Vietnam

August 2000

My last fond memory of Cambodia was walking by the Mekong River in Phnom Penh and seeing an male amputee lying fast asleep on the sidewalk with his unstrapped artificial leg next to him. Our guesthouse had a tourist bus running to Saigon, Vietnam for $6. The road was acceptable. In the middle of paddy fields, we were invited to "make a river" (i.e. have a pee). At the Mekong River, we stopped to wait for a ferry to take us across. Women and children flooded us, offering cold drinks, snacks and fruit that was an early taste of the reception in Vietnam.

We walked across the dusty, dingy border crossing. Lots of paperwork to enter Vietnam and a predicable 'fee' after inspecting our international health sheet, which we brushed off (once you get the entry stamp what are they going to do?) despite every other tourist on our bus paying it. The customs liked looking through everyone's backpack, but after smelling my unwashed laundry, drew a close to the proceedings and waved everyone on. On day 255, we had entered the 13th country on the trip. Unlucky for some?

We were greeted on the other side, with our connecting bus run by SaigonTours - a tourist agency run by the Government. He gave us the selling spiel about available tours once we reached Saigon. This would also become a familiar scenario in Vietnam. The scenery remained the same - paddy fields, but the road was surfaced and we motored along for 2 hours to reach Saigon. The locals all wore white conical hats and black tunics.

Vietnam is a country that has spent centuries at war with invaders. They spent 1000 years trying to keep China at bay, 100 years tolerating the French and 15 years wearing down the US. Losing battles at whatever cost did not matter as long as they won in the end. These people are indestructible. This incredibly resilient nation of 75 million people, has now emerged from its shadows (and the reputation of the Hollywood 'Nam movies) and reinvented its old style Communist system as 'Doi Moi' (free enterprise) to encourage tourism. There are signs up everywhere with the mantra 'Vietnam - Destination for the New Millennium'.

I was expecting to encounter a shell-shocked resentment of the west. But instead I found a welcome reception (we want your money - now!). There is certainly a vitality and optimism to this nation, ready to move on and forget the past. I suppose it makes a change to meet a westerner that doesn't want to drop bombs on them.

Dropped in downtown Saigon (or Ho Chi Minh City as it is now officially called but the locals can’t be arsed with such a long name), we wandered around and were invited into a family house in the back alleys. We secured a lovely $5 attic room with hot water and complete silence for 5 nights from the two million mopeds in a seven million population. Many Vietnamese houses/hotels are only 12m wide by law. So they rise up with numerous floors and stretch far out in the back. They looked tiny from the front but were spacious inside.

Downtown Saigon was a tourist Mecca - ATMs, restaurants, pirated paperback books and Internet cafes. The Communist Govt had originally tried to outlaw them, but foreign investors gave them an ultimatum. If they go, we go. Saigon was as westernised as Bangkok.

Vietnam has one of the best-named currencies in the world - the Dong. This allowed me to use such phrases as “give me a minute to get my Dong out" and “Show me your Dong!". Endless hours of amusement.

During the American-Vietnam war (1960-1975), Saigon was the capital of the Republic of South Vietnam, backed up with American finance and military support. For 15 years, the Americans clung on to a losing battle against Communist North Vietnam until it finally fell in April 1975 and the Americans got the hell out of there. Originally built by the French as part of their 'Indo China' empire, with wide boulevards and colonial edifices, it is now the economic stronghold of Vietnam trying to catch up with the other 'Tiger' economies.

We got bombarded with offers of 'cyclo/moto drivers' (bicycle rickshaws and mopeds), but despite the horrendous traffic, found it an enjoyable place to explore. Many of the 'moto drivers' are educated southern Vietnamese who, as US sympathisers, got interned in prison camps by the new Communist Government and once released, were blacklisted from the decent jobs.

Crossing the road takes some practise. The mopeds come at you from every direction (road discipline sadly lacking). The only way to cross a road is to start walking and keep walking. The traffic will weave around you. Only if you stop do they get confused. So we got used to crossing roads with 200 mopeds rapidly heading our way. Everyone wore scarves around their faces to keep the dust out. It looked like a town of Oriental bandits.

Ben Tranh Market dominates the centre and the stall owners are hard sell people - grabbing your arm, dragging you in (the Vietnamese salesmanship method). Very pushy and uncomfortable. "Cheap price, cheap price" was the repeated chant. The Central Post Office was a marvellous French building (designed in the 1880s by the architect of the Eiffel Tower), with a nave-like foyer and huge portrait of Uncle Ho looking down at you.

The ostentatious, yellow and white striped hatbox Hotel De Ville (Old French Town Hall built in 1908) had a statue of (Uncle) Ho Chi Minh cradling a child in his arms out in front. Here we met some jolly English sailors who were on tour to try and flog their battleship. They were pessimistic since they were moored next to a much better looking and younger ship. ("We've been trying to sell this bastard since Gibraltar") They were gleaming white in their freshly starched white shirts, shorts and socks. "Where do you get your washing done?" I enviously asked in my dusty clothing. "Oh we have a couple of Gurkas aboard and they make a bloody fortune".

Across the road lay the Hotel Lex, famous for the "5 o'clock follies" where the international press dutifully congregated during the American-Vietnam war to get fed bullshit by the military putting on a brave face about body counts and success. The American Embassy, infamous for being overrun in the 1968 Tet Offensive and finally evacuated in April 1975 (remember the last chopper leaving the roof?) was pulled down two years ago.

We had a tour of the 'Reunification Palace' (formerly Presidential Palace) "a whitewashed concrete edifice with all the charm of a municipal library"(Rough Guide). Built in 1966 and left unchanged from its working days in 1975, the interior was a veritable time capsule of bad Sixties and Seventies kitsch. We were guided past banqueting rooms, conference halls, reception areas - "like straying into the arch-criminal's lair in a James Bond movie" (RG)(“so we meet again Mr Bond!"). The basement kitchens looked like my old school kitchens from the 1960s. The 'entertainment lounge' had some truly awful decor including a tacky cream/mauve circular sofa and a barrel shaped bar (remember those?). An old Huey helicopter sat on the roof. There were a couple of "look what we did to the French and Americans" propaganda movies with triumphant communist military music and victorious peasants singing/ marching. It was a great place to visit.

At the 'War Crimes Museum', the mood was more sober. A distressing compendium of the horrors of war which pulled no punches and gave the US what for in the propaganda stakes. A range of military hardware was packed into the courtyard. Inside, endless photos documenting the war. One gruesome photo had a smiling US soldier holding up the remains of a blown up Vietcong soldier - only his head and arms were attached. There were also the results of 75 million litres of defoliant sprays which the US used to flush out the VC in the jungles. This included two pickling jars with hideously malformed foetuses preserved inside - a baby with 2 heads. Not surprisingly, the American tourists walked around looking very sheepish.

We visited the district of Cholon - with its rich varied market - streets full of chickens, ducks and geese for sale. They were often brought in by moped, dozens of them hanging off the handlebars and racks with their legs tied together - clucking away. Up the road, we attempted to watch the horse racing (also formerly outlawed by the Govt). No one could tell us when it started, and when we turned up, it was just in time for the last race around a dusty track with the watching punters stuck behind wire fences (erected to stop them throwing stones at the horses to put them off). So I never made a killing at the races. The highest permissible bet was $3.

I had my haircut (Hoc Tok) on a sidewalk in Saigon. Just a chair and a mirror under a canopy as the traffic roared past. The barber wore a face scarf. I thought he was going to operate! Instead, he gave me a very presentable Vietnam cut (i.e. removed half my hair) and was then given the full treatment of having my eyebrows trimmed, nose hair clipped, my ears and forehead shaved! (never had that done before) and a comprehensive ear cleaning session where metal clips were inserted in my ears with a tissue, liquid poured in and a lot of rummaging around. The price for all these assorted services was a whopping 50p!

Ironically, I came down with blocked sinuses which left me partially deaf for days. The Vietnamese all sounded like Daleks (from the 'Dr Who' TV series) - strange guttural noises ('Exterminate! Exterminate!). Stranger still, was that when my hearing finally cleared, they actually did sound like Daleks when they sang in their Karaoke bars.

Vietnam does have great street beer stalls called 'Bia Hoi'. Here they serve 2 litres of local beer in plastic jugs which is poured over chunks of ice in your glass. In Saigon it was 35p (local rate - not the Yankee imperialist pig-dog rate). Best value in town. Here you met your average Vietnam male - everyone from all walks of life sit around, toast each other and catch up on the gossip under the dim streetlights. These people work hard and drink hard. We lived off 15p baguettes on the streets - stuffed with meat and salad. Also 25p noodle soups with pork, beef, duck at the markets. The food was very cheap so we tended to overeat. It also meant we could try anything without worrying about cost.

The Vietnamese have their tourist industry in place, but like the English Labour Government, there is more presentation than content. The Communist Government has allowed bus-touring companies to spring up offering competitive prices while also forcing local buses to charge 5x the local rate, so that the tour buses become the cheapest option. This ensures that all tourists in Vietnam follow the same itineraries and stay in the same towns. While Jo enjoyed the luxury of air-con buses and getting picked up and dropped at hotels, it took the edge off travelling for me. It was boring to have everything done for you, and ultimately most tedious to have to travel with busloads of westerners rather than the chaotic overcrowded buses which are a real experience. The other strange sight were of the thousands of Vietnamese on holiday around the country themselves. Busloads of them all doing the same sights as us.

But Vietnam has one problem. It doesn't have any truly stunning sights and the planned excursions which offer plenty, were, according to the endless complaints we heard from tourists, empty experiences of getting shuttled around to predicable places of nothing special. Grab the money and run! Consequently, we did a few cheap trips which turned out to be excellent value, but only did a fraction of what was on offer.

A $4 day excursion took us out of Saigon to visit two memorable sights. Our 'guide', Tran Sanh, was an ex South Vietnam airforce worker with the US forces, but when they lost, he was interned for a year and jobless for 10 years. Tourism has allowed him to relearn the English he once spoke fluently. He was an excellent source of info and tit bits about the war. While the other tourists yawned and slept, I had plenty of questions. On the way, we passed through the hamlet of Trang Bang where the famous photo war photo was taken of the 9 year old girl running down the road on fire.

An English tourist told me one cracker from an American tourist on the De-Militarised Zone tour in the north. On the trip they visited the Ho Chi Minh Trail on the Laos border. When he heard about the trail he yelled "Well if they were shipping their stuff via Laos why didn't we bomb Laos?" Doh! Ever heard of Richard Nixon? He also asked if the Ho Chi Minh trail was so-named because Uncle Ho became the first person to walk it. Doh!

Our first sight was the biggest Cao Dai Cathedral in Vietnam. This is a weird religious cult that sprang up in the 1920s after a civil servant was apparently visited by a superior spirit during a seance that communicated the basics of Cao Dai ('high place') creed. The Divine Eye (as seen on American Dollar bills) was adapted as the tangible representation of its existence. Basically it said that religious intolerance had been the downfall of mankind. Through a fusion of Oriental and Occidental religions and the concept of a Universal god, it is primarily entrenched in Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism, to which elements of Christianity, Mohammedanism and spirituality are added (did they miss anyone?). The members follow 5 commandments - they must avoid: killing living beings, high living, covetousness, verbal deceit and temptations of the flesh. They also believe in reincarnation. With 2 million converts it has become a major political force in Vietnam.

"The jury is still out on whether the ostentatious temple constitutes high art or a dog's dinner" (RG). Either way, it is one of Vietnam's most arresting sights. The cult likes bright primary colours, dragons and snakes. The Cathedral was a cross between Walt Disney meets colour-blind Mexican artists on acid. Outside, with a huge Divine eye staring down from between the two towers, the walls were Day-Glo blues and pinks. Inside, the interior was very lavish with huge pink pillars entwined with green dragons. Swallows built their nests in the mouldings of lions and turtles under the sky blue ceiling.

We were there to watch the midday ceremony. A traditional band played in the devotees who were mostly dressed in white robes, though a few wore yellow, blue and red. They all wore squared hats emblazoned with the Divine Eye (they looked like happy hats from McDonalds). They knelt and bent over, heads nodding in unison while a gong clanged behind them. It was a dreary ceremony (they have to do it at 6am, noon ,6pm, midnight (not my idea of fun) but a colourful spectacle. Another of life's interesting sights. After the service, still in their robes, they climbed aboard their bicycles and peddled off home.

The second sight was the Cu Chi Tunnels about 40km northwest of Saigon. During the American War, the Vietcong needed a base for all supplies coming down the Ho Chi Minh trail and dug an intricate tunnel system about 200 km in length. There were three levels of tunnels (6m, 12m and 18m below the surface), with gruesome booby-traps of spikes to catch out any enemy infiltration. The Americans tried to bomb them, but they were continually repaired and replaced and very difficult to trace. The tunnels were very narrow and we had a chance to experience them.

We were given the task of finding an original tunnel entrance. This turned out to be a small hole with a lid about 18" by 12". I was invited to lower myself in and managed to squeeze in and pull myself out. Jo got in, but couldn't get out. I had to pull her out with my arms around her chest. A poor female Australian tourist with a larger behind took ages to wriggle her bum around and finally it took 2 of us to pull her out.

Some of the tunnels have been enlarged so fat western tourists can go underground. The first, a metre high and 150m in length, was big enough to get by squatting down , but the second set which were the original size could only be used by crawling on your hands and knees. We all reappeared on the surface sweaty and grubby. Great fun for us, but not for the people who spent months down there in total darkness and became temporarily blind from the ordeal. It was another example of Vietnamese grit and determination.

Having seen enough paddy fields in Cambodia to last us a lifetime, we skipped the excursion to the Mekong Delta. We bought a $32 open bus pass that would allow us to get to Hanoi 1855km in the north and stop at all the major tourist places in between the impressive landscape.

Vietnam occupies a narrow strip of land that hugs the eastern borders of Cambodia and Laos, hemmed in by rugged mountains to the west and the South China Sea to the east. It is an undeniably beautiful country -rolling mountains of forests, paddy fields and exceptional beaches.

The weather in Saigon had been hot and muggy and there were plenty of rainstorms. For the rest of stay, we had excellent weather. Soaring temperatures, however, of 37'C with 85% humidity tended to leave you flagging and heading for a Bia Hoi stall.

Da Lat was our first stop. We passed through the southern and central highland areas that contained lofty peaks, and fertile red soil yielding coffee, tea, rubber and mulberry plantations. We stopped at one to watch the workers in their distinctive white conical peaked hats and black tunics picking tealeaves. On La Nga Lake I saw people rowing boats with their feet! They just sat back, clawed their feet around the oars and pumped their legs for all they were worth. It looked easier than the normal way.

Da Lat nestles at 1500m above sea level and is Vietnam’s premier hill station (established by the French as a holiday resort). Based around a lovely lake, (with tacky shaped swan paddling boats) and surrounded by forested hills it was quite pleasant. There were shops here called ‘My Dung'and my personal favourite ‘Hung Long' (honestly!). The nearly dormant 1938 train station was a fine building. Beneath gently contoured red-tiled roof were slender multicoloured Art Deco windows. Inside the waiting room were 4 leather bound couches. So comfortable that we actually dropped off for an hour.

Bao Dai was the last Vietnamese Emperor who abdicated in 1945 when Vietnam gained independence of a sort and the Communists took over the north. He had his ‘Summer Palace' in Da Lat. Another open planned time capsule from the 1930s with its 26 working rooms, reception rooms, “distraction rooms” and restrooms, plus all the original furniture. The King’s workroom contained the ‘imperial' crash helmet for his motorbike rides. The Vietnamese tourists jumped on the beds, tinkled on the Queen’s piano and ran around screaming. In England we would be walking quietly walking behind ropes keeping us away from the artefacts.

Up the road, we visited Vien Thuc at the Lam Ty Ni Pagoda - the ‘Mad Monk' of Da Lat. This Buddhist monk is a poet, artist, gardener and builder whose paintings are spreading around the world (if you believed his press clippings). A small man, clothed in a basic rough brown robe with a hood that made him look like a dwarf ‘Grim Reaper’ welcomed us in to his studio where 85,000 canvases of abstract watercolours lay in piles. He has lived alone here since 1989 but a few tourists seem to find their way here. It was lovely and peaceful in his shady garden as he demonstrated the art of “running" - drawing Chinese characters down a vertical strip of paper to write a poem. The one he did for us read “The stream flows nearby and the breeze blows past, but the mind remains calm" It took him 15 seconds to do it and he tried to charge us $5. He was an interesting character but worldly wise to the money available from tourists.

We rented a 110cc scooter for the day ($5) to visit the nearby surrounding hills. It was lovely to get off the main roads and tootle along the unsurfaced roads with little traffic through quiet hamlets, wooden shacks and wonderful views of the forests. Loud choruses of insects could be heard everywhere. We visited “Chicken Village" which had a large 5 metre cement cockerel in its centre - its mouth open as in mid squawk - maybe to ensure a good harvest. It was an example of a nothing place doing something to attract tourists passing by (World’s Biggest Cock? - the in-the-middle-of-nowhere Australian hamlets do the same -World’s Biggest trout, lobster)

There was a torrential monsoon downpour that lasted an hour and flooded the roads. We sheltered until it passed over. Prenn Pass had a lovely waterfall which thundered over a wide overhang and we were able to walk behind it with the spray in our faces.

The local buses were all imported. Vietnamese mentality is to make money, so they had the seating rearranged to crowd in extra passengers. Bus engines started to overheat with the extra weight. So they had metal tanks welded to the roof to hold water to cool the engine. The only problem is that the hot water comes out of an escape pipe at the side of the bus. Scalding water burns anyone standing close to a passing bus. This happened to us when a bus passed us on our moped. We covered 200km on the scooter and survived even having done a spell of moto-cross on it.

We moved onto Nha Trang on the coast. To reach it, we crossed the scenic Ngoan Pass which looked like the European Alps - forests everywhere, without the snow. These tour buses have set itineraries where you stop at certain places on the route to do some of the sights. After the pass, we stopped at the Po Klong Garai towers. In the 14th Century, central Vietnam was ruled by the Hindu influenced Champa (Cham) kingdom. Not much remains of their empire and this was one example. On a hill stood a reconstructed 25m red brick sanctuary/temple, and a repository with a boat shaped roof. Like I said, some of these sights ain’t breathtaking.

Nha Trang’s great location by the South China Sea has helped it become one of Vietnam’s premier seaside resorts. The big difference is that the Vietnamese tourists get up at 4am to go to the beach when it is cool. They jog, do their exercises, and swim while the sun rises with spectacular scarlet colours. Then about 10am they all disappear for the day to their rooms and come back out at about 5pm until sunset. These people would give the German tourists with their early morning beach chair grabbing towel tactics, a run for their money. It was a lovely-relaxed place with wide avenues by the promenade. The ice cream sellers were a bit of a pain. They walked along the street, pushing their trolley with a 4-chord tune (like that from the movie "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"). Because we walked at the same pace, this monotone tune followed us for miles and drove me nuts.

As in Da Lat, we were taken to a hotel by the tour company rep. They have it all sewn up. You do not have to stay at the hotel, but many do for the sheer convenience of not having to look around. We usually took a look round in every place and often found better places at cheaper prices. ($6-10 was a good average for ensuite double room with a fan). We found a hotel across the road from the beach that had the strangest menu I had seen. Here are a few of the delights:

Swimming bladder soup, goat’s blood wine, goat’s penis wine(?), goat’s penis and breast cooked with oriental medicine in bowl, marrow and brain’s goat (seems to be bad news to be a goat in this town!), hand snail steam, fried snakehead, snakehead steamed with ginger, frog fried with butter, frog steamed with soya cheese, pigeon braised with lotus and mushroom deposit (eh?), Grilled salamander, jellyfish mixed with pork and shrimp. I was really tempted to try the goat’s penis wine. All in the best possible taste!

The best thing about Nha Trang are the boat trip excursions that last the whole day. I had been told about them and ours lived up to expectation. For $7 you get a full day on a boat visiting islands, a huge seafood spread for lunch and then all the wine you can drink in the afternoon. Big mistake! We met a couple of amicable Aussies - Henry and Murray in the minibus and were to have a scream together. We boarded our rickety old wooden boat with about 8 western tourists and 8 Vietnamese tourists. The activities were organised by our guide Loc, a happy Vietnamese lad. We motored out to Mun Island in blazing sunshine. Around this scrub-covered hill, I did some snorkelling for an hour. The coral was disappointing, the fish few and far between but there were some huge blue starfish. It was good fun diving off the boat into the warm water.

At the second island of Mot, we pulled in for lunch, prepared by some women on the boat. It was superb - fish in tomato sauce, shrimps, seafood nibbles, beef, noodles, rice, and salad. Afterwards the Mulberry wine (16%!) was served. To get it, you had to jump off the boat with a lifebelt and sit in it, while drinking from a floating platform tied off the boat. There were few takers so the Aussies, Loc and me had a fine time. Such a good time that I have few recollections about the rest of the afternoon. There were unconfirmed reports from Jo about us dive-bombing children in their bamboo coracles and yells of “Ho Chi Minh Number 1!". Whatever. It was a great day. But my sinuses suffered a relapse from the diving and I was partially deaf for another week.

We were up waiting for the bus at 5.45am the next day for the long 12 hour slog of 530km to Hoi An. The buses are supposed to operate to a timetable, but they rarely do. Every bus always left an hour late. They always stuck a driver on board who spoke no English so he couldn’t understand any complaints (like not stopping for 5 hours so everyone’s bladders were bursting). We had bad and good news today. Instead of the promised large a/c bus, a minibus turned up and everyone suffered lack of leg room for the long journey (except us who bagged the best seats) and a lot of whining tourists.

The good news was that there was an accident on a hill where two trucks had crashed into each other and blocked the road. Trucks and buses were backed up down the hills on either side, while the drivers waited for the arrival of the police. Our driver managed to pass by all the trucks and squeeze his way past the accident, leaving the competing bus companies (with the promised large a/c bus provided), sitting there for hours waiting to get through. The tourists on our minibus stopped whining after that. Our driver had a feeble horn but used it whenever possible (people, bicycles, dogs, pigs etc). When I looked closely, I realised he was even tooting at rocks - there wasn’t a car/bicycle in sight.

We passed by the infamous hamlet of Son My where, early one morning, in 1968, American marines entered one morning and killed everyone in sight - 500 deaths which were covered up, then discovered and provided more American disillusionment with the war. Inevitably Dick Nixon pardoned everyone as soon as he got into office.

Hoi An was once a bustling 16th Century port with Chinese, Japanese and European traders but is now a fully-fledged tourist town full of souvenir shops and prices to match. When we rolled in on a Saturday night, the entire town was booked solid. After much searching, we found the last room in a hotel for an overpriced $15. There were some fine 18th century trader mansions in the narrow streets of the old town and a few colourful pagodas.

The Japanese covered bridge was erected in the 16th century after Japan suffered violent earthquakes and the geomancers attributed them to a restless monster lying with its head in India, tail in Japan and heart in Hoi An. The stone piles of the bridge drove a metaphysical sword through the beast’s heart.

We got a $2 excursion out to Vietnam’s most evocative Cham site in a bowl of lushly wooded hills towered over by the Cat’s Tooth Mountain. “A faded majesty hangs over its mouldering ruins enhanced by the vegetation rioting over the extant towers"(RG). The remains date from the 7th -13th century where the Cham kings were buried. This holy place was considered the domain of the gods and the setting was certainly wonderful. The ruins were ok but nothing special. It was baking hot and tour groups arrived and departed. There were battles here between the US and the Vietcong and the ruins had bullet holes in the masonry and warnings about “unexploded mines" off the beaten track.

When you enter Vietnam, you are issued with an Arrival/Departure slip which is handed over to every hotel you stay in. It is then taken by the hotel to record your stay with the police. You get the form back when you leave. Failure to produce the slip when you leave Vietnam results in a $50 fine. When we left our hotel in Hoi An, 30 minutes before the bus left for Hue, the male receptionist could not find our slip in the plastic pouch allocated to the room. Rather than search the draw, he accused us of leaving it in the hotel in Nha Trang. He insisted on calling that hotel. That receptionist then accused us of not staying there. Finally we forced the draw open, searched the pouches and found our slips in a different pouch. There was no apology. A nasty situation ensued with a houseboy chasing me down the corridor when I went to get my pack, with him threatening kung fu (“piss off short-arse!").

One concept you soon learn in Vietnam is “The customer is always wrong" It’s your fault. The bus was late because it was your fault that you waited an hour for it to turn up. Its your fault that the a/c or water doesn’t work etc. They hate to lose face but they did on this occasion and they were not happy. This is one reason why Vietnam is not popular with tourists. You work around them.

Inevitably the bus was late and consequently the 90min promised stop at the Marble Mountains turned out to be 30 mins. We rushed up and down the stairway to see Vietnam’s most southerly limestone outcrops around 100m high. Swamped in useless souvenir shops selling marble carvings (like we need the extra weight?), the place was crawling with Vietnamese tour groups. Historically, Cham people came here to worship their Hindu gods and then erected Buddhist alters in the caves. It developed into a pilgrimage site, but now seemed just a dull tourist stop. Marble was taken from here to build Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum in Hanoi. I was deliberately late back to the bus and the guide complained even though I pointed out that we were supposed to get 90 minutes here. “No time" he yelled. Yeah because your bus was late. “We not late. Tourists late!". These people were starting to get on our nerves.

We crossed over Hai Van Pass (Pass of the Ocean Clouds), about 1000m above sea level and one of the dramatic mountain spurs off the Truong Son range which cuts across Vietnam’s pinched central waist. Here, they were about to start constructing the first mountain tunnel in Vietnam. From the pass, we could see some fine stretches of beach. The coastline is full of them and they are completely undeveloped, but I predict that within 5 years, Vietnam will be offering beach holidays to rival Thailand’s popularity. We pulled into a small beach hamlet for lunch and I plunged into the lovely warm, clear blue South China Sea.

Positioned in the middle of the country, near the coast, Hue was Vietnam’s capital in the 19th century and still considers itself the cultural centre, boasting five universities. The city was full of wide boulevards which the French built. At the market, we ate soup and Jo fished out a long thin pink pig’s tail out of her bowl. At a local Bia Hoc bar, where we became regulars, we ordered something to eat. There were pickled snakes in a jar on the counter. Noone spoke English, so we made piggy noises. No pork. But he drew a picture of a bird in my diary. “Chien" he said (Chien is dog in French). Must be chicken. It was grilled pigeon with more bone than meat. Two little pigeon heads stared up from the plate with their scrawny necks attached. Large brown rats ran around our feet looking for scraps. Beer was delivered to these stalls by bicycle rickshaw. About 5 barrels were strapped to the seat and then lifted in. Huge chunks if ice are also delivered and smashed up to pour the beer over.

On a roasting day of 31’C, we did another $2 day boat trip (including a small lunch) up the Perfume River to see some of the Royal Mausoleums built by 18th-20th century Vietnamese Nguyen kings. Or rather didn’t. The admission charges were hiked up for the benefit of the tourists and to reach some, you had to rent a moto to get you there and back, so we didn’t bother and walked around at the stops which was free. Our rickety blue wooden boat was operated by an old lady who steered and ordered around the three small teenage girls who cast off, prepared lunch, served drinks etc. A real family operation.

We saw floating villages, and lots of river life including boats where someone dived down to the riverbed to fill a bucket with sand. Then 3 people on the boat sat and peddled a contraption to raise the bucket. When the boat was filled with sand/mud, they headed for shore.

We did visit Ming Mang’s Mausoleum which is reputedly the best. Ming Mang was a bit of a lad, fathering 142 children with his 33 wives and 107 concubines. When he could hear himself think he organised major building projects in Hue’s massive citadel. Court officials took 14 years to find the site but it only took 3 years to build in 1841 using 10,000 workmen.

The mausoleum’s stately grandeur was softened by 15 hectares of lovely landscaped gardens with lakes surrounding the complex. This consisted of 3 elements: a temple dedicated to the worship of the deceased Emperor and his Queen, a large stone stele recording his biographical details and the royal tomb itself. In the middle of the complex was an elegant two story rich red painted “Pavilion of Pure Light" standing among clouds of frangipani trees (symbols of longevity). It was a lovely site to visit.

On the way back, we stopped in at the Thien Mu Pagoda, dominated by an octagonal , seven tier brick stupa. This place became famous as a Buddhist centre of opposition to colonialism. In 1963, it became instantly famous when one of its monks, the Venerable Thich Quang Doc, drove to Saigon in his powder blue Austin car, poured petrol over himself and set light as a protest against President Diem’s regime. It was captured on film that went around the world. I wonder if he left enough gas in the tank to get it home, because it now sits at the pagoda with the famous picture on its windscreen. Other monks were to follow this example of self-immolation that shocked the world.

Hue’s vast Citadel is an UNESCO World Heritage site. It comprises of three concentric enclosures, ranged behind the prominent flag tower (now sporting a huge Vietnamese flag of bright red background with its unmissable yellow star in the middle). Within the Citadel’s massive 10km long, 7 metre high walls lay the Imperial City and within that the royal palaces of the 10 hectare Forbidden Purple City. Wars, fires, typhoons, floods and termites have all taken their toll, since it was built in 1805. It is gradually being reconstructed.

The Thai Hoa Palace (Palace of Supreme Harmony) was the most spectacular of the palaces, its interior glowing with sumptuous red and gold laquers where royal ceremonies took place. It was the only building in the Imperial City to escape damage but termites ravaged the throne room’s 80-ironwood pillars. In 1991 each of the 2 ton pillars were manually replaced and repainted with swirling dragons and clouds and then painted with 12 coats of lacquer. Each coat took a month to dry!

The ‘Pavilion of Everlasting Clarity' had the Nine Dynastic Urns outside - huge bronze urns cast during the reign of Ming Mang and ornamented with scenes of mountains, rivers, wildlife and a few bullet marks. We got a look at Ming Mang’s picture in the Mieu Temple which is used to worship all the Emperors. Each emperor had his own stand with his picture/photo. It was full of blood red lacquer work and gold paint - very spectacular. The Citadel is certainly an ‘unmissable' site in Vietnam.

To reach Hanoi we had an anticipated 16 hour 670km overnight bus trip from Hue leaving at 7pm. Through very bad luck and usual Vietnamese organisation, it took 20. The bus was 30 minutes late and then we spent another hour driving around Hue, failing to pick up passengers. An hour out of town, we got our first puncture which was repaired in an hour while we stood around the roadside comparing notes on Vietnamese bus journeys and watching a full golden moon ascending.

The roads in Vietnam up to this point were generally excellent, but they were rebuilding the section from Hue to Vinh and the road did not exist. A real bumpy ride across rocks and sand allowed no sleep (not that our seats reclined - that would have been too efficient). The air conditioning also did not work well and in the evening heat we all started wilting and opening the windows to get the cool night air, which drove the driver nuts. He kept stopping the bus, going around and closing them. As soon as he started again, we reopened them. At a rest stop, in a sulk, he told the cafe not to let us buy bottles of water. We wandered down the road at 2am and found someone who would. When I went to take a pee in a dark field, it turned out to be a paddy field and as I stepped forward, I plunged into the water waist deep (nice one Bob).

We drove all night and had a fabulous 5am-tequila sunrise with vivid reds, oranges and yellows flooding the horizon. “Good morning Vietnam!". It was the best sunrise I had seen since leaving England. About 8am, just outside Vinh, we got another puncture. The tyre that had replaced the first puncture had burst and there was no spare. The driver was forced to hitch into town and organise another type to be shipped out. Another 2 hour wait. By now we knew we were doomed. We rolled into Hanoi at 3pm completely shagged by the experience. Another bus journey from hell.

Hanoi (or “Gook Central" as we renamed it), with 1 million people, is the Communist capital of Vietnam and a poor relation to its cousin Saigon in the south. It was here that we discovered the Vietnam we had expected to find. We explored the Old Quarter for a hotel. It was full of mopeds charging around and non-stop offers of moto/bicycle rickshaw drivers. The people seemed very aggressive and looking to rip the tourists off, attempting to overcharge at every opportunity. We haggled a hotel down to $8 for a comfortable room without a/c.

Not everyone was bad. We discovered a street food stall popular with the locals and ordered the available soups and dishes which were delicious and very cheap. Around the corner from the hotel there was a ‘Bia Hoa' with a few men sat around a table. I was waved over to join them. For the next two hours I enjoyed the company of an off-duty policemen, a doctor, a teacher, a director and a cyclo rider. Noone spoke English, but somehow we communicated. I was not allowed to buy a drink. The policemen kept buying the beers yelling “Dau phung" (100%) and slinging them down. He then started buying us glasses of strong white rice whiskey as chasers. These were my downfall. I tottered back to the hotel room, ate some cream cakes (as you do) and was promptly sick as a dog.

Hanoi has some fine sights, but many tourists do not bother making the haul up north. It is the base for making excursions to Ha Long Bay and the far north, but we had had enough of Vietnamese tourism and stuck to the city. The wide-open spaces of Ba Dinh Square are the nation’s ceremonial epicentre. It was here that Uncle Ho Chi Minh read out the Declaration of Independence to 500,000 in September 1945. The National Assembly Hall, venue for the Communist Party Congresses stood on the square’s east side, while the west was dominated by the grey building of Uncle Ho’s Mausoleum. Explored on our first day, we found it closed, but we could walk up to it without any bother. Two sentries in immaculate white uniforms stood to attention outside. When it was open, it was a different ballgame.

It is only open about 3 days a week for 3 hours. On Saturday, it was open between 7.30 - 10.30am (nice sociable hours), and I made my way up there to find thousands of people lined up to make their visit. Soldiers blew whistles at people (including me) ordering us to walk in set directions. I had to check my camera into a kiosk and it was delivered to another kiosk on the other side to be picked up. The lines stretched back 4 deep for a kilometre. There was some kind of celebration going on today with Military VIPs laying wreaths. They got priority along with tour groups and were marched to the head of the line while I stood with the ordinary people, watching a military band of schoolchildren and shuffling along. It was actually well organised and I only had to wait 30 minutes to get to the entrance. I saw the changing of the guard as 3 soldiers goose stepped their way to relieve the sentries.

Inside the marble entrance hall, cold air conditioning blasted my face (well we wouldn’t want the body smelling in this heat would we?). Ho Chi Minh’s most quoted maxim greeted me “Nothing is more important than independence and freedom (and good air conditioning)". I actually prefer his “better to smell French shit for 5 years than Chinese shit for the rest of our lives" . Then it was up the stairs and into a cold dark room where the charismatic hero lies under glass - a small pale figure glowing in the dim light. Not that he wanted this when he died in 1969. He wanted to be cremated. The soldiers prodded us around so noone could stop. Old people prayed as they shuffled past. I had now seen Lenin’s body in Moscow, Chairman Mao in Beijing and Uncle Ho in Hanoi. I wonder if Castro will get the same treatment in Cuba when he dies?

The funniest thing about Vietnam is that there are billboards of Ho Chi Minh everywhere celebrating various anniversaries. He looks the spitting image of an oriental Colonel Sanders of the Kentucky Fried Chicken graphics. I think this is a clue to why America was defeated. He snuck into the US and started a crappy chicken franchise, which disillusioned American appetites, and they lost the taste for war. The CIA is obviously covering this up. I think we should be told.

At the impressive Army Museum there was the mangled wreckage of a B-52 bomber in the forecourt against a tree. The museum told the story of the struggle from 1945. A hall was devoted to the 1954 battle of Dien Bien Phu with a huge diorama and film footage on the backdrop of the unfolding battle when they kicked French butts back to Paris. There were another about the fall of Saigon in 1975 when the Americans got the same treatment. Lots of stuff from American pilots who had been shot down (uniforms, helmets etc), tons of photos, it was very informative. There was also a touching display about women’s role in the war.

We walked past the infamous “Hanoi Hilton", a French built prison, nicknamed by American POW’s in wry comment on its harsh conditions and often-brutal treatment. The jail became famous in the 1960s when American pilots were shown world-wide on televised propaganda campaigns. Little remains, but there were a list of rules outside. One read "No frollicking. Toilets fixed to the ground". I wonder what goes on in there? It is now a shopping centre.

The Temple of Literature is Hanoi’s most revered temple complex, both as Vietnam’s principal Confucian sanctuary and its historical centre of learning. It has been reconstructed many times since 1070 AD (as has most of Vietnam) and was the first university in the country to train Mandarin civil servants. Inside the ceremonial hall, a group of musicians played some recitals of traditional music on strange instruments (which was nice!). These included a vertical wooden xylophone that looked like a huge rib cage and a twangy instrument with one string, whose tone was lathered by bending what looked like a car aerial. Great sounds though. Among the inscriptions of Confucian sayings, I didn’t see the one about “Man with hole in pocket can feel cocky all day"

Hanoi provided us with our escape out of Vietnam. A visa from the Laos Embassy. It cost an astonishing $55 but was issued within one day from efficient staff. We were ready to leave. We had been bombarded by over 200 offers of rickshaws in one day and aggressive postcard sellers. It was India all over again.

Before I arrived, I had heard nothing but bad reports about Vietnam - aggressive people trying to rip you off, corrupt policemen and officials. When I asked what Vietnam was like, “ok" said in an offhand manner was the usual response. I think people came expecting a lot more but ultimately left disappointed and maybe they had watched too many ‘Nam movies and anticipated the dramatic rather than the predicable tourism. When we arrived in Saigon, we found a generally pleasant city. Then things started to deteriorate as we headed north. Hanoi had, finally, all those things which the bad reputation is based on. Even our hotel slapped a 10% tax on our bill (unmentioned when we asked the price) because “Hanoi is not as rich as other places". We had to pay it to get our blue slips back.

I awoke with a huge fan spinning above my head. Hanoi... shit. I'm still in Hanoi. We had to hang around all day waiting for a night bus. Our next quest was to try to leave the Vietnamese capital and hot-tail it to the Laos, capital of Vientiane within 24 hours. There are only two border crossings and they are both far south of Hanoi. To reach Laos, we would have a very protracted journey back down to Vinh.

We climbed aboard the 7pm bus (the same one as the previous bus ride from hell) and had our last opportunity to use essential Vietnamese expressions like chao (hello), cam on (thank you - pronounced Cooome On!) and Ho Chi Minh Big Zero (your bus air conditioning is still buggered). The tourist passengers inside resembled occupants of a sealed gas chamber, yet when everyone opened the windows to get some air, the bus driver would get nasty and run around yelling "A/c ok", shutting them again. When we set off again, we would reopen them. This went on ad nauseum until we were unceremoniously dumped in the middle of Vinh at 2.30am (and not at the bus stop for the Laos border bus as promised). Good night Vietnam!

Incidentally, an undercover informant has since told me that Ho Chi Minh did indeed flee to the USA to start up Kentucky Fried Chicken as Colonel Saunders because his "Uncle Ho's Hanoi grilled goat's penis" failed to take off. You are welcome to email me with what you think his Vietnamese motto for "It's finger licking good" was!.

Another English couple, Paul and Yvonne, disembarked with us. We were stranded in town until the local bus left at 5am miles down the road. So in true British spirit, we walked all of 20ft and found an all night Bia Hoc stall open. Whilst sipping beers at 3am (as you do), watching the street nightlife, we were approached by someone. When he heard we were heading for Laos, he said he had a friend with a minibus who could take us all the way to the border - about 3 hours away. It would cost $9 each which was fine, because when we finally found the local bus, it would probably charge the same (dual pricing!) and we would get dumped at the nearest border town and still have to get a tuk-tuk to the border post. This way, we chartered our own transport all the way and it came to us! Luxury.

It turned up at 4am as locals started to crowd our stall for their early morning noodle soup. As we left town, there was a scarlet sunrise and the road started to fill with locals peddling their produce to market. Pigs and piglets wandered across the road. On the river, there were small communities of houseboats. Forests dominated the hills which were shrouded in early morning mist. A beautiful sight. I felt as if I was finally seeing the real Vietnam and not the tourist brochure stuff.

We climbed up through the hills covered in thick rain forests. No wonder the USA military failed to keep tabs on the Vietcong near the Laos border. It was very thick and impentrable, having grown back rapidly after all the bombings. It was also the most spectacular scenery I seen in Vietnam.

At 7.30am , we arrived at a dreary border crossing. Lines of trucks waited to cross on both sides. We got our exit stamps and fobbed off the Vietnamese officials last attempt to extract some money. They did not get their $1admin charge for each passport as we retorted "where's the sign pal? No sign. No dollar. Bye bye".

But for sheer convenience, I’d recommend Vietnam as a holiday destination for people who want a comfortable 2-week stay at excellent prices. Just don’t expect to find anything special. Just a lot of people yelling “Cold drink Mister" at you. And avoid Kim Cafe open bus tickets like the plague!

Costs in Vietnam for 18 days (in British Pounds Sterling)

Travel - £49
Accommodation - £37.53
Food - £38.19
Other - £78.24 (including $55 Laos Visa)
Total - £202.96

Grand Total - £4244.96