru who delivers the New Year banner David had ordered in Flag Street, then Mai (because Tru went and got him) at the Danchu Hotel, also Bang, Kiet and Viep all five of the cyclos we have known and we talk about our trip to DBP. In a great gesture, Mai bought Evan his waterpipe and tobacco as a present, and also bought us one each. We then bought some Wan Li beer, David bought a silver bracelet for Anna and an anecdotal book about Ho, went back to the guest house for dinner (spring rolls and beef dishes), wrote up some more postcards, and that was it for the day. We have been to Dien Bien Phu. Will we ever meet a Westerner who will be able to say such a thing?
SATURDAY 23 FEBRUARY: DAY 13
"Every food has a story to tell"
Mr Quang
We pottered around Hanoi today, starting with the Army Museum. It's changed quite a bit since last time, in that the exhibits had been re-arranged, the work on restoring the watch-tower was finished and the Gulf Of Tonkin torpedo tubes were nowhere to be seen. All of this, we were told, was because there was now a civilian in charge. The biggest change, however, was a huge roomsized mock-up of the Dien Bien Phu battle. From there, we cyclo'd clear across town to the Air Force Museum, which was shut, but we were able to look at the exhibits outside, like the Russian MIGs and helicopters. After chasing around, we went to a "newsagent" only to find it closed - they opened it specially for us. After some deliberation, it turned out that we could get Thailand's Nation newspaper for the last three days as well as current editions (from upstairs, down the back) of Time and Newsweek.
We also tried to get some more polaroid film at some new processing places, and were unable to, but we did manage to post off our cards, which turned out to be more expensive than buying them. We decided to skip lunch because we wanted to catch up with Thuan at the History Museum. He was there when we arrived, and while we were in the gift shop, Tru and Mai surprised us with a lunch of sausage, ham and bread rolls. So we asked Tru to go buy a bottle of Wan Li. The History Museum was a little dull, mostly because there were no English signs. But what was strange was this furtive character who told us that he was the Museum Director. He surreptitiously dragged us from exhibit to exhibit telling us what was original, then asked us for money! We then tried to go to the revolutionary Museum, but it was closed, so it was back to the guest house for some Wan Li beer (it is getting cheaper all the time: 3700d to 3500d to 3250d).
As we arrived back, the mad girl from the rooftop was now lying on the road in front of the army base trying to block traffic. Surprisingly, nobody did anything about her, just drove around her, or stood and watched. However, we stood and watched.
Tonight was yet another of those surprises that happen to us. Thuan informed us that we would be having dinner with Mr Quang, the director of the Foreign Press Centre. We knew from last year that it would be fun, but we didn't know how much. We ended up at the same restaurant as last year and we got there early to film in the kitchen which was interesting in itself, because they had a charcoal stove pushed along with an electric fan. Watching the chef chop pork was entertaining because he did it musically. Mr Quang arrived and we moved upstairs, whereupon he opened a bottle of Russian champagne - very sweet, almost a spumante. We then drank Heineken.
First, the meal: eel soup (with corn and mushroom), shredded chicken with pickled or cooked cucumber, bean sprouts and banana bulb (which actually has heat like chili), grilled prawns, baked freshwater fish, spring rolls, steamboat with pig skin, kidney and fried rice noodles, also watermelon and coffee. Quang was simply amazing. Among other things he spoke English. We knew he understood it, but was reluctant to use it because he didn't think that he was good enough. He told us Vietnamese stories about how the prawn came to get its shape, about how Viet men build strength for their wives, about how in Vietnam you eat that part of the fish that is good for that part of the body, how Southern food is different to the North (babana fish is Ca Chuoy in the north, Ca Loc in the south) and so on. He also presented us with these amazing (kitschy) lion statues, but stunning because they are made of coal from Vietnam's biggest mining area.
The big surprise of the evening was the invitation back to his home - just a short walk down the street and up a flight of stairs. For a high-ranking official, the place is austere but still he can afford a full sound system with flashing lights (which he demonstrated by playing UB40!). He also had European calendar girls on the wall along with a picture of Che. More interestingly, he not only had autographed copies of books by Tim Page (a great photographic record called "Ten Years After) and by Neil Sheehan ("A Bright Shining Lie") but he also had the two volume translation of Sheehan's book in Vietnamese.
Drinks started with a "medicine" like we'd had at Son La, and Quang presented us with a carton of leaves, roots, and herbs to make up our own with rice vodka. We then moved on to Johnnie Walker Black Label. Meanwhile the discussion turned to his involvement with the American War, his separation from his family, how he came to marry a girl thirteen years younger (and she's beautiful - we saw the photos), and his battle with his mother-in-law to-be. He told us of meeting Jane Fonda, Tom Hayden, and Castro; how his younger brother was wounded nine times, of battles in the tunnels of Cu Chi, of not seeing his sister for over a decade, and of having to leave his southern town in 1954 because of the Geneva Agreement. (His province is Vietnam's southernmost - Minh Hai). Quang told a story of how Jane Fonda forgot the Vietnamese she had tried to memorise. At a gathering, instead of saying "Nothing is more important than independence", she said ?Nothing...". Quang got married, he said, because he played flamenco guitar (taught by the French) and so attracted his wife, a dancer. David said "so that's why you hate the French!" He spent 20 years in the south and 35 years in Hanoi. His wife is a northerner.
He told us of the essential differences between the north and south: the Southerners are more liberal, the Northerners are more principled; the Southerners are more advantaged economically; the North is more industrialised than the South; the Southerners are careless about money, the Northerners are more careful, keeping some money aside; the South has no storms or typhoons; but North and South love guests very much (in the South, he said, people burn furniture to heat food for a guest).
And all this time, hours passing, he just laughed and laughed - a great man. I told him of the privilege of meeting him. I meant it. Fond hugs sealed a perfect night.
When we got back to the guest house, we met a Canadian who told us that there's just been a coup in Thailand and street fighting in Albania.
SUNDAY 24 FEBRUARY: DAY 14
Today, departure at 8am via Haiphong, to Ha Long Bay. Neither was all that exciting to be honest. The trip from Hanoi was through the flatlands of the Red River Valley which had been turned over to, you guessed it, rice. What was interesting however was how the regular blocks of paddies would be occasionally interspersed with ragged circles, often turned into ponds - bomb craters. French bunkers, old grey concrete, were scattered menancingly through the landscape. Haiphong, though brighter because the sun was out today, didn't have the color of Hanoi. Being a seaport, it's heavily industrialized with plenty of rusting hulks around. However, the central area around the market where we stopped for photos seemed cleaner than Hanoi. The French buildings were in very good repair. At the markets, streetside stalls sold dolls with western faces, and small wind-up M72 and M54 plastic tanks. To get to Ha Long required three ferry crossings, which were quite fun; as usual the people were pretty damn friendly. Apart from there being a lot more old French forts this way, the other obvious difference was the extent of vegetable farming. We stopped for lunch half way where we discovered another Chinese beer - Quan Li, and had a kind of stir-fried lean pork.
The main centre of Ha Long Bay is a grimy place called Hongai, a coal-mining town, with the evidence of coal dust everywhere. Ha Long itself is appalling - the worst of Vietnamese poverty combined with coal dust, alongside one of the great natural wonders of the world. Quang's statues for us were made from coal from this area. Ha Long Bay itself seems pretty spectacular, with huge interestingly shaped rocks jutting out of the sea. We dealt with a local official, Vu Viet Binh, the secretary of the external section of the office of Quang Ninh. He wasn't much use to us getting good views of the Bay, but he did get us out to a decrepit freighter in the harbour from which to take photographs. Tomorrow, we're looking to hire a boat to check out the islands, but funds may restrict our time on the bay - plus we have to get back to Hanoi by 6pm at the latest for Angela's phone call to David.
Our hotel, the Bach Dang, is classy by Viet standards as David says, it's got indirect lighting - except for the bare bulb in the bathroom. The toilet paper is the same green ?crap? we used in Phnom Penh. Thuan informs us that the ground war with Iraq has begun and he gave us a faltering translation of the TV news at dinner, which included mushroom growing, industrial re-organisation, gangsters' weapons confiscated, a murder investigation, and Swedish hospital care for Hanoi children. Thuan also told us that "bandits" attack on the road to Dien Bien Phu early morning or early evening in wet weather. Dinner was OK, stir fried pork, grilled fish, sauteed cabbage and what looked like spinach soup, plus white rice.
Feature: we ran into the French guys again at the Hongai Ferry.
MONDAY 25 FEBRUARY: DAY 15
The Ha Long bay excursion was actually a bit of a disappointment. It was not only smoky, but overcast, then rainy. The day started with a Pho (pork I think) and we boarded, considering the bay, a huge boat. The advice about not taking a small boat was wrong as the water was quite still. The Bay was stunning, but would have been so much better if the light was better. Added to this was the fact that we had speecifically stated that our total price was $50 and we only wanted one hour at sea. So half an hour later, having shot everything in sight, we asked them to turn around, but they said it was OK, just a little way to go. Of course, the overall trip turned into two hours. This large boat, normally $50 an hour, reduced for us to $35 an hour, then came to $70. I said, sorry I we only have $50, and that was it, pointing out that I'd told Thuan the night before, plus we'd asked him to turn back after a half-hour. We got it for $50. (David: Bill got it for $50 because he turned into Marble Mountain when the haggling began).
Starting at 11.30am, the drive back was pretty uneventful, except for lunch on the outskirts of Haiphong. The 60 year old owner was a real character, showing us his wounds while serving as a volunteer sapper during the American War. His wife was also a veteran. We ended up sharing his home-made rice wine and taking photos of the family. This was yet another of those unforseen incidents that happened daily and made our odyssey into Vietnam especially memorable - and almost always because of the generosity of the "ordinary" people we meet.
Back at the guest house, reception has turned into a pub full of journalists, (among them David Schweisberg, Beijing bureau chief for UPI) and we had a great yak about experiences, confirming once again that because of past and present experiences, we are "old hands". It appears that, to much envy, we are the only Westerners to have actually got onto the set of the Dien Bien Phu movie. We also said good-bye to Huong our driver, who was great. He's got a good sense of humour and he's been fun to have around. At 6pm David gets his phone call from Angie in Brisbane - an hour long discussion about the new year's ratings. Good news for David. Then immediately a phone call from Anna and a farewell until Ho Chi Minh City. So tonight, on our last night in Hanoi, our cyclo drivers take us off to Cha Ca La Vong. Here we had the standard fish marinated and fried at an upstairs table with shallots, peanuts, noodles, mint and parsley, vinegar dressing and fish sauce. Not to mention Heineken and 333. Then finally, once more past the Lake of the Restored Sword, and a brief stop to take in the atmosphere of this magic city on a late February evening, and back to the guest house for scotch and coke, video replays of the days past, and Madonna.
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