Niall Clerkin

It was late afternoon when our bus started through the outlying suburbs of Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon) but immediately I knew I liked it. After the sedate low-rise nature of the most of Vietnam, here was a big southern statement, in glass, steel & neon shouting to its populace “You are not of a second city, Saigon still lives”. Am I being dramatic? Perhaps a little but only to illustrate a point. ..

Get your expensive designer goods here

Ho Chi Minh

Ho Chi Minh was the leader of the Communist North during the wars which led to the French withdrawal, and a figure head president during the American war until his death in 69. As history is written by the victors Uncle Ho, as he is referred to, is revered as a revolutionary hero and as a great leader. Of course he is responsible for sending a great deal of Vietnamese to their deaths, but that’s war, no? My point is this, Saigon, the capital of South Vietnam, was by all accounts a  vibrant and entrepreneurial city, got destroyed in the wars. Razed. After the wars it was slowly rebuilt with a new communist ethos, that didn’t quite suit the freewheeling southeners. When Saigon finally fell in 75 the City was renamed in his honour. Uncle Ho City would have sounded stupid so they used his full name and Ho Chi Minh City was born, not in the North where his standing greatest but in the south where the name didnt ring comfortable. Of course the locals still call it Saigon, and insisted on looking outward for investment, attracting multi-national HQs, international University campuses, rebuilding their city and truly putting its brother Hanoi in the shade. And well done say I, I was still on the bus into town and I was getting excited.

The Central Market, with clock, and a very busy roundabout

Off the bus close to the backpacker area, we tramped with our sacks across a nice grassy park, kids playing hacky-sack, oldies enjoying a stroll, and a backing track of beeping motos, if anything more ferocious than in Hanoi. As soon as we had found our way into the streets and alleys we were inundated with fellas trying to make a commission by directing us to any number of hotels with which they are not even affiliated. Sometimes there are just too many, and its better to pick one and let him lead, as he will prevent 20 more from annoying you. So we did and duly found ourselves following an articulate & eager 20 something through little alleys and lanes. Imagine you are in some lost city in Persia, chasing a tomb robber through dusty little overcrowded streets, left right right left, through here, under there left again, no no back up. Eventually you get the billowing sheets out of your eyes and look around. The suspect is gone, you are in a narrow little cul de sac, the locals have fled, and  a dodgy looking bloke in a dress is sharpening a sabre. If Indy doesn’t turn up now….  We didn’t stay there, not because of the man with the sabre but because we’d never find it again so we went looking for digs closer to a few landmarks and found something perfectly adequate (if up five flights) in the Thanh Guesthouse. $10US cramped but clean and easy to find.

Elaine was in Ho Chi Minh, and this is the proof

We didn’t venture too far that evening, knowing we had only 3 days to pack a big city into and would need our energy. A quick bite at Cafe 333 and then maybe 2 beers apiece at cafe 185, sitting outside on the street opposite Crazy Buffalo (a very popular tourist haunt).

The next day we set off with a map, a guide and a half idea of what we’d be at. The plan was a long walk through town, the  Independence Palace, the Notre Dame Cathedral, the old train station, lunch, idle tourism & the War Remnants Museum. Walking around HCMC is quite pleasurable, nice buildings, nice heat, some surprises, fairly easy to navigate and lots of space. A walking tour is the way to go, if your lungs can take the traffic that is !

Notre Dame but not the french one

The train station

The War Remnents Museum tells the story of the French trying to hold on to Indochina, getting propped up by the USA, failing and then getting replaced by the USA in what became the Vietnam War (as we know it). I wasn’t fully aware of the depths of French resposibility for this mess and it wasn’t just poor political brookerage, they took billions from the USA in aid & arms and oversaw much of the initial bombing campaigns in Vietnam.  Mais Non!!!!!!

U.S. fighter on display

After the French had capitulated and the Americans took over, well you know that story….. The Museum is devastating. Loving historical context I was reading everything I could and the first 3rd of the Museum took me over an hour, but in that hour gained an understanding of the chronology of the wars, the major accords reached, blatant flouting of international laws and the worlds toothless response. To say that US senators opposed to the actions of the US abroad were calling foul from 56 right through to 75 should give you an idea of how immune 3 successive US administrations were to opinion. And yes the great JFK led the first of these.

Audio Visual Room where some very sad tales unfold

Sections 3, 4 and 5  in the museum feature photographic accounts of the war, by international journalists who were killed in action, stories from civilians of survival and a photographic account of horrific injuries sustained (very hard to look at).  How can I say that an experience like this is rewarding when it leaves you in tears, sapped of energy but full of rage. But it is.

That evening we met an old pal from Monaghan, Kieran.  Living in HCMC for 6 years Kieran has a great job with the University here, and a good knowledge of all the best places to go (It’s great to know people). He first met up with us at our cheap traveler haunt and we had a quick debriefing on all things Dublin, Monaghan and the last 10 years, then he loaded us onto the back of 2 motos and we sped off through the evening traffic madness. The Acoustic Room is a tightly packed little venue with bar tables and chairs surrounding a small stage in an arc. At the end of an unassuming little lane-way, and obviously a haunt of local musos we would never have found this place. A tight 5 piece band, playing note perfect rock from the last 20 years, featuring 3 different vocalists who would materialize from the crowd, this was highly enjoyable. One singer in particular, a Vietnamese version of a grungy Irish college student, all leather bracelets and made to mess hair, was fantastic, with a vocal range to put most professionals to shame. He made Axl Rose’s screams in Sweet Child of Mine into sweet melody. … Nice. On to the next venue at close of business. After a quick enquiry from Kieran if we liked to dance, we were in the back of a cab with directions to Lush. By name & by nature, Lush was a packed rich kids playground, all glass & balconies, a strict door policy and high heels everywhere. Pricey drinks to be sure and way above our travelers budget (nothing you’d think twice about at home, but relatively speaking) but then Kieran never let us put our hands in our pockets all night. Not just a gent, but a generous gent. With work for the working man getting closer, Kieran shot off home in the wee hours and left us to boogie ’till about 3.  2 motos back to backpacker-ville and a nightcap featuring a game of pool and we were done. We didn’t set any alarms.

No Irish drizzle in these parts!

A day later we were on the bus northwest of HCMC heading for the Cu Chi tunnels. I paired this up with a visit to the Cao Dai Temple as they were about 45 minutes apart.  The temple sounded very interesting. The religion of Cao Dai is less than 100 years old, they have 4 million followers in Vietnam and incorporate many different Gods and saints in their beliefs. They worship a mix of Buddhism, Christianity &  Confucianism and include Jesus, Mohamed and  Louis Pasteur among their saints. They are famed for their very colourful temples and I thought it could be very interesting to attend a ceremony.

Me and a really big wedding cake

So unlike Christchurch

So the temple is colourful. So what? Tourists are allowed to observe the devotees in service and walk around the balcony areas. The worshipers will get epilepsy from all the flashes going off.  A waste of a morning other than the self-discovery that it is the history and theory that interest me rather than the walkabout a temple. It bored me plain and simple. I apologise to temple lovers everywhere but my advice is look at the pictures, read the theory but this is one wedding cake not worth eating.

After that we went to the Cu Chi Tunnels. Set in the jungle northwest of HCMC close to the Cambodian border, the tunnels are a network of rooms, living areas, workshops, meeting room and their connecting tunnels that extends for a mind bending 220km. The Vietnamese used the tunnels to perfect their guerrilla warfare strategy against the Americans.

A hidden entrance

We saw lots of traps  (like primitive bear traps with spikes), portions of tunnels, meeting rooms and some re-creations of typical scenes.

The kind of trap you don't want to fall into

There were AK-47s to fire (we both declined) and tunnels to scurry along inside.  Just before we reached the  firing range it had started to rain. Apocalypse Now kind of rain. Torrential.

Just the beginning of the rain

The jungle paths quickly turned from hard baked clay to shin deep rivers. The heavens had opened up and as our guide told us, it was great for authenticity. We hiked through it getting soaked despite our rain gear and were sopping wet by the time we got the the tunnel entrance.

Entrance to the land beneath

I was last to go in, delaying because I thought it would be too hot, and wet, and damp. But after the initial entrance had been left behind it was dry as a bone. I had a great time going deeper and deeper and further away from the rest of the tour group, pushing my day sack ahead of me and working my way through on hands & knees. Eventually there was just me & a German bloke, as everyone had taken the exits as we came to them, but I was determined to keep going inside the ground for far as was possible. I had all sorts of movies running through my head, nicely edited for action, as I scurried through the tiny tunnels, sometimes on my belly to get around corners or down to the next level.

The mole emerges

By the time we emerged everyone was gone back to the station, and their was just one guy there hoping he’d find us before shutting up shop. I highly recommend this.

Back at the main compound we were shown a “quaint” propaganda movie from 1968 where farmers were been encouraged to build these tunnels and the traps we had seen. “With a rifle in one hand and a plough in the other” it could have been De Valera talking.

Boom

We were very late back that evening and we had set a time to meet Kieran & his partner Hiromi in a Japanese restaurant by the name of Zen. Elaine was sick and cold, and damp and tired for that matter so I had to go on my own. Being a man is wonderful because 15 minutes after arriving back soaked through, I was showered, changed, looking presentable and on the back of a moto to take me across town. Zen turned out to be a big hit with fantastic sushi, miso soup, tempura and Shochu (a Japanese spirit that Kieran introduced me too). I had a wonderful evening with Kieran & Hiromi, and once again it was the expat who got the bill. The only way it could have been better was if Elaine could have made it, but you can’t have everything.

Ho Chi Minh City, I didn’t stay with you long enough, my visa was running out, but I think you could be great.

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Dalat is an odd place. 1500m above sea level in the central highlands of Vietnam, it purports to be the Honeymoon capital of the country. The guide books talk about the kitschness of the place, its disneyland-esque feel for the newly weds. The town is perched high above agricultural valleys on one side and mountain forest on the other, it features a central artificial lake, many cute cafes & restaurants and the most construction I have ever seen in a few square kilometers. Every street, footpath and grassy garden is receiving a facelift. The effort being entered into in order to make the town and environs feel polished and perfect is incredible. It may have been difficult to navigate as a result while we were there but in 2010 when the town celebrates 1000 years with an elaborate flower festival it will be a breeze.

One of the many parks in Dalat

The centre of Honeymoon-ville

Dalat is cold. Mild really, I suppose but cold when you have just travelled from the beaches of Nha Trang. The locals are proud of their mild climate, and their inland industry, and rightly so, it is so different from everywhere else on the trail through Vietnam.

Evening at the lake

Elaine after our long trek (!)

Sculpted trees and flower arrangements abound, cafes with heart shaped signs, peddle boat swans on the lake, the town is truly marketed at internal tourism. English menus were few and far between as its not a stop off for most travelers but that didn’t stop us sampling the delicious Vietnamese stew, the Dalat wine beef, and numerous fantastic vegetarian dishes. We walked the lake, stalked the wedding couples, enjoyed a few beers and climbed the steep hill back to our hotel for 2 nights.

Another view of Dalat Town

We’d have loved to have another day to hire a scooter and explore the vineyards and agriculture stepped into the steep mountains and experience a little more of these friendly mountain people who are so different from the people of the north, but our visas are running tight with only a week to go before we have to leave Vietnam so we bussed it on, impatiently to Mui Ne.

A 10km strip of beach, just 200km north of Ho Chi Minh City, Mui Ne is as chilled and relaxed as any little resort town you could ever hope to find. With grey skies overhead (that had followed us since Nha Trang) there is little to do at a quiet sea village famous for its strand, except eat, drink & be sociable. We teamed up with an Australian/Russian couple, Daniel & Julia, whom we had met on the bus. The site of a road accident had actually provided the meet-cute as Daniel had come to the rear of the bus to share our view of a blooded road and we had got talking about the possibilities of what had occurred.

Later that night we met them again as we left Mango restaurant (ridiculously delicious food at bargain prices) and were heading to the Russian Club “Snow”.  That may seem odd, but after a number of not so discreet enquiries I discovered that Russians were funneling  money into the beach resort at Mui Ne when the origins of this money may not be acceptable to the Russian tax-man. Anyway, in true Russian tradition (or not, how the hell would I know!) some utterly ridiculous version of a Wet T-shirt competition was coming to a close, where the contestants seemed not that wet and the mood oddly sedate (not like frat-boy movies you see on tv) so we turned around and headed to the very salubrious venue  of Sankara.

Julia, Daniel, Elaine & Niall

With 2 internal pools, deep cushioned booths, billowing canvas and a cocktail bar looking into the moonlit sea, it was a very nice spot indeed.  Our new buddies gave us a mental tour of Melbourne, where they live and we swapped the usual travel stories (heading in opposite directions as we were).

It suffices to say that Mui Ne is a lovely little relaxed place by the sea with a lot of russian signage. It was grey when we were there, so we didnt stay, but I would have, given half a chance of sunshine.

Photos will be added soon (slow internet connection).

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After Hoi An we took what was gratefully to be our last night bus, for a while at least, and headed for the beach resort of Nha Trang. This is Vietnams answer to the French Riviera, all new hotels, manicured lawns, expensive clubs and long shadeless miles of beach. There are a few cheap streets at the end of the strip, where all the backpackers hang out and it was here that we pitched up. A quick scout around and we were in an 8 dollar room, with cable TV, a fridge, air conditioning, wifi and a decent view of the alley beside us. It was comfortable & cheap, we didn’t need a view, the next few days were to be beach front lazy.

Nha Trang

First things first, I needed to find a bar that would be showing the Ireland V Australia game on TV. The Shamrock pub seemed to be the obvious choice, but the 2 Scots (whats that about?) in charge there were all about Celtic. They recommended a competing venue, Guava, that would have the game on the big screen. A quick confirmation up the road (and a few niggles with an Aussie who was doing the same thing) and I was comfortable with heading to the beach.

Nha Trang

It really does go for miles. It’s a long & deep natural cove facing a number of lush islands with beaches of their own. A deep blue and cloudless sky and some funky architecture to complete the illusion, You are not in Vietnam.

Nha Trang

A nights sleep, several hours of lazing around reading in the sun, 60 laps of the pool, an omelette, a rice soup, a Pho Bo, 2 cups of black VN coffee, 145 litres of water, 5 bottles of Saigon Red, a shower, shave and 1 Ireland Rugby Jersey later. Match Time I’d been looking forward to this for weeks.

Nha Trang

Clearly there is no point in my giving a match report here. It may suffice to say that a semi drunk aussie by the name of Glen was goading me about the Irish performance and after they went 13-6 ahead, I was told repeatedly (first by the commentator second by the Aussia, third by the Aussie and fourth by the Aussie) that if Ireland didn’t score next……TOMMY BOWE you are a legend, and he’s from my lil’ ole Monaghan. That shut them up. Thank you B’oD for going over late on, and Rocky I can’t bring myself to hate you, you’re still the king.

Legend

We went dancing with Mike from Limerick, Terry & Rene from Western Australia and a few more randomers, until 4am at Why Not? bar. It was a wild & crazy spot with good tunes and lots of rock &roll.  We raided the beer fridge back at hotel and landed ourselves on the beach to watch the sunrise. Good times.

I told you it was nice

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From Hue we took a daytime bus  (only 3 hours) to Hoi An. That is only 3 hours if you don’t have a 2.5 hour delay because the bus has a flat and nobody seems capable of changing it. A few of the travelers were chipping in, yours truly was not, I had a beer instead (well it is a holiday). Once we got moving I had to take a few snaps as it was the first distance daytime traveling we got to do and there was a lot to see. I took the following 3 photos over 3 hours  of travel, as the light faded to sunset.

1

2

3

The old town of Hoi An is a designated UNESCO world heritage site, on account of its 800+ original houses.

“Hoi An, historically known as a once prosperous seaport under the various names of Fayfo, Kaifo, Faifoo, Faixfo, Hoai Pho and Hoi An, is the only place in Vietnam to have many of its original streets and building preserved intact, which are typical of an old seaport town in South East Asia.

The town was a crossroad of economic-cultural flows in Vietnam and Southeast Asia from the end of the 16 ^th century to the early 19^th century. It was also the gate through which Buddism and Christianity were introduced into Vietnam in the 17^th century. In the process, Hoi An acquired unique cultural characteristics which are manifested in its customs until today.

Hoi An boasts 87 pagodas, temples and communal houses, 82 ancient tube-shaped houses, 24 ancient wells and an ancient tile-roofed bridge.”

More here

It is a famous town for tailoring, mostly set on the ground floors of these buildings. It goes Tailor Tailor Tailor Cafe Restaurant Tailor Shoe-Shop Tailor Tailor Tailor……ad infinitum. As I wasn’t in the mood for a new silk suit on the cheap (when would I get to wear such finery?) and Elaine was starting to feel poorly we skipped this particular treat.

The treats we didn’t skip were the fresh spring rolls, the cao lao…I’ll let Elaine tell you all;

[Elaine]

Cao Lao is a local specialty which we really like, a bit like a noodle salad I guess. It is usually in a bowl, with a specific type of noodles (they have so many types of noodles here!!!) in the bottom with a light sprinkling of a soy type sauce, then some lettuce & mint placed on one side, a quails egg (done like a hard boiled egg) & a slice of duck or pork that has been marinated forever & is so tender & tasty!! Topped with some crispy croutons probably made of rice.

Cao Lao

They also make nice fresh spring rolls, & some amazing dish we don’t know the name of that has rice flour mush, & prawn & spices steamed in a banana leaf – weird texture but tastes amazing. Another starter we liked is a crispy pancake, made with rice flour & shaped like a taco with a yummy filling, we think is based on egg & prawn but who knows!! And the crispy “won-tons” which are great. I don’t think much of won-tons at home but these are totally different, they are kind of like rice crackers meets tortilla chips, with a little parcel bit like a won-ton but covered in this yummy fresh salsa – they would make a great party food.

won-ton

[\Elaine]

One of the most entertaining dining experiences we have had was here in Hoi An in a communal eaterie. Basically a large tent/structure with about 12 chefs all cooking the same menu and depending on where you sit, the appropriate chef & staff get your business. It is real local food at rock bottom local prices. The food as Elaine describes above was truly excellent but in addition the service, one young girl in particular was so very funny.

Where you from?

Ireland, where are you from?

I from the Moon.

Really?

Yes I just here on a visit

But the moon? Why come here from the moon?

Sometimes I like to pretend I am just, you know odrinary person with job, talk to people, pretend to be from Vietnam……

And on and on and on… much fun.

Like almost all towns we have been to, it grew up as a little fishing port before developing its tailored tourism package and much of the evidence of this still exists, with a busy river, colourful boats and a VERY stinky fish market. On our first night we had tip toed through it in pitch black trying not to disturb the rats that were feasting around us. A moments thinking later and we changed tack, to make as much noise as possible so the rodent hoards would have fair warning of our approach, and not could not claim surprise as a defence in a court of law……

Aint it pretty?

At night Hoi An is other worldly. All the streets and shops light paper lanterns and a tanoi system place classical music through the streets. It is a very atmospheric little place then, some mist and jack the ripper and you’d have a great movie. People are strolling, sitting drinking it in, or chattering (but quietly, in reverence). It must be the perfect spot for the oldies.

Its getting dark

The Lamps are lighting up

Idyllic little tailors

The bad guy

However if you are not purusing tailors there is really not a lot for a person, 2 or 3 times around the town really is it done. It’s a pity because you really want to love the old world charm of the place and it’s delicious and unique flavours but… Always the but! Maybe it’s just too quiet for my wild at heart tastes.

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A lion of the Nguyen Dynasty

Some things just have to be put down as experience. Night buses can be such a thing. Night buses from Ninh Binh are such a thing. Most travellers get the bus from from Hanoi to Hue, and as such have a fighting chance of getting a decent seat-bed. As we got on in Ninh Binh we had last call, the worst beds, in the communal sauna at the back of the bus. I know kids you are all thinking that sounds very swedish and perhaps a little naughty, but when you are squeezed between the sweatiest Englishman in existence with a penchant for rolling over and spreading his limbs and some English lass with no concept of boundaries, on the rear axle of an absolute crap bucket of a bus, there is little appetite for naughtiness.  And no chance of sleep.

Girl on Bike

We put ourselves through this to get to Hue. Why? It is the former Imperial capital with Palaces, Temples and a Citadel (sacked in both wars), a place rich in history with an excellent culinery reputation, set on the banks of the Perfume river. Who wouldnt want to go? (and our guide book told us to go there).

The first thing in every new town (for myself & Elaine at least) is always Food. Our guidebook which is pretty poorly researched in my opinion, described a cafe with great cheap food and a serious line in photography. We got checked in and headed off to see Mr Cu.

 
This cafe is a wonderous experience, over 3 visits to it in the next few days we became family. The walls are decked out in Mr Cu’s photographs, all locally taken (he grew up un the Perfume River) and not without great skill. He has a knack for catching the light just right, the people unaware and the action just when he should. A quiet apologetic man, he is familiar with coo-ing tourists but still seems embarassed by his relative fame. On hearing about the photography bug in my family he immediately gave us free postcards & free prints (”For your father”), I bought some too of course. The food is fantastic and the best value we have had to date on our trip. Mr Cu has many hidden delights to share such as his own map & walking tour of the citadel. We elected to follow this route the next morning after great breakfast & great coffee. Have a sour vegetable soup for breakfast and you’ll never go kellogs again.

Niall & Mr Cu

The walking tour is a nice relaxed way to spend 4 or 5 hours. Myself, Elaine & Andy (whom we had met in Hanoi and bumped into again) set off about 10am with our cameras at the ready, cruelly inspired by portaits we would never be able to match. The route is around the Citadel, into the remains of the Imperial Palace, through the Markets and onto a section of the river where some river people still live.

Niall & Elaine inside the Imperial Palace

The Imperial Palace must once have been amazing, with multiple palaces for Mandarins and their families, the Royalty, and servants, within a large area enclosed by 3 metre thick walls. Beyond the walls the town within the Citadel, again walled and then surrounded by a 20 metre moate. The wars here did much damage to the Citadel and Palaces and 85% of it is razed. What is left is still very interesting, and I was happy to see there is lots of building work going on, with a full restoration the eventual aim. Beyond the Palaces the 3 of us walked around the old town and along the Perfume River and took a few snaps.

Houseboat

Perfume river life

We hired bicycles another day, to take us out of the city and free wheel it through the vietnamese countryside. Without any set destination and a minimal map, we figured if we kept turning left, we’d get back to Hue again. Early on it became apparent that my bicycle wasn’t up the job, the chain kept slipping and then started coming off. I deftly turned my bike upside down on the roadside and started freeing the chain. Just as I started to replace the chain on the rear cog I heard small voices and small hands started taking over. 3 or 4 girls, all under 10 I’d guess started pushing me away from the bike “No Mister, No Mister” and simply took over fixing my bike, which they acheived much quicker than I would have done. Then they hopped back on their own bikes and pedalled away. Madness.

Its Elaine on a bike

Anyway we cycled back and I traded up my bike and set off again. We travelled a good distance in the midday heat and enjoyed being out in the country immensely. We saw lots of little houses,  some larger more splendid specimens, old grave yards, forests and fields. How exciting. If we had have had lashings of ginger beer and a sheepdog it could have been an Enid Blyton.  On our return route, as recommended by a randomer on a moped who stopped to talk to us, we came across a smoking pagoda with the sounds of chanting floating out to us atop the smoke. In reality they were burning leaves but the effect was much more atmospheric than my photo suggests.

The smoking Pagoda

An elderly Monk outside motioned us to enter, but wearing shorts and sleevless t-shirts we didnt think we were appropriately dressed (not a chance in Thailand). The monk insisted and we entered the gardens. He continually motioned us up to the temple and staggering with his stick for balance, went looking for someone. A young smiling monk appeared, in white rather then the orange robes we were used to. He spoke a little English and insisted on taking us into the Temple. The clothes were ok, but no shoes as usual. Inside the temple there were 5 young inductees (from 4yrs through to 14yrs). They were chanting & singing and smiled shyly at us. Each knew there part in the complicated chant, a little like a “round” if anyone remembers childhood singing games. It was beautiful and serene. 

I sneaked this pic

Outside the young monk was waiting for us with 3 bananas. 1 apiece. I guess we broke bread together, it was a lovely experience.

Further on, and closer to town I took lots of random photos as I was freewheeling down streets with scooters and bikes ahead of me, thinking they might give a feel for the place, but they didnt work out at all. Sorry folks. When we reached town, Elaine who was slightly behind me blurts out ” Holy Catholic Church” and sure enough there was a monster of church on thew hill (aern’t they always) dominating this part of Hue. Of course she wasn’t showing a heretofore unseen religous side she was just saying “Holy Cow!!!!”.

Inside the Behemoth

It was actually quite nice inside, not like any church I’ve been in and of course a great contrast to the the little Pagoda. That evening we broke from Tradition and ate at “Ushi’s”. Thank you Ushi. Another brilliant restaurant with shrimp & pork with flour steamed in banana leaves, rice pancakes, steaming brothy soups. Everyone in Ushi’s was raving about the great food and as a result everyone was smiling. A great atmosphere.

A bike shop in Hue

We met lots of good people in Hue and every experience was a good one. Great food, pleasant company and an interesting backdrop. It’d have been nice to stay longer.

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Yes that is Dog

Think of those wide dusty deserted streets that Sergi Leone loved so much, it’s high noon, a lone gunman walks through the streets, the people stare and shuffle away or close their shutters. That gunman is me. The town is Ninh Binh. I’m just looking for a saloon to drink whiskey maybe play me a few hands of poker but all I get is closed doors and averted gazes. I catch a few children stealing a peak, but they are quickly hustled away.  It’s a good thing I’m not American, someone might challenge me to a duel.

 First impressions can be wrong, or at least a little weighted in one direction or another, but this one was bang on. Ninh Binh is a dusty little once was town, with fading commie glories and sad aging hotels and locals who have no interest in, or want for tourists. What once fed the township here I dont know but it is clear from the edifices that the town did aspire to something, perhaps a weekend jaunt from Hanoi for the Party elite in the Ho Chi Minh era, but all that’s left now are the remnants of money and me walking at high noon.

Amusing once perhaps

Neglected

Ox & Cart

There are a few here and there who will proffer a smile, and Luc who fed us vietnamese moonshine (Happy Water) but essentially the town is solely a place to go, to go somewhere else. Truth be told the train does still stop in Ninh Binh, but no one gets off,  they only get on. We actually used our little hotel as an R&R stop, to get a little extra sleep.

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Elaine makes a few extra quid

So the title may be a bit unfair but I had to work bloody hard to disprove it. After our relaxed time on Koh Tao it could have come as a shock to go straight to Hanoi, but we had 4 days in Bangkok as a buffer, and BK is not a very quiet place. Still it was a big surprise to discover that Hanoi is suffering the after effects of a bomb. A big devastating scooter bomb. 3 million scooters flew out of this agent of destruction (they’re not orange though) and wreak continuous havoc upon the french colonial outpost. Once the greatest city in Indochina, it now appears to be a dirty hole of a city where you can’t cross the road and all you want to do is get out. Beep -beep beeep beep beeep beeeep and not a friggin’ indicator in sight. The traffic is relentless. There are no rules except he who dares wins. There appears to be no manners involved, in fact a mannerly upbringing might well prevent you from getting anywhere. Beep beep beeep, Left right, duck weave, float like a butterfly sting like a bee, why’d the chicken cross the road?  close your eyes and hope you told someone who your next of kin is. Narrow narrow streets, dirty kitchens, dirty bathrooms, hawkers who wont give up, who start at 100,000 Vnd for a bag of fruit, when the real price is 2 or 3ooo Vnd. That’s because you’re a tourist and it is presumed you wont understand the currency. How could you? You’re too dumb to cross the road…….

Typical !!

A quiet street scene

Tree Shrines are everywhere

We looked for the heart of this place, I wouldn’t leave until I had something to write but the search was not bearing fruit. Everywhere was a bad experience waiting to happen. I couldn’t find the fabled french influence. Sure they had bread, good on them, they had bread in the Gulags. I thought if I learned something about the country I might understand the place and then I could leave. So I went to the National Museum of Vietnamese History, which sounds damn impressive. My Frommers Guide writes it up as an “exhaustive collection of Vietnamese artifacts with detailed explanation of Vietnamese History”, and this sounds like the place for me. It could have been, if I was 6 years old. Hands down this is the worst Museum I have ever been in (and I went to one in Manchester). They have some arrowheads, a silk robe and a lot of copies. They have a single line of information about the ruling dynasties of the past. They have almost nothing about the revolt against France and sod all about the Viet Nam war. In Viet Nam they do not want to teach history, and clearly my guide book hadn’t gone to the trouble of discovering this.

The Central Lake in Hanoi

Same again

In Hanoi we were willing to believe our lack of feeling for the place may have been our own fault. We stayed at the party hostel and they do party well, but they don’t take the traveler to the right parts of the city, they take you where they have no competition. Having said that there are great pictures of my hallowe’en pirate and Elaine’s delectable little angel partying the night away……….

Food Market

Two things the hostel did do for us though was allow us to meet so many different folks, the enthusiastic Canadians, well traveled Brits, loud Aussies and even louder Kiwis, the learned Israeli who when asked on hallowe’en night what he came as answered “a terrorist! no costume needed”, how we laughed. …. And the Bia Hoi. This is fresh beer, drank as its brewed, drunk as its drank. There is no telling how strong it is, but it is sour like old youghurt and takes more than a little getting used to. It costs 12cent a glass and is bought at random places on the side of the street. One crossroads has 4, 1 on each corner, where you pull up tiny toytown kindergarden chair, scrach your ears with your knees and gulp it down (it’s not one for savouring). A fantastic experience. I have brothers who’d love it.

A few million Junks

We sodded off to Halong Bay. Halong is the fallen dragon. A big limestone dragon fell out of the sky (wouldn’t you if you were that heavy) and sprawled itself into the bay area, only partially submerging, and leaving spikes and protruding broken limbs everywhere. The result of dragon carcass on landscape is dramatic, the giants causeway my ass, in fact the causeway couldn’t wipe this dragons ass, sprawling as it does for hundreds of kilometers with over 3000 “karsts” in total. Its sunny, its misty, its quiet, its mystical, it’s a foggy dew and a galway girl of a tour, if there weren’t a million wooden junks vying for your trade and sea space. I’m not knocking this one, it was amazing, what a place…. 

1 of many great views

 Elaine & I went kayaking into some hidden lagoons where there was only us, the rock and the eagles soaring overhead, so many eagles. It was so so quiet. We liked it. We toured a magnificent cave, with great rock formations, only discovered by a stranded fisherman in 1994. We ate squid and fish on the boat. We visited a little floating fishing village. We took photos to beat the band.

Another fine view

Towards Sunset

But the boats, so many boats, and the scooters, so many scooters, and the hawkers, I think you’re getting the gist of it…… Viet Nam is the land of plenty.

Back in Hanoi we were detetermined. Bolstered with a few more details we scrounged from myriad guidebooks and titbits from every traveler who had anything good to say, we set off again into the unknown (after breakfast though).

Elaine has brekkie, streetstyle

Feeling oddly comfortable with the traffic din,  I was staring down scooters as I crossed the roads dragging Elaine along behind me, we began to negotiate our way out of the old city and into the boulevards (a stretch maybe but this is the part where I go easy on the city). Where the roads are wider and the people richer, the shops are high end and the traffic lights obeyed. What? People are actually stopped at red lights. Clearly the local cops care what happens around here.

When traffic laws are obeyed

So there are restaurants and bars here (above our traveler budget but very pleasant on a holiday budget), a fine opera house and fine houses too. An altogether different place. Still not we were looking for though. We want good food on a budget, interesting bars & cafes, accessible culture and a smile wouldn’t go astray either.

We visited Hoa Lo Prison, where the French kept communist “insurgents” and subsequently where the Vietnamese kept American Pilots including the notable John McCain for 6 years (they should have kept him longer). I enjoyed this. It was so over the top comrade, there can be no doubt about the victors writing history but enjoyable all the same. Some of the stories here are quite good and the conditions, particularly when it was French were utterly inhumane. The Hanoi Hilton as it became known in the VN war is worth a tour.

Let them eat cake

The happy medium exists in Hanoi. It is hard to find and no one wants to show you. North of the central lake, at Hang Be there is an area of the old city with some little hotels, restaurants and bars. It is cute and cramped but fair and friendly. They food is so fresh you can taste the forest floor. Elaine ordered a dish based on aubergine and they went to market to buy the ingredients. We sat on balconies and watched the nighttime pass below with a Hanoi beer and a smile. People thanked us for our custom. (now that was a culture shock) There is Bao Khanh/Ha Hanh street, just off the Hoan Kiem central lake, a hidden gem that the locals called Old street. With cafes & bars & no traffic though it is slap bang in the middle of the city. Try Polite Pub or Le Cafe des Artes for some artisan baking. It takes days to find these areas but they utterly changed our minds about the city. Fueled by their food and rested by their quiet you are recharged to face the city and enjoy it. They are oasis’.

Where Scooters breed

The hostels don’t tell you and tourist maps don’t point them out. Unless you are lucky enough to discover them or be stationed in one of their little boutique hostels (by chance) you might never know, and like so many travelers I met, just decide to get to hell out of Hanoi. There is way more money being poured into the trips beyond Hanoi (Sapa for trekking & hill tribes, Halong for being awestruck) than is staying in Hanoi and its the city’s attitude that does it. Visitors here are overwhelmed and almost scared to ask for help (who would answer?)  and I guess that’s what culture shock is. But we didn’t give in and the city didn’t swallow us up and you know what?

I want to go back.

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