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Hanoi
It’s been almost 40 days since I left Laos, life was easy,
the pace was slow and the sun shone bright all day. I loved every moment in
Luang Prabang and it was only that I feared I was becoming too laid back and
feared I’d never get anything done if I stayed that I moved on (and my Visa was
going to run out…)
So when the plane landed in Hanoi, Vietnam and the pilot
informs us that having just flown from a sunny 40 degree Luang Prabang we were
to be treated to such delights as 15 degrees and rain you can imagine my joy.
The feeling of disappointment was mutual between all passengers.
Walking to the bus stop through the rain and smog I couldn’t
help but feel inspired, what with all the grey concrete and fragrant litter. We
knew we needed to catch the number 17 bus so plonked ourselves at the stand for
number 7 and 17. The number 7 arrived and left, and then another and another
but no 17. We were continuously fighting off taxi and tuk-tuk drivers quoting
well over the odds for the journey into town, to put it into context the bus is
30p while a taxi was over £10. The stop had by now filled up with backpackers
all waiting for the number 17, there was a Vietnamese girl also waiting for the
bus, this gave everyone a false hope that this was the right stop and so we
just waited. Around 30 minutes had past when the Vietnamese girl walked over to
a man sitting on a golf caddy, they exchanged some frantic words then she came
over and gestured to all of us that we need to get on the golf caddy. Lots of
hand signals and pointing later it was understood that the number 17 no longer
stops here and that he was going to take us. It wasn’t clear whether he was
going to take us to the number 17 or if he was going to take us to the city
centre. Travelling down a motorway style road in Vietnam on the back of a golf
caddy is an unnerving experience, bikes and lorries come plowing up to you then
swerve around and cut in front. Some ten minutes later we leave the main road
and travel down a boggy track into a wasteland, stray dogs skulk around piles
of rubble, a gang of tired looking men slouch on a burnt out oil drum, the air
filled with cigarette smoke. It feels very much like this is where tourists
disappear. The Vietnamese girl sparks up another rapid conversation with the
driver and then hurriedly gestures to us to follow her, she walks us down the
road where we are met by a bus, the number 17. It’s doors are wide open, the engine
is on but there is no driver in sight. We climb on board and take a seat, its
almost equally as wet on the bus as it is outside, the damp and smoky smell of
outside perfectly compliments the dusty upholstery of the bus. A young man
jumps onto the bus and enthusiastically walks up and down the aisle before
finding a seat at the front, a second man gets on the bus, they exchange some
words before the second man puts the bus into gear and we start moving. As we
approach the motorway style road the enthusiastic first man comes round and
asks for the bus fair. The smallest note the ATM had issued us had a value of
500,000 Dong, the fair for the bus was 9,600 Dong, it was instantly apparent
that the conductor was not going to have the change for this note, even if he
did. Thankfully, before leaving the UK at the start of the year Hatty’s dad had
given us his Dong (phrasing), at the time we laughed at how minute the value of
this bundle of notes was but now we understood why. The smallest of these notes
was 20,000 Dong, this covered both fairs but didn’t warrant any change, (800
Dong is equal to 0.02p). The bus trundled through the rain, fighting off
traffic with its horn and after an hour of jolting and swerving and heavy
breaking we arrived in the centre of the capitol city.
Our Hotel was on a road called Hang Giay, there are two
streets called Hang Giay in Hanoi, on opposite ends of the city to one another.
They can only be told apart by their pronunciation, the “Giay” either goes high at the end or low. I hadn’t even learnt how to say “hello” yet, least not because
there are different expressions for this depending on whether you are talking
to a man or a woman (that is a stranger to you), a man or a woman (that you
know), a man or a woman that is younger than you or one that is older, or if
you are on the phone, with basic communication being such a mind field I wasn’t
holding out much hope for getting road names right. The bus stop was very near
one of the Hang Giay roads and so we used logic to make this our first attempt.
It worked, within five minutes we had checked in and were
shown to our room. The hotel we had picked was tastefully named, Posh Hotel, we
chose the hotel because of the irony between its name and its price, £6 for a
private double with en-suite, hardly “posh” prices. The gamble of picking
somewhere solely on the entertainment value of it being called “posh” but
probably being shit is however a risky game to play. Luck was on our side today
and as we walked down the marble hallway, its grand double height ceiling
supporting massive crystal chandeliers we started to believe its claim. The
room was beautiful, a place of luxury with large bed and an even larger TV, an
extravagant bathroom complete with bathrobes, not to mention a mini bar stocked
with beers, soft drinks and food all for more than reasonable prices (a beer
was 60p). I don’t know if it would class as “posh” but it was certainly swanky
and an unbelievable steal for £6.
It later became an absolute godsend that this room was an
enjoyable place to be as the following days in Hanoi were to be without doubt
the most miserable of the trip.
Outside the rain continued to fall and the grey of the sky
merged into the grey of the buildings, everything looked tired and miserable, I
couldn’t understand why only a few hours ago I was in one of the most
beautiful, peaceful places I’ve ever been and now I’m here, damp and
disgruntled. We wander the streets to see if there is life beyond the smog but as
I walk past a stall selling a delicacy that I had until now avoided I regret
coming to Hanoi even more. There were at least 15 dogs stacked on top of each
other, they had been skinned and boiled whole- they still had their eyes for
fucks sake. I am certainly no vegetarian, I am certainly guilty of buying meat,
sometimes from questionable sources and of questionable quality, so have no
right to lecture others on their carnivorous choices. I also understand that
different cultures have different views of animals and that in this particular
culture the dog is both viewed as a cheap source of protein and is readily
available but I cant pretend that seeing mans best friend on the meat counter
is a sight I enjoyed. I think I struggled with the mass of canine corpses in
front of me as I had only recently read about the methods by which the animal
is prepared for the table. In order for the dog to produce the most desirable
flavours it is believed that the dog, or rather puppy should be hung, alive and
then beaten with sticks to break down the fat and spread the blood around the
body and left until dead. Now I am fully aware that the methods by which
chickens are mass produced for our consumption back home can be less than
ethical but this just seems barbaric, what’s worse is that on the whole people
don’t actually enjoy the taste of pooch. Regardless of the morality of my own
meat habits or whether these dogs were killed the traditional way or not I was
becoming rapidly less enthused by Hanoi.
We returned back to the grandeur of our budget palace and
ordered some food, I had spicy dog salad, joke, joke, joke. We sat in the
rooftop restaurant and watched the world below, from up here all the motorbikes
rushing about, over loaded with everything from people to plants looked like
worker ants scurrying from place to place. It was entertaining but that only
endeared me so far.
The following morning we walked out into the rain, the air
was muggy and the roads thick with sludge. The plan for the day was to visit
both the Vietnam museum of Revolution and the Vietnam Military History museum,
we had been quite late risers and so didn’t arrive at the museum until 11am. It
is common place for things to close for lunch, “lunch” can span from 11am until
2.30pm. The museums were not as generous with their breaks as some places and
so only closed from 11.30-13.30. We were a little out of the centre and the
weather was, for lack of a better phrase, dog shit so we seeked refuge in a
near-by café’ and killed a couple of hours.
Both museums were fairly non-descript, the information
boards were very rarely in English and as my Vietnamese is non-existent I can’t
say I got that much from them. We moved on fairly quickly to the Vietnam
Citadel, one of the most recent historic sites opened to the public. The main
attraction of the Citadel is the bunker, where North Vietnams military
commanders plotted their successful campaign again the US and South Vietnamese
forces. Another highlight for me was the parking lot filled with Apache
helicopters, tanks, heavy artillery and B52 bombers, those that were intact had
steps allowing you look inside, there were also large sculptures made from the
scraps of some of the American planes that had been shot down. I didn’t really
learn anything new from this but it was cool to look at it in a “boys and their
toys” way.
My experience of Hanoi went from bad to worse when I woke up
the following morning with a very urgent need to visit the bathroom. The next
24 hours were spent in the room, more specifically the bathroom as I endured
the single worst case of the poo’s I have ever known. The phrase; “a costume of
a man” springs to mind.
The following day was our last in Hanoi, the evening would
see us catching a night train to Hue (pronounced H-way). After checking out as late as possible we still had eight hours
to kill, eight hours on the damp streets, eight hours without a toilet fixed to
my backside. Thankfully by night fall I was feeling much better and was
grateful for that as I boarded the train for the 13 hour journey.
The train was great, it was a sleeper and I had the top
bunk, there was a tannoy in the room which played inexplicably loud music, that
wonderful volume where everything becomes distorted. It drove itself into your
brain and conversation was impossible, it was almost certainly a form of torture.
My endearment to Vietnam continued to grow.
As the train pulled away the music died down and was instead
replaced by the sound of a softly spoken man who began to tell a story, he
talked about Hanoi, about its history and its people. The last thing I remember
is the line, “so long Hanoi, farewell Hanoi, we love you Hanoi”. The first two
parts I strongly agree with, the latter not so much. With that I was sound
asleep and I remained in this slumpber until around 6am when the couple below
made their exit from the train. We still had about three hours to go but having
slept for almost the first ten I couldn’t believe how easy the ride had been.
An hour on and the train cruised to a standing stop, about
ten minutes later the tannoy fired up, this time it was the driver, he
explained that there had been an accident ahead that had damaged the track, we
were going to travel to the next station and from there either change trains or
get a bus. We didn’t move for another hour and then when we did it was at a snails
pace, we made regular, unexplained stops for varying lengths of time, 15
minutes here, 50 minutes there. About three hours on from the initial stop we
pulled up alongside another train, we sat still on the tracks for about half an
hour and then the door of our cabin opened and a family of four came in and sat
down on the bed beside us. From the window we could see that the train beside
us was off loading its passengers onto our train. At the time we assumed that
this was the train involved in the accident, the carriages filled up but still
the train just sat there.
An hour passed and then the engines fired up and we began to
sluggishly pull away from the now abandoned train and continue on our journey.
Another hour on we arrived at a station, I recognised its name from our train
schedule and knew that it was two hours (normal speed) away from Hue. The train
didn’t stop here for long and actually picked up speed, aside from the five or
so hour delay and the brat kid who kept kicking me the journey wasn’t too bad.
We made some ground before once again coming to halt. Here the train stood
still for half an hour before people began being ushered off the train, out of
the station and literally crammed into buses. People and bags filled every inch
of space, I was thankful for the lack of vision given the speed the driver was
travelling at, swerving and screeching past everything on the road until
suddenly the speed dropped and I felt everyone turn to the right. Peeking
through a gap in my bag I could see outside, large numbers of men were gathered
in the road, beyond them lay a train, some of which was upright on the track
some on its side definitely not on the track. The front of the train was
basically missing and in its place was a dumper truck that was split into two
pieces. No sooner had we passed this grim spectacle the driver once again
stepped on the gas and propelled us onwards.
We arrived at the next station, squeezed out of the bus and
boarded another train, the conductor told us to go to our original seats, which
we did. Opening the door to our cabin we were greeted by six pairs of eyes
glaring at us and gesturing like there was no room. We weren’t taking no for an
answer and used our ticket as validation that we should be in here, it then
became apparent that we all shared the same seat numbers as this train was
filling up with those affected by the crash from some three or even four
trains. The top bunks almost buckled under the weight of all the bags meanwhile
on the bottom bunk the expression, too close for comfort springs to mind. Still
the conductor came round and insisted more people come into the cabin, he told
us that we must also sit on the top bunk, which was obviously struggling under
the weight of the bags. These suggestions angered the German couple and they
made it very clear to him that no one would be sitting on the top bunk and no
one else would be coming in. The Dutchman had a similar view but instead of
using words just slowly closed the door to the cabin. Joining us the room alongside
the Germans and the Dutch was a Korean couple and a Vietnamese man. The
Vietnamese man spoke excellent English so on the conductors third trip to our
cabin we used him to explain to the conductor why having more people in here is
just plain dangerous, whatever was exchanged there meant we were no longer
bothered. We shared some light hearted conversation, discovered that the
Koreans had left Hanoi more than an hour before us and this was their third
train of the trip. The Germans were getting annoyed at how inefficient it all
was, the Dutchman remained laid back and like us the Koreans just took it all
in their stride, adopting that, we’ll get there when we get there attitude.
Another half hour passed and then an announcement came over
the tannoy, in Vietnamese. So we all looked over at the Vietnamese man who had
already started to translate for us. The message was for all those travelling
on a certain number ticket to move over to the other train which had just
pulled up. This meant saying goodbye to the Koreans, the Germans became a
little envious as they believed the other train was going to leave quicker but
the Dutchman quickly changed the subject with a more pressing matter- where can
I get hot water for my Pot Noodle? The Koreans left but still both trains
remained in the platform.
Another twenty minutes passed and the door to our cabin
swung open, the Koreans had returned. For some unknown reason the other train
was now being emptied of people and everyone was piling onto our train. Four,
full train loads of people now condensed to one train. No sooner had the
Koreans sat down the train pulled away from the station and set off, once again
for Hue.
HUE
More than 21 hours after leaving Hanoi we arrived in Hue, it
was dry, warm and there were no dead dogs on the street these things alone make
it substantially better than Hanoi. We check into our room and then head
straight out into the city in search of food. Found a nice Italian place,
filled our bellies and then took a walk along the river.
The following morning we decided on getting some culture.
After fighting off Tuk-Tuk drivers, hawkers and touts we crossed a narrow road
and ducked under a stone archway and into the Imperial City. There isn’t a great
deal to do here except to wonder the grounds, Hatty was taken back by the
flowers and the river that run through one of the gardens. I was more occupied
with all the lizards scuttling about the place. The weather was almost
unbearable but this place offered us a cool breeze and beautiful views, for the
first time I felt properly relaxed in Vietnam.
The remainder of day was spent in Allez Boo, a bar &
restaurant complete with Pool table. They have an extensive food menu and even
more extensive drinks one, they also run a very generous Happy Hour making
cocktails cost about a £1, the pool table was free and the food just kept
coming. Our table was steadily filling up with glasses and someone was getting
to the “karaoke” stage so we went to settle the bill and head back when all of
a sudden the skies opened up and sheets of rain quickly flooded the streets. The
waiter looks outside, looks at me and says “Mojito?”, with that the drinks kept
coming and we played pool until we couldn’t see the table and then sang along
to the absolute classics coming out of the speakers. We settled up our £15 bill
and stepped out into the lake.
DENANG
Our next stop was Denang, we travelled there via train. The
journey was ok only around 4 or 5 hours, there was no space for bags so we made
ourselves a bag fortress and settled in for the ride.
Arriving in Denang was quite literally a breath of fresh
air. For the first time since the south of Thailand my feet were on sand and I
could hear the sea as its waves crashed onto the shore. The air was cooler, the
sun was brighter, I didn’t have to wear shoes. Our accommodation is a bit naff
but this is the first place in Vietnam where I have wanted to be outside so I
don’t care.
We walk the street looking for something to eat and are met
by seafood restaurant after seafood restaurant. They were all empty bar one
which has customers spilling out onto the street, the critters were all in tanks
along the front of the building from crabs to eels to god knows what, if I said
there was a whole shark in there somewhere you’d better believe it. We took a
seat just inside the restaurant and waited for a menu, a waitress came over and
just said, “he’ll take your order”, pointing over to a young boy near the
tanks. We wondered over and were asked to pick what we wanted from the tanks.
I’d never done this before and seeing all the crabs clambering over one
another, the fish bobbing about complete unaware of their fate I did start to
feel a bit mean but then this tanks of monster shrimps came into my field of
vision. “I’ll have some shrimp”, “kilo or ½” he said, “kilo, and a crab” I
said. We chose how we wanted them cooked, with lemon grass, ginger, chili, the
options reeled off, finally we added a side of fried spinach then returned back
to the table.
The bucket of shrimp turned up first, they were steaming hot
and fully intact, Hatty’s face was a picture. Seafood wasn’t something she ever
entertained as a meal, the eyes looking at her from the plate weren’t making it
anymore appetising for her either. I picked one up and began removing the head
and tail but was quickly interrupted by the waitress, or was now wearing gloves
and wielding an empty bucket. She proceeded to de-shell all the shrimps and
then place then on our plates one by one, I wasted no time in devouring these
colossal crustaceans, Hatty on the other hand was a little more cautious. “Ah
ma ghad dees shrimps is derishus” scoffed a little voice from across the table.
I looked over the mound of shells in front of me to see Hatty eagerly working
her way through shrimp after shrimp. In her own words she “devoured them like a
pug”.
The table tipped up as the waitress lowered the mammoth crab
on to it, again I attempted to dissect him but she quickly returned to the
crime scene, gloves on hand and armed with all manor of metal implements. She
chiselled, cracked and chopped until Mr Crabby was a pile of delicious, fluffy
meat. I wasted no time in emptying a claw into my belly. Hatty had a stab at it
but decided she was a shrimp girl, I cleaned up the plates and then asked for
the bill. The food was undeniably fresh and equally delicious but the final
bill almost knocked us off our chairs. We had been quite accustomed to paying
50,000 dong for a meal, so when the bill arrived at a cool 1,000,000 dong I
almost joined the pile of carcasses on the table. 1,000,000 dong is around £30,
which may seem a fair price for exquisitely fresh seafood, expertly prepared
and I agree but in my backpackers mind this was a monumental disaster, a
seriously ill calculated waste of money and man was I still hungry.
To add insult to injury, this expenditure had used up all
the funds in my wallet. We walked the streets in search of an ATM to very
little success. We asked where the nearest one was and people ever laughed or
just said “very far, too far”. This didn’t put us off as we had learnt from our
time in Vietnam that anywhere is too far if you’re walking. It seems to be
beyond their imagination that you would or could do something without being on
the seat of a motorbike. We used the trusted Google maps and he assured us that
there was an ATM around 2km past our hotel. We set off on this marathon and
before long strolled right up to a cash machine, withdraw a couple million, (no
big deal) then dragged our withering bodies back towards the hotel.
As luck would have it we wondered past a pizza restaurant,
pulled up a table and ordered ourselves a, albeit less delicious but
substantially more filling dinner than our seafood escapade. The bill arrived,
a more satisfying 65,000 dong (£2) and off we pootled to the room.
The following day we hitched a lift 7km out of town to the Marble
Mountains, a series of five mountains, if the legend is to be believed these
were formed from a dragons egg, which under the strict supervision of a golden
turtle cracked open after a 1,000 days. The egg broke into five pieces, each piece
created a separate mountain, one for each of the elements; fire, water, metal,
wood and earth. Each mountain also has its own cave, most of which are eerily
decorated to resemble Hell itself. The taxi driver asked if we wanted him to
wait for us, partly because we didn’t know how long we’d be and partly for the
look on his face we said no, it would be ok, we were going to walk back.
Poo-pooing our lift back was instantly regrettable, the
steep stairs winding inside the caves and back up to the peaks of the mountains
saw me becoming suitably drenched in sweat, short of breathe and not the least
bit interested in even attempting the 7km hike home in 30 degree heat.
I had packed a towel in my bag knowing full well that any
amount of exercise in this heat would see me ending up a sodden mess. I felt
disgusting as I walked around the caves continuously patting my damp forehead,
swiping the sweat from my forearms and squinting from all the salt in my eyes
all the while everyone else seemed unfazed by the heat. Then I saw him, a man
of similar build to me, wearing a black t-shirt like me and clutching an
off-white towel, a puddle of perspiration on the floor below him. I raised by
towel at him and nodded, he reciprocated the gesture and with the all the
energy he could muster exclaimed, “it’s the only way”. I was not alone.
The caves themselves from what I could tell through the
burning slits where my eyes once sat were very impressive. The addition of
devil beasts, torture scenes and implements of pain were slightly unnerving if
not a little entertaining. Entry to the peaks of the mountains were offered in
two price brackets, cheap for the treacherous, manual route or slightly less
cheap for the elevator. I did option A Hatty option B. She met a very different
man at the top, beaming red face, demonic eyes, raspy voice. I wouldn’t have
looked out of place back in the caves alongside all the Beelzebub’s.
Again, the views from up here were astonishing, or at least
that’s what people were saying. All I could see was a series of foggy outlines
thanks to the relentless globules of sweat now permanently residing in my eyes.
It was fair to say we didn’t walk back to town.
Back in the room, located under the aircon unit I was still
a complete mess. I looked in the mirror and decided that if I cut my curly mop
of hair off I would instantly cool down. I took to my head with a pair of
clippers which in true fashion cut way too short and inevitably ran out before
I’d even finished one side. I looked like I had Alopecia and despite Hatty’s
hysterical laughter I was not amused. I had little trust in Hatty’s scissor
skills when it came to my hair but I had even less choice, so let her loose on
my barnet. We were both surprised with the end result, not only did we consider
it a job well done I was also actually starting to feel cool.
HOI AN
The next destination on our tour of Vietnam was the stunning
Hoi An. We stayed at a place called Tropical Garden homestay, the room was incredible,
large, lots of natural light and astonishing views across the families many
gardens. The air was full of wildlife, no motorbikes revving or car horns
beeping, it was the very essence of tranquillity.
Tropical Garden was very
family orientated, the restaurant backed onto their house and you could even do
tours which included, “farming with the family”, “fishing with the family” or
our favourite, “meet the family”. The lady who checked us in was so welcoming
and friendly that for probably the first time in the trip a tour actually
sounded worthwhile. We said we would potentially be interested in the farming
option at a later date but for now just wanted to take a look around Hoi An.
“Ok, so you’ll be back at 4pm for fishing and garden tour?” We reiterated our
“not today” answer and then set off to see Hoi An, well the beach at least.
The homestay was a little over a kilometre from the beach
and the family offer bicycle rental for free but all the bikes were out so we
happily made our way on foot, much to the confusion of the family. Like I said
before, Vietnamese people really don’t understand why you would want to walk
anywhere.
The beach was fantastic, sea and sand as far as the eye
could see. The beach was impeccably clean and not at all overcrowded. We set up
camp and then jumped in the sea to cool off. The current here is very strong
and the waves that crash onto the shore are big enough to dunk you each and
every time they roll up and over you. It was endless fun running through the
water and then belly flopping over them, taking it in turns to face away from
them so they could unsuspectingly engulf you or simply laying on the beach and
letting them pull you in and then wash you back up onto the shore. The waves
weren’t quite high enough to surf, there were groups of people kite surfing and
body boarding but for me belly flopping was arguably more fun.
Along the top of the beach are a number of restaurants with
nothing much to distinguish them from one another, we picked one at random and
took a seat. A lady took our order and moments later her son, who was no more
than five years old. He was pimped out in gold bracelets, necklaces and had a
Gucci baseball cap on, he swaggered over with our drinks, pulled a bottle
opener from his back pocket, spun it on his finger, popped the lids off our
drinks then span round and went back over to his mum. As we sat waiting for the
food we witnessed him charm his way around the restaurant floor and his tips
kept rolling in, the kid was cool as hell and was packing some serious dollar.
I order a beef salad and Hatty, who is now turning into an
addict, keeps up her shrimp habit and goes for a salad with the little crustaceans
on top. With clean plates, we go to settle up the bill and then stupidly
realise we haven’t bought enough money out with us. Thankfully the waitress is
very understanding and we quickly march our way back to the room to grab some
more dollar. Being the gent that I am, I volunteer to take the money back as I
noticed some bikes had returned and it would be easy enough for me to go on my
own. I look around downstairs for a member of the family to ask but can only
find the grandma character who is bent double and with even less English than I
have Vietnamese. We play a game of charades from which she understands that I
would like to borrow a bike and ushers me over to one. I go to get on it but
she places her hand on the seat and says 500. I look confused as I’m near
positive they are free but hey there might be a deposit. 500,000 is £15 so I
shook my head and say “No, too much” and offer her 100 (£3) but she took the
500 and grinned like a salamander. I took it back, getting a little frustrated
and went to walk saying “I’ll walk, I’ll walk” when she took her hand off the
bike and said “Okay” smiling like her little trick had failed. In less than 10
minutes, I was back in the room and gave Hatty the heads up on the old fraud.
We wake up as spritely as elves, keen for another day on the
beach. We grab two bikes (No salamander in sight) and pedal our way to the
sand. Push bikes are so popular here that there is a roaring trade for “safe”
parking spaces. From the moment you approach the beach, there are old ladies
ushering you into their lots. We try to be diplomatic and go for the middle
ladies who seem most cheerful. One compliments Hatty on her hair whilst simultaneously
pulling my beard whilst imitating cutting it off, oh how we laughed. The price
for the day was $1 or 10,000 each which would equate to 60p, we pay up and
return to our spot on the beach. Late that afternoon, back at the homestay, a
little crisper than we were this morning, the family quiz us about spending all
day on the beach. We shrug off our sloth like behaviours with a laugh and
freshen up in the room. It’s not long however before we are feeling peckish so
go and check out the options down stairs. The family are mid-way through their
own dinner so instead of disturbing them we get a taxi into the town.
Old Town Hoi An is picturesque with colonial style shop
fronts and cobbled streets lit by low hanging red lanterns. It was like a fairy
tale town. The town comprises a well preserved complex of 1107 timber framed
buildings, 600 of which house tailors and that’s no exaggeration. There is no
shortage of places to eat either and we stumble into a narrow 10 seater
restaurant which easily has the best food we have eaten so far in Vietnam.
Teamed with their 15p in house brewed beer, it’s a winner. Unfortunately we
don’t get much further into Hoi An than this as our sun worshipping earlier has
knocked us both for 6.
Having had the price of the farming experience revealed, $25
each we kindly declined as this was out of our budget, furthermore you don’t
actually do any farming you just watch the family do it which to me defeats the
object of why I would have wanted to it, ie learn a new skill and it’s also a
but creepy. Instead I said I’d like to go fishing, you leave early in the
morning and set off with the local fishermen in their traditional woven basket
boats and catch your breakfast, all for $3. I was told to be ready by 7am the
following morning.
Keen to have a go at this I was first down for breakfast,
which arrived and got eaten at a rate of knots. I sat waiting for one of the
sons of the family who was going to take me to the fishermen. 7.30am came, so
did 8am and 8.30am. When he arrived close to 9am he looked surprised that I was
still here, I asked what time we were going fishing and he said there was no
hurry. First he wanted to take us on a garden tour then I’d go fishing and then
we would have a Vietnamese cooking class. He didn’t talk of prices, he made it
sound very much like it was all part of the fishing experience but I wasn’t convinced.
I asked how much, $32 his reply, that’s each by the way. Hatty had repeatedly
made it very clear that she did not have any interest in fishing, and I wasn’t
interested in the garden tour or the cooking class but simply just wanted to go
fishing. All this fell on deaf ears as he just came back with, first we will do
a garden tour then fishing then cooking class. This line appeared time and time
again but after a lot of back and forth he changed the deal to us both having a
garden tour ($50), me going fishing ($3) and then me and Hatty meeting up again
at the cooking class, the cost for which was now tied with the garden tour.
His tireless efforts to force us to pay for something we
don’t want to do was having one effect on our decision, that was to not do any
at all. The whole thing had gone on too long so I decided to be crystal clear
with him, I would go on the fishing tour, it will cost $3 and that is all, or
if you insist on adding the garden tour or cooking class in once more I will
forget the whole thing, no fishing, no tours. The experience had agitated me
and jilted our impression of the homestay, the family were lovely, very
welcoming, they had at times tried to drive sales by asking us if we will visit
the family tailor and so on but it was never pushy. This was a different level,
it was beyond devious it was just plain rude. The atmosphere had changed and I
needed a break away from their intensity.
After a more relaxed day on the beach we went back to the
room, freshened up and called a taxi to take us into the Old Town. The son was
downstairs, he apologised which I gladly accepted, with the peace made we went
in search of dinner.
The small restaurant we had eaten in the night before was so
remarkable that we said we would go again but only for a small snack as there
were so many other options that we also wanted to try. Sometime later we came
out of there holding our busting bellies, top buttons definitely undone. We had
failed miserably at the whole small portion thing. We put the energy boost to
good use and covered much more of the town than the previous night. Once
working our through the narrow cobbled streets, down winding alleyways and down
some steps and onto a bridge which took you over the river. The water and skies
were alight with floating lanterns, the reds and yellows of the paper
reflecting on the dark ripples of water, there was live music and a large
mechanical dragon which occasional spat out flames. There was a mystical,
carnival feel about the place but this was not for a big calendar event this
was simply Hoi An. This uniform of colour and life was spread throughout the
town, it was an energetic place to be.
Once over the bridge you arrive at a street market, selling
everything from food to furniture, second to the Sunday market in Chiang Mai
this is the best of the trip. We picked up a couple of little trinkety bits and
I squeezed in a Vietnamese doughnut, similar in taste to a normal doughnut
except for the size- there it closer resembled a loaf of bread. Hoi An old town
is somewhere you could kill a lot of time and money. We found a coffee shop and
for the first time in an age I had a proper, espresso coffee. This was our last
evening in Hoi An and I wanted to soak as much of it up as possible, ok eat as
much…
The following day we were leaving for Nha Trang. We had some
breakfast and then we met another member of the family, 3 month old baby, Bing.
You haven’t seen cute until you’ve seen a chubby Vietnamese baby.
Our train wouldn’t be
leaving until 22.45 but having checked out at 12 we had some serious time to
waste. The family kindly looked after our bags, allowed us free use of the
bikes and even said we could use the showers when we came back that evening. As
we set off for the beach the son called us over, he explained that once a week
the family have a party for all the guests, they cook a Vietnamese banquet and
everyone gets to eat, drink and be merry. Although we had already checked out
they said we were still very welcome, we just had to be back at 5pm.
With our bodies nicely roasted and sand and salt in every
imaginable place we were very grateful for the ability to have a cold shower.
We freshened up and then made our way to the restaurant, we were the only one’s
there bar the son, who started to tell us a little about himself, the family
and the homestay. Away from danger of any more sales pitches cropping up he was
a really decent guy, very interesting. We found out that the homestay was only
2 months old and this suddenly made a lot of things make sense.
Slowly more guests joined us, there was a couple from the UK
on their honeymoon, a French couple who had been on the road for about six
month, two middle aged English women who, having not been granted entry into
Laos, Vietnam or Cambodia back in the 80’s were keen to see the countries now
the borders were well and truly open. Finally there was a Scottish man who was
a teacher back home but had been living in Vietnam for about 4 months, a month
of which had been spent at this homestay and he’d paid for a further two. He
was seeking a peaceful place away from distraction so he could begin a
screenplay. His in depth knowledge of where to buy the strongest, cheapest beer
in Vietnam didn’t fill me with confidence that the screenplay would be here
anytime soon, but nevertheless the man had travelled so was interesting to talk
to.
Aside from the son none of the other family joined us, which
everyone thought was a little odd but the conversation and food was excellent,
we’d used up all our hours and our taxi pulled up to take us to the train
station.
For the first time in the history of Vietnam not only was
our train on time, it was early, a whole 25 minutes early. We boarded the
train, took our seat and settled in for the ten hour ride to Nha Trang. Aside
from the Chinese couple in front who slurped on their food and hocked and spat
all night the journey was alright.
NHA TRANG
Nha Trang is also known as Moscow by the Sea, we’d heard
this and so obviously expected a dominance of Russian tourists but this was
something else. Shop names, menus, road signs all in Russian. From holiday
makers to hotel staff everyone was Russian. It’s quite a jump from the picture
perfect UNESCO World Heritage site that is Hoi An to the concrete resort that
is Nha Trang. It is unashamedly a town for holiday makers or more specifically
Russian holiday makers. There was a sign on the beach in Denang that boasted
the town had been voted Trip Advisers most up and coming holiday destination in
2015. Denang was a wasteland, sure there was sign of development but no more
than anywhere else in SE Asia, however, had that title been awarded to Nha
Trang then I would believe it.
Initially Nha Trang did not appeal to us, we had loved the
quant lifestyle of Hoi An, the beaches were better, people friendlier and it
had personality and character.
A few times on this trip I have had to check myself, I’ve
found myself being controlled by the negatives of a place instead of looking
for, or even creating a positive. Sat on a white sandy beach looking out across
blue waters, the sun high in the sky and with little else to worry about aside
from what to eat and is it too early to have a beer, I flashed back to images
of rushing about at work, setting an alarm, paying bills... I know this
lifestyle wont last for ever and one day I’ll be back at a desk so until then its
time to create some solid, happy menories.
Like a message from the almighty, the sky lit up and revealed
an outline of an island in the distance. My eyes gazed over to the giant, green
mound in the sea in front of me. Large white letters built into its side spell
out VINPEARL, to my right cable cars some 40 metres, maybe higher in the air
continuously glide from the island to the mainland. Intrigued I search
VINPEARL, and learn that the island is owned by Pham Nhat Vuong, Vietnams first
Billionaire. His initial dose of wealth came when he sold his first business
venture to Nestle for $150, from here he moved into Real Estate and has built
everything from luxury holiday resorts and condos to hospitals and shopping
malls.
One of his latest developments in Vinpearl land, built on
what was Hon Tre island it comprises 5 star luxury hotels, private villas,
restaurants and shopping malls. It all sounds very exclusive and not something
we are interested in seeing. A little more research reveals that the cable car
he had built that takes you from the main land to the island is the biggest in
Vietnam, some sights even claim it to be the biggest (over water) one in the
world. A more than 2 miles from end to end it’s certainly impressive. The views
it offers across the bay sound phenomenal and regardless of what’s on the
island I am desperate to take a ride in the cable cars.
A return ticket on the cars costs £15 per person and we both
agree this is a little steep for what in essence will be no more than 10
minutes of fun, we convince ourselves that the views from the beach equal those
from 40 metres up and that we couldn’t afford to do anything on the island so
it’d be a wasted trip. I wasn’t completely content on this, the island had rave
reviews so I knew I was missing something.
I convinced Hatty it was a good idea and we grabbed a taxi
to the launch site, bought our tickets and waited for the cable car to come
round. We had timed our visit with that of a large cruise ship and so the cars
were motionless whilst this floating monstrosity docked with the shore. An hour
later and the cars were on the move, we jumped in and were propelled out of the
landing hut and high above the sea. The views across the bay, over the islands
and towns were ridiculously beautiful far beyond what I had imagined.
Alongside or ticket for the cable car we were given a map of
the island, the map indicated key areas and information which revealed many new
things to us. Our £15 ticket for the cable car also entitles us to free access
the large aquarium, which is housed in underwater walkways. There is a
waterpark- free, there is a theme park, rollercoasters and dodgems- free, there
is a “self-drive” train which takes to the summit of the island- free. There is
a carnival performance, tropical gardens, waterfalls and a pristine beach- all
free. Aside from the food, which is more reasonable in price than taste it was
to be a fun packed, bargain of a day.
The aquarium was insane, I love lizards and the first
section housed water monitors, iguanas, bearded dragons and every example
between. There was every colour, size and shape of fish and coral. In total
there are more than 300 different species of fish on display here. The main
attraction is the underwater winding walkway which allows you immerse yourself in
the sea life, I look up as two sharks glide over my head, then another to my
right, the light in the room dims as a massive Stingray drifts past. It was so
enjoyable that I went around a second time.
Next stop was the Waterpark. I hadn’t been to waterpark for
a long time but as I climbed the staircase to the entrance of the first ride a
shudder of fear swept over my body. I cant place it but each and every time
I’ve ridden the flumes I’ve experienced a wave of fear, as much as I love being
in the water and as confident a swimmer as I am terrified of drowning and with
the flumes there is only ever one outcome, a dunking. Hatty neither knew of
this fear or cared as she was screaming with exciting before we even reached
the top. Normally she is the hesitant scaredy cat but today she was a thrill
seeking maniac. My face was pale, palms sweaty and heartrate through the roof,
I clung onto the rail and dragged my heavy legs up each step. I couldn’t do
anything to control the fear that was washing over me.
The first ride was a waterslide which comprised of a
vertical drop, a brief uphill and then a stomach churning bit of airtime before
landing back on the slide and into the water. You do this is on foam mat, face
down. I’ve never closed my eyes tighter or gripped something harder, I was
petrified from the off and didn’t feel much relief at the bottom. This
particular ride allows you race a partner and Ol’ Miss Evil Kinevil bombed down
to the bottom, probably on one leg whilst fighting a rattlesnake, I’d never
known her so fearless and me so fearful. I crashed into the water, cold and
drained and was met by Hatty standing above me, a grin from ear to ear
shouting, “AGAIN, AGAIN!”.
Holding back the urge to run or puke, or both I agreed. We
dropped off our foam mats and picked up a double seated inflatable ring. The
next ride was similar in its setup but instead of face down on a mat you jetted
into the water in pairs whilst wedged into the ring. My brain just kept
replaying an image of me being flung out of the ring 50 feet into the air off
the side. Again I just closed by eyes, gripped the handles and held back the
tears. Hatty’s screams did little to encourage me that this was a good idea. At
the bottom I was emotionally exhausted but the Duracell Bunny on crack had
other ideas.
She had spotted a ride so charmingly called, Kamikaze but
thankfully it was closed. We climbed a nearby staircase and I positioned myself
and the mouth of my least favourite thing on this earth, the flumes. I laid
back, crossed arms and feet and just prayed for the moment to be over, I got
twisted and thrown about, light, dark, light, dark, water spray to the face and
then the unmistakable sensation of chlorinated water filling up my nostrils and
eyes and mouth. I do well not to go into full panic mode and after what feels
like an eternity I emerge from under the strong hold of the water. Again, I am
met by a grinning lunatic who’s replaced my girlfriend.
“It’s open!!” she cries. Kamikaze is a water slide that
comprises a sheer drop of about 30 feet, it could be 300 feet for all I care
into a shallow pool or crash mat depending how much speed you pick up. You do
this ride without the aid of a foam mat or rubber ring, you just approach the
top, sit back and slide down on what god gave you. It was a disgusting experience, least not for
the fact that I would be picking swimming trunks out of me for the rest of the
day. But in comparison to the near-death experience I felt after the flumes
this was actually kind of fun. I volunteered to ride this again. I was still
riddled with fear but I was now getting a real adrenaline rush from the rides
and that my friends is one hell of a good feeling. We did a circuit of all the
rides but were really getting geared up for the one they call, Tsunami. It
wouldn’t be open for another half hour so instead of using up all my endorphins
of the flumes we made our way to the beach.
Crystal clear, warm blue water laps against powered white
sands. The beach is almost too perfect to be real. Mr Vinpearl actually imports
the sand, every grain is filtered and cleaned before being laid onto the space
where the original sand once was. Eccentric, no doubt but if it’s advertising
itself as a truly luxury place to holiday then its got to deliver and my word
this sand does that.
Sat in a rubber ring at the top of the initial drop I feel
nauseous; the first time I did it facing outwards. The kind staff member pushes
you away and for a moment you are weightless, rocketing down the slide, the
bottom of the slide curves up and you travel up the opposite side with some
acceleration. My toes almost clipped the edge of the wall before I slid
backwards, half way up the other side and then let momentum do its thing before
finally bringing me down to the ground, off a small edge and into a pool of
water. It was awesome.
We tackled it again by ourselves, then in a double ring
which was more horrible as it felt like I was going to fling Hatty out at the
top. Our next visit to the top saw me push my boundaries more than I had all
day. I put the ring down and went to sit inside but the kind staff member
instructed that I needed to turn around. Dropping off an edge, at speed and
backwards was disturbingly good fun. My sickness had turned into pleasure and I
demanded that we do the double ring again, this time only we would do it
backwards. For the first time it was Hatty who was feeling the tingles of fear.
I have no idea how many times we did that ride but it would be fair to say I
enjoyed it.
The final ride of the park was known as Space Bowl, the
ultimate in testing my fear for drowning. It’s a series of water slides and
flumes, some open topped some plummeting you into pitch darkness, the end
result in a whirlpool which eventually spits you out and into a narrow but deep
pool of water. Its disorientation at its finest and I hated every last second
of it. That completed the water park experience for me and I was beyond ready
for something a little calmer.
I fastened the buckle and sat back in the chair, the motor
fired up and we started to lift off the ground, higher then higher still, our
seats tilted to the side as we picked up speed. When I said calmer perhaps a
theme park wasn’t the first thing that springs to mind. Here, however the
tables turn, Hatty is scared witless of theme park rides while I feel
completely a peace on them. As the swing chairs lift and spin around the centre
pole I have both hands in the air and am trying to swing my chair closer to
Hatty’s, on the odd occasion I actually grip on to her with my feet. She on the
other hand has both hands tightly gripping the sides, her knuckles white, her
eyes shut. She only brakes from screaming to shout at me to get away from her
chair. Despite her total fear of these rides she is still eager to get on the
next one and go through it all again. From swings to dodgems to rollercoasters
we try them all.
The sun is starting to set and there is one thing we haven’t
yet tried. There is a “self drive” train that takes you to the top of the hill
giving you 360 degree views off of the island. The train is more like a
go-cart, each one seats two people and is locked onto a track. On the way up
you have no control, instead the cart is mechanically winched up the steep
slope. It does so at very steady pace and you get some fantastic panoramas, the
hill side is bursting with flowers, there is a waterfall and best of all is the
view back across the bay, emphasised by the setting sun. We reach the top and
due to time of day aren’t able to get out of the cart so begin our decent. We now
have “control”, in so much as we have a brake, the cart rapidly builds up speed
as we spiral down the track, wheels lift off when we corner. This is by far the
hairiest ride of the whole day. We hit a G of force, our cheeks pulled back to
reveal teeth that had never seen light of day, our eyes streamed, everything
went silent. “STOPPPPPPPP!!” Hatty shrieks from the front seat, I pull hard on
the brake, the cart screeches along the track missing sections at a time.
Millimetres in front of us sits a sturdy Russian man, smoking a cigarette and
taking a photo on his phone, he calmly looks around, sees us and releases his
brake. We slowly snake our way back down and exit the cart.
As night falls we get a cable cart back over the mainland,
exhausted and surprised by this gem of an island. £15 well spent.
During our time in Nha Trang, a total of 4 nights we ate at
“Pita GR”, a Greek restaurant a total of 4 times. The first night I had a Moussaka
which was hands down the best Moussaka I had ever eaten, I washed it down with
a couple of ice cold Saigon beers. The following day at lunch we went again and
I had one of their signature freshly made Pita bread wraps with shrimp. The
restaurant is tiny, steps take you off the street and up to the second floor
where tables and chairs barely fit in the space. We hadn’t had any issue
getting a table so assumed it was another case of best kept secret. But that
evening we were met by a lady at the foot of the steps asking if we’d booked.
We hadn’t and her face told us the hard truth that tonight was not going to be
our lucky night. Just as we went to leave one of the waitresses who had seen us
both times called us upstairs, she moved some people about and found us a
table. Tonight we discovered the Pita GR Sharing Platter, it costs £8 and
includes the following, a base of pitas, chips, giant shrimp, calamari,
burgers, lamb shanks, chicken breasts, sausages, a salad and variety of dips
from mustard to tzatziki. It comes out on a tray bigger than the table and sees
that we are both truly stuffed. We wait for the food to settle by washing down
a couple of cocktails, I became pretty fond of their Mojito and Hatty their
Tequila Sunrise.
Pita GR not only gives great service and cooks up awesome
food it also gives out free dessert, every customer gets a slice of their
trademark chocolate pud, a mix of shortbread, cheesecake and brownie at the end
of their meal.
Our final trip to Pita GR was our most successful, instantly
recognised downstairs we bypass the queue waiting for a space, we are sat at a
table ideal for two and without even seeing the menu have two cocktails arrive
at the table, one Mojito and one Tequila Sunrise. A window seat becomes
available and the waitress asks if we’d like to be moved, we happily oblige. No
sooner had we taken the new table, one more suitable for four or even six
people does a large group come up the stairs. They are sat at our old table
which is vaguely joined by another small table. We sit, spaced out looking out
across the street below when our platter turns up. Again we work our way
through the delicious hearty food and once again puts ourselves in a state of
discomfort. Hatty has reached the “I want to go dancing/ karaoke” stage so we
settle the bill and look to head out. As we go to get up the waitress asks, if
we aren’t too busy if we’d mind waiting for a moment. We sat there completely
unsure of what was happening, we assumed they wanted us to fill in a review
card or something, a good few minutes past and still nothing…”two more, how you
say, on the house”, she placed another Mojito and another Tequila Sunrise down
and smiled. After that we were both pissed as two old farts so skipped the
dodgy Russian bars and stumbled back to the room.
Massages had become a bit of a traditional having had one in
all the countries so far, Vietnam wasn’t going to be an exception. Vietnam had
been the first country where we had actually gained a tan, having spent almost
all of our time in the country on a beach. This particular day we may have
spent a few too many hours and so were feeling a little raw. The menu at the
massage salon offered a “Sunburn Soother” and so without a moment’s hesitation
we both opted for that. Granted there was a lot of moisturiser used but it was
equally as aggressive as a Thai or Lao massage, we were pulled and clicked and
knelt on. It was however the first massage where I experienced a dose of fear.
Laying on my front in nothing but my pants everything was going well, then for
no apparent reason I had my pants swiped from me, clean off. There is something
about having a stranger massage your upper, inner thigh while your face down
and butt naked that makes you feel a little vulnerable. She magically dressed
me again before moving onto my upper body and I felt much less self conscious…
the air conditioning was low, it was cold it there…
Continuing our day of pampering we later visited the “100
Egg Mud Bath”. It is a four part experience which starts with a “Rainforest”
shower, this is the first time in months I’ve had a warm shower so I make good
use of it. Next we walked up a flight of stairs and along a walkway of egg
shaped pods, think the scene in The Matrix when Neo is reborn. The egg is then
half filled with warm mud into which you climb, you spend about twenty minutes
in the egg until you are suitable coated, it was a bizarre feeling at first but
enjoyable nonetheless. Once your twenty minutes are up you make your way to the
sun platform, where you stand until all the mud has dried and then return to a
series of Rainforest showers and waters jets until you’re clean. The experience
in the egg is surreal, you get a strange endorphin rush and everything feels
new, I was actually struggling to walk, not through pain or anything just
simply felt like I’d never used my legs before, again think Neo in The Matrix.
The grounds surrounding the egg pods were set against
rolling hills and fauna of every colour, it was a mini paradise tucked just
outside of the town. After the mud experience you are invited to use their
pools and jacuzzi, the latter of which was hotter than any bath I’d ever had.
Once you are suitably wrinkly your entry fee also entitles you to a meal in the restaurant, it claims to serve eggs, 100 different ways but our menu only
offered Egg Fried Rice, so that’s what we had, it was distinctly average even
the half bottle of chili sauce didn’t make it exciting but we didn’t come here
for the food.
Looking at a map it shows there is even more to this site
than just the spa so we get dressed and take a wonder, maybe it is the day or
the time but the rest of the site was dead, like it had closed for the season,
there were no people, nothing was open the only stimulus was the recorded
sounds of birds playing from a distorted speaker dangling from a building. It
was creepy but I was intrigued by the view from the hilltop so wanted to keep
going. The walk only got stranger when we walked past a family of deer, in a
manmade valley above which were empty chalets, opposite them was a row of small
cages with monkeys in them and some with exotic birds. There was no sign of any
human activity and there was no telling how long the monkeys had been left in
the cages. It was pretty disturbing.
The walkway guiding to the hilltop disappeared and fencing
started to block the way so we decided to give up on that and make our way out
of this odd place. We flagged a taxi and headed back to the town.
It was my mums birthday and later that evening my sisters
FaceTimed me, I thought to talk to their big bro for the first time in months
but really they just wanted to rub it in that they were having a Roast dinner.
They laid me a place at the table, positioned the iPad behind and then
proceeded to eat the portion they had made up for me. It was torture but
speaking to them, mum and my grandparents was a lovely way to end the day.
MUI NE
We travelled to Mui Ne via bus, an 11 seater minibus picked
us up from the hotel and then drove around the town picking people up until the
bus had 14 people plus luggage crammed inside. The journey to Mui Ne was six
hours and not one person folded into this metal box looked impressed about it.
With a sigh of relief the minibus pulled up alongside a normal bus after about
ten minutes. Everyone spilled out and onto the sleeper bus. The bus was an
awesome way to travel, I was on a top bunk bed, had a load of leg room, air-con
and a TV, the six hours flew by. Out of the window the scenery was constantly
changing, it was one of the most beautiful landscapes of the trip, certainly
through Vietnam.
We picked a gem of a hotel, Mui Ne Hill 2. It was a budget
hotel, which resembled a road side Motel in America, there was a small swimming
pool which was about six feet deep at both ends and full of plantlife. The room
was nice enough, but the perk of the place was that we had full access to all
the ameneties of Mui Ne Hill 1, a luxury hotel set higher up in the sand dunes,
sweeping vistas of the sea and a monster of a pool, insanely good food and
amazing staff. We were paying £12 a night for our room but living the same life
as those who were paying £40+ a night. The breakfast, aside from the buffet we
had in Rai Leh, Thailand was the best of the trip. They played seriously good
music all day long and had a happy hour that started at 11am and continued on
into the evening.
We left the soft sun beds, ice cold drinks and clear waters
of the pool to see what else Mui Ne had to offer. The first stop was the beach,
this was hands down the most disappointing beach, not only of the trip but of
my life. All the hotels along the front have made it almost impossible to gain
entry to it, despite none of them actually owning the beach they have barriers
and guards in place to stop peasants like us wandering through. There is a small
alleyway between two hotels which is considered the public walkway, it is piled
high with rotting litter and stray animals, from plastic bottles to needles it
down here. Dancing over smashed glass, animal waste and overturned bins you
arrive onto a beach which isn’t much better. The sand is littered with empty
packaging and miscellaneous items of clothing, we watched a dog take a shit on
the sand and the owner just kicked some sand over it and walked off. The water
wasn’t swimmable because of the high waves so after less than five minutes we
vowed never to return.
Mui Ne is apparently known for its Kite Surfing and Wind
Surfing and so I thought the town would be full of “surfer dudes”, cool shack
restaurants, decent music and generally a laid back atmosphere but it really wasn’t.
It was a one horse town, the only thing to do was the beach but that was
consistently revolting the whole way so lord knows what you’d do if you had
booked this as your holiday. There are a string of restaurants and bars but
nothing exciting.
We ate at a seafood restaurant because the shrimp fiend was
getting withdrawal symptoms, their menu offered some variations of traditional
seafood with delights such as cobra, salamander, turtle and shark. None of
these grabbed me instead I asked for the BBQ’d crocodile, they didn’t have any
so I just had a fish curry. On our way back to the room we walked past at least
four restaurants that were cooking whole crocodiles on their BBQs, the
regularity of these dinosaurs on menus was another reason to stay away from the
beach.
About an hours drive from the town are a series of sand
dunes, known as the white dunes and the red dunes and a third point of interest
called The Fairy Stream. With little else to do here aside from lounge by a
pool and get steadily more drunk we booked ourselves onto the sunrise tour. We
had booked it for two days time to coincide with our bus to Saigon, so the day
would go as follows, wake up at 4am, see the three landmarks, have breakfast,
catch the bus to Saigon.
The following day, a day earlier than our booking we got a
knock on the window of our room, it was just after 4am and the hotel security guard
was outside. He told us the tour was waiting for us outside, we explained we hadn’t
booked it for today and he left, enough time past to fall asleep again before
another round of knock on the glass, this time it was the driver asking why we didn’t
want to go, before he himself realised he had the wrong day. He apologised and disappeared
into the darkness of the night.
The day morning we were ready for them, up and out and
waiting for the jeep. We drove around and picked up two more couples and then
started our journey to the White Dunes. About forty minutes in the jeep made a
nasty clunking noise, the engine cut out and it veered off the road, onto the
sand and stopped. The driver pulled and tugged at things in the engine but the
jeep was having none of it. Other jeeps with tourists in them just drove past,
some slowed down and took photos but nothing of any use. The driver was
constantly on the phone but as the sun started to rise we knew the whole
sunrise over the dunes wasn’t going to happen.
A few more jeeps bolted past and then finally one stopped, reversed
and offered us a tow. They precariously tied a piece of fraying rope between
the two jeeps and off we went. We left the road and started travelling across
the rocky path towards the dunes, an empty jeep offered to take us the rest of
the way so we jumped in and set off leaving the group in the first jeep who
were still tied to our broken jeep.
The sun was moments away from rising, we quickly made our
way out across the hot sand, climbing the high dunes looking for a good spot to
snap the sunrise. We plonked ourselves down just as the rays started to break
out from behind a cloud, reflecting off the shimmering sand and a lake it
looked incredible. We enjoyed the sunrise and then had time to muck about on
the dunes, sliding down them, struggling to climb back up. The White Dunes were
impressive and timing it with the sunrise added a lot to the experience. We
moved into our third jeep of the morning and drove on to the Red Dunes. These
weren’t half as impressive, much more touristy and there were loads of hawkers
trying to sell you stuff, we only spent about twenty minutes here but I’d had
my fill after about five.
On our way to the Fairy Stream we detour to a Fishing
Village and watch all the boats bringing in the mornings catch, it’s not quite
the “million” boats that the tour operator said but still it’s quite energetic
and enjoyable to watch. The last stop of the tour is the Fairy Stream, the
driver walks us down a narrow woodland path and points down to a murky stream
and then points to the right. We step down into the stream which is a deep
reddish brown colour about ankle deep, it’s pretty uninspiring and the waft of
cow poo coming from the hot water makes everyone look a little puzzled. You
follow the stream for about five minutes and then suddenly the landscape opens
up, to the left are gigantic red cliffs, it looks like the canyons in Utah,
used in 127 hours but when you climb them it quickly becomes apparent these are
made from sand. To the right luscious green vegetation, towering trees and
bushes, less than ten feet from each other, divided only by a thin stream are
two opposing landscapes. I climb the sandy rock faces and get rewarded with magnificent
views, the Fairy Stream is certainly the highlight of Mui Ne.
We grab a quick breakfast, check out of the room and head
for the bus. The journey to Saigon takes about six hours and is uneventful.
SAIGON
We’d booked two nights in Saigon but walking to the hotel from
the bus stop we instantly wished we’d spent less time in Hanoi, Hue or even
Denang and instead bumped up our stay here. Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City as it’s
also known is a considerably more enjoyable place to visit, it’s more inviting
than the capital and we waste no time in exploring it streets.
The main tourist thing we achieved in our brief visit to the
city was the War Remnants Museum. It offers a stark reality of the crimes committed
during both Indochina wars. It concentrates more heavily on the second war aka
The American War or as it’s more commonly known, the Vietnam War. The entrance
to the museum houses helicopters, bomber planes, tanks even some unexploded
ordinance (with their fuses removed) but the atrocities really unfold once
inside the building. It is a heavily graphic documentation of the war, there
are a number of exhibitions donated to the museum by families of photo journalists
who were in the war. Giving you a real insiders perspective of day to day life.
The museum doesn’t have any examples of the North Vietnamese or Viet Congs involvement,
instead it concentrates heavily on the devastation caused by Southern Vietnam
and their allies, America. Although this makes you suspicious and sense the biased
nature of the museum there is no escaping the horror that America caused. Haunting
images of entire towns being burnt to the ground, women and children lay dead,
often naked on the ground whilst American soldiers pose, smiling. The crimes committed
throughout the war are sickening and nowhere displays this more heavily than
the Agent Orange section of the museum. Rows of graphic photos of peoples mutated
bodies, some as a result of being present at the time of the chemicals being
dropped, others are of children born one, two or even three generations on.
Long after American pulled out their forces, Vietnam is still feeling the effects
of the war. American soldiers who were exposed to the chemicals also fathered
children with deformities, the big difference however is that these soldiers sued
the chemical company and were compensated heavily, the Vietnamese on the hand
were refused any compensation. Beyond the photos are actual foetuses in jars of
stillborn children, who died as a result of exposure to the chemicals dropped
on the country.
It is, if you can imagine, done tastefully, it’s not
designed to deliberately shock but it doesn’t mollycoddle you either. The museum
is educational and although enjoyable probably isn’t the ride word it was definitely
worth visiting, just don’t expect to get much else done that day.
Our time in Saigon is over before it’s begun but it’s a joy
to actually leave somewhere in Vietnam wanting to come back as opposed to
wishing the time away to leave. From the negative start in Hanoi it was hard to
get going in Vietnam but as we travelled South it delivered some brilliant
experiences and although it’s not my favourite country I am definitely glad I’ve
travelled through.
We caught an early bus to Phnom Penh in Cambodia but for
that story you’ll just have to wait.
As always thanks for reading.
