Slick’s apartment, Harrogate, Saturday 12th November, 16:13
Cheerio chaps! Slick here, safely ensconced back within the damp, grey embrace of beloved England. It’s been a hell of a ride, and my bag has yet to make it back with me- thanks British midlands!- but I’m here now and it is ludicrous how easily I have slipped back into the old rhythms of life at home. For now I’m living with my brother here in God’s own county- and next, who knows? Anything could happen.
Now however, I am once again going to cast my mind back into the increasingly bluury past of mid-september. My companions and I had finally arrived in Ho Chi Minh city, former capital of South Vietnam.
Vietnam is mad. First of all, even by asian standards it is ludicrously cheap- maybe half the price of Bangkok for food, drink and accomodation. Secondly, you would not believe the sheer number of scooters rocketing around the dangerously haphazard and overcrowded streets. Seriously, even Top Gear did not do justice to the importance and prevalence of these two wheeled menaces.
Saigon is particularly strange. The weight of the war is felt pretty heavily here in old South Vietnam. We visited the art museum- much of the art was devoted to the theme of war and resistance to imperialism. We went on a day long tour of the nearby Mekong delta; and our guide for the first part of the day was a former Colonel in the South Vietnamese army who assured us that he loved everybody, even the Americans. I subsequently learnt that he was lucky to be alive at all- most South Vietnamese P.O.W’s had been forced to march across minefields to win their freedom- which is why, incidentally, there isn’t anywhere near as much unexploded ordnance in Vietnam as there is in neighbouring countries like Cambodia and Laos which the Americans bombed heavily. Most harrowing of all, we went to the War Remnants museum (formerly known as the War Crimes museum) which illustrated, in truly excruciating detail, the suffering inflicted on Vietnam throughout the war, in particular the mutations caused by Agent Orange- mutations which are even now passed down through each generation. It will be a very long time before the scars of war are healed in Vietnam.
In stark contrast to the city, the countryside around the Mekong Delta is a vision of pastoral idyll. The drive there was replete with countryside vistas, featuring straw hatted peasants standing in rice-fields and holding buffalo on strings. We spent a very pleasant day puttering about the delta on boats, visiting various islands. Highlights were a visit to a “coconut candy” factory (coconut candy is surprisingly nice), a bee farm (which featured some adorable puppies) and some truly awful “local music”. As evening fell, we set off back to the city- only to have the bus break down for an hour or so by the side of the road. Still, slight delay aside, we all made it back in one piece. We’d assessed a variety of transport options during our stay, and we’d settled on a sleeper bus; a hop on, hop off bus which would take us all the way to Hanoi, in as many legs as we wanted/time allowed. So, on our last day, we leisurely took in a film- Conan, maybe? I struggle to remember which- and in the evening we got in a bus, which would take us overnight to the beach side resort of Nha Trang. Now, a word of advice about Vietnamese sleeper buses- they are designed for Vietnamese women. Every is assigned a bed/couch thing, crammed in like sardines. My friend Schlafmaus, who is extremely short, was totally fine. I was a little uncomfortable. Rebel, who is a few inches taller than me and a lot broader besides, spent the night in perfect agony. Next time I think we’ll take the train…
As the day dawned extremely hot, we arrived in Nha Trang, which is a charming little seaside town, only recently starting to lean towards tourism/commercialism. We spent a delightful afternoon just lazing around on the beach and swimming in the bath-water warm sea. In the evening we chatted with a Geordie whose wordly welath had been stolen by a Vietnamese girl, twice- the same girl. She must have been doing something right, I guess- and was therefore forced to become a diving instructor in order to sustain himself.
The next day we also spent mostly on the beach. After an abortive attempt to trade Schlafmaus to a seedy Vietnamese man in exchange for some beer, we begrudgingly resumed our sleeper-bus ride (on a marginally better bus this time, it has to be said) and took an overnight journey to the ancient city of Hoi An.
Hoi An was, and is, one of the best places I have been to on my travels. The old town is beautiful- full of windy little alleys and traditional architecture- and the riverside at night is truly spectacular, lined with lamps of a thousand different colours. Once every month there is a light festival, when all the locals light candles in boats and float them down the river. Sadly, it was not on while we were there, but it is a wonderful town nonetheless.
Hoi An is also known as the city of tailors- an appellation it well deserves. Having trawled the town in an agony of indecision of whether I should buy yet more custom tailoring (I had a suit and a coat awaiting me in Bangkok) I finally sucked it up, followed my heart, and ordered the most wonderful purple silk suit (with green lining) you have ever seen in your life. Seriously; this thing is glorious.
We also spent another day on the beach in Hoi An- although to reach the beach, I once again had to master the hell-beast which is the common bicycle. Still, it was well worth it- the beach in Hoi An is a little ways out of the town (hence the bikes) and it really does make a difference in the level of peaceful idyll you experience. We walked along the beach as the sun went down, and, having narrowly avoided getting lost in the utter darkness no the way home, we returned to our hotel with heavy hearts, knowing that the next day we would have to leave this magical place. Still, the road rolls ever on; in this case, it was rolling is on into North Vietnam and the capital, Hanoi. But first we had to survive yet another journey in a sleeper bus…
The adventure continues anon.
Slick
P.S sorry I’m dragging this out so long- frankly I think the account is starting to suffer from the increasing haziness of my power of recollection- but I don’t want to make any one post too long and, as ever, my Muse is an ephemeral thing. That, plus I’m lazy
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