Coming Home

It is hard to believe that this is my last evening in Vietnam and that tomorrow morning I will be leaving steamy noisy Saigon for the last time.  After being away for 3 ½ months in two days’ time I will be home.  Here are some of the many things I’ve learned over the course of my trip to Indochina.

1.       Always take a spare inner tube and some tyre levers when you are motor-biking somewhere remote. 

2.       The Vietnamese people are generally incredibly friendly and helpful, provided you are prepared to smile and engage and behave respectfully. 

3.       Two very useful hand signs.  When a Vietnamese person sticks their hand out to you, palm down, and flaps their fingers it only looks as if they are waving you goodbye.  In fact they are saying ‘come here’.  Yes, very confusing.  The other gesture is even more useful to know and was taught to me by a nice chap from Hong Kong on the bus from Saigon airport the very first day I arrived in Vietnam.  If you splay your fingers out and wiggle your hand (i.e. thumb and little finger in opposite directions), it feels as if you are saying ‘Not sure, I’ll have to think about that.  Maybe.’  To a Vietnamese person, however, it means simple ‘No thanks,’ which is a very useful substitute for having to speak every time someone offers you their motorbike taxi, a rickshaw, a massage etc. 

4.       Too many people in the world have empty mindless jobs: security guards, roadside stall holders with no customers, bellboys, but more than this, the poor unemployed who sit around all day with nothing to do.  Hell on earth.

5.       Driving in Vietnam is not for the faint-hearted.  There are no road rules and precious little signage.

6.       Having been in Vietnam for a while one sees more clearly than ever that British health and safety concerns are waaay over-the-top (give someone a little bit of power and by god they will be sure to use it) but Vietnam could probably do with a few more concerns of its own.

7.      UK travel advice can also be a bit hysterical.  When I think of all the things I was warned could happen to me!  Maybe they all are possibilities, but here in Vietnam life is more concerned with probabilities.  In any event, in future I shall be more wary about buying expensive anti-malarial medication.  I have been in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia for 3 months and have not had one mosquito bite.  Not one.  Yet I paid £212 for anti-malaria pills and a further £140 for two injections against mosquito-borne Japanese encephalitis.

8.       Vietnam is a beautiful and varied country, with cold wet mountains and steamy hot jungles, filthy noisy cities, serene villages and long beaches.  There is so much more to explore. 

9.       The Vietnamese population has a lot to learn about energy conservation and pollution.  There appears to be no consciousness that littering ultimately destroys one’s own environment.  People commonly chuck their rubbish (eh, vomit on one occasion) out the window, over the side of the boat, into the sea or wherever they happen to be standing, without a thought.  It is a great shame.

10.   Noise pollution is not even on the radar.  One day there will be legislation to cause buses and lorries to drive more safely and less noisily and there will even be a ban on using horns at night.  But this is a long way off.  People in Vietnam rarely seem to mind how loud everything is.

11.   Speaking of which, hotels and guest houses could be much improved if they had less muzak and vacuous pop music blaring everywhere and almost all the time (and if they could just give some thought to room lighting which is usually hopeless). 

12.   The concept of going for a walk appears to be entirely foreign to the Vietnamese who could never understand why I might prefer to walk when I had a motorbike to carry me.  When I explained that in Ang (England) we sometimes enjoy going for walks in the hills on the weekend, I was met with frowning incredulity.

13.   Indochina’s history is as brutal and complicated as Europe’s with centuries of territorial wars.

14.   The food in Viet Nam is wonderful, maybe a bit high on protein, but generally delicious. And the fruit…!

15.   In future I shall be more careful about the massages I have, and will do my best not to gate-crash funerals.

16.   Being away from ‘normal life’ perhaps always allows a person to see it more clearly and appreciate how lucky they are.  I suppose, more than anything, this is what I was looking for in going away for such a long time – to be able to see and feel again, to notice the everyday taken-for-granted aspects of my life in England, things that have become routine or familiar. That and the time to think.  It is obviously hard to perceive the blindingly obvious.  But there is one thing about which I have no illusions – I am incredibly fortunate to have had this extraordinary adventure.

Cultural faux-pas

We're now in Phu Quoc, an island off the coast of Cambodia and Vietnam, claimed by both but currently governed by Vietnam.  We're staying just behind a palm fringed white beach in a hut wih mosquito nets and no aircon but the breakfasts are good.  We were the first to eat this morning, along with families with small children who’d probably been up at the crack of dawn.  It then began to rain and we waited a couple of hours while a thunderstorm engulfed us.  It fairly poured down and there was no possibility of going anywhere.  But by 11 it had cleared and we walked all the way into town, the temperature quickly getting hotter and steamier.  We walked by the docks where the river opens into the sea and made our way back along the river into the town's market which runs beside the river.  We were unable to find any street food until we saw some women cooking on one side of the street and some men sitting, eating and drinking spirits, on the other side of the road.  I assumed this to be a café of sorts though did note several men and women in unusual white clothes with odd hats which I took to be a religious sect (I could see a shrine in the building next to where the men were eating).  So we rather sheepishly stood around waiting for someone to ask us to sit until one of the men at the table instructed us to do just this. I walked across the road and looked at what the women were cooking and began tentatively pointing.  They set about preparing a huge meal for us – delicious pork dish, another pork stir-fry with vegetables and some bitter-tasting veg that looked a cross between a courgette and a cucumber, stuffed with, I think, more (ground) pork.  As soon as we were seated again a man at the next table produced a shot glass of the spirit they were drinking which I sipped politely till instructed to knock the whole thing back in one go.  I did this, whereupon another glass appeared which I successfully drank in one draft.  Rather like sake so presumably a rice wine; potent though.  Delicious food.  Very humid weather.  Another glass appeared and then the oldest man at the table stood before me and appeared to drink my health by knocking back another glassful before passing me yet another.  I stood and drank his health and consumed the glassful, wondering where this was going and beginning to feel just a bit tipsy. 

Soon we were finished our meal and I gesticulated to the chap I assumed to be the waiter for the bill but he indicated that there was nothing to pay. I must have looked perplexed because he then took me to the shrine next door where I saw the face of an old lady behind the incense. It then dawned on me that we had gate-crashed a funeral wake and that probably the old man was this woman’s widower.  I knew that people in the orient wear white at times of death and sadness but it hadn’t occurred to me.   I was given some joss sticks to place in front of her photo and I bowed a few times before insisting they take some money. It turned out they were keeping a book of donations so mine was gratefully received and duly recorded so I didn’t feel quite so bad. I blushingly returned to the table, saying ‘sinloi’ (sorry) a load of times. But there was no bad feeling at all, just amusement at our folly. The old man stood up smiling and shook my hand, thanking me, as some of the other men did and the old chap asked for his photo to be taken with me which Kate duly did. Culturally interesting at so many levels but I did feel a bit of a chump!

Tea With a Communist + Boring Ha Tien

Well today I shall be writing a blog entry after much demand from Zoe and mum back home. Apparently we've been bad correspondents so I'd better get writing!

From My Tho and the floating house we took a boat, then motorbike, then 2 1/2 hour bus to Can Tho which is the largest city in the Mekong delta although didn't feel too big after being somewhere like Saigon. It had a nice feel with a long waterfront with women always trying to get you to go on their boats to the floating markets.

We stayed three nights in Can Tho in the end(after contemplating  Sa Dec, Vinh Long and Chau Doc but we thought they were too tricky to get to) in a nice 'resort' outside the main town where locals tend to spend their weekends, fishing in the pond, eating in the nice restaurant(man they had a good avocado milkshake- and I don't even like avocado!) and, ofcourse, making the most delightful sounds using karaoke.

The first morning we woke up pretty darn early (5:15am) in order to take a small boat, with an utterly hopeless guide, to visit the two floating markets nearby as well as a rice noodle factory which was fascinating. The markets weren't as impressive as we had imagined but cool anyway, and the small canals that we went through were really beautiful.

 Our boat driver, much more competent than our guide, somehow whipped up this amazing plant thing whilst driving the boat out of some bamboo she just picked up.

Our guide told us what a pineapple was.



The rice noodle factory

In the afternoon we trecked in the swealtering heat to have a blind massage which was ok. Very cheap (£1.50 for an hour) but they were chatting away the whole time so not sure it was the mooost relaxing of massages!

Our second day in Can Tho we rented bikes and were trying to find some more small canals when we met Thinh(man, slightly geeky but very nice, 30, maths lecturer at Can Tho university) and Hanh(woman, 57) outside their houses who invited us back for tea that afternoon. She couldn't resist touching my white skin, the poor lady, she was just overwhelmed by my beauty! lol.

Hanh's house, obvs

So after cycling a bit (I still have bruises on my butt from lack of suspension and the poor paths) and getting over heated, we headed back to Hanh's house where we sat in her impressive front room (obviously showing off) and ate mango from trees in her garden, and pomelo, which I can now officially say I like. Kind of odd because only Thinh could speak English but when we found out Hanh used to work for the communist party we were like oooooohh, so that's why you have such a big house and impressive furniture. It was a really great experience, just to see inside a person's house and they were really lovely. Even the old uncle of Hanh said Dad looked older than his age. So charming the Vietnamese.

The next day we took a loooong journey (5 1/2 hours in total) on the bus to Ha Tien where we would catch the Superdong hydrofoil to Phu Quoc. We stayed 2 nights in this ghost resort with nothing really to do apart from a dirty pool. But we met a nice French couple who were the only other people there and who apparently had seen us in Can Tho as they were staying in the same resort. (they paid 2 million dong to get to Ha Tien though and we only paid 280,00. Yes!) Well, in fact I didn't think they were thaaat nice because we went out for a meal with them and I practically didn't say a word as they were just talking about politics and stuff I had no clue about but ahh well.  So odd as well, the lady asked Dad about me. She was like 'And Kate?' WHY DON'T YOU ASK ME YOU SILLY LADY! I must say, I am getting a little sick of everyone always talking to dad and ignoring me but I think it's because he's a man and he's older.

And now we're in Phu Quoc island which is just swell. There are a LOT of tourists and the beach we're staying on is covered in resort after resort but it's still really nice and you can't argue with sleeping less than 100 metres from the beach! Really cheap and yummy seafood here too and by jove did we have a nice breakfast just now!

Anyhoo, had better get on that sand and enjoy the weather (actually today it's raining...) so I'll stop writing now. Sorry if this blog entry has been really long and boring, kind of ranting here but oh well. Byeee
 xoxo
Gossip Girl

Mekong Delta

We spent our first couple of nights in the Mekong Delta on a pretty floating house on the river near the town of My Tho.  Pretty basic what with bamboo walls, ceiling and floor so no protection from mosquitoes but thankfully there weren’t any to speak of.  It felt like living on a waterbed for two nights.  We then each took a motorbike taxi to a bus which took us to Can Tho, the main town in the delta where we are now.  We were up at 5.15 this morning to go off to see a couple of floating markets – Cai Rang and Phuong Dien but the tour also included visiting a rice noodle factory which I found fascinating.  We also got to try a huge number of different fruits: jackfruit, mango, longan, dragon fruit, banana, papaya, pineapple, pomelo (large grapefruit), something which sounded like ‘lachrymose’,  water coconut and star apple.  Extraordinary variety here.  Mangoes are just coming into season.  Some of the smaller canals are astonishingly beautiful. 

This was our floating house on the Mekong

Floating markets

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

Kate and I have spent a truly memorable day visiting the amazing 12th century temples collectively known as Angkor Wat.  Angkor Wat really refers to the best preserved and most holy of the Hindu temples (now Buddhist) built by emperor Suryavarman II who “unified Cambodia and extended Khmer influence across much of Southeast Asia” (to quote Lonely Planet).  It is essentially a huge square plot of land with the temple in the middle, surrounded by a 190 meter wide moat.  It was built at the same time that some of the most famous gothic cathedrals of Europe (Notre Dame, Chartres) were being built.  Not only is the scale of the place truly astonishing, it is the intricate stone carvings of battles and Hindu gods throughout.  We are staying in Siem Reap, the nearby town devoted to feeding and watering the increasing numbers of tourists.  Siem Reap, if translated literally, means rather tactlessly Siamese Defeated, in commemoration of a battle with the Thais.  Honestly, Indochina is little different from Europe with its long history of nations (Khmers, Viets, Chams, Siamese, Lao, Chinese) endlessly battling one another for land.  

Ta Prohm

It’s great to have someone to share all these things with, not to mention share meals with.  I find we’re naturally spending longer over meals than I did when I was eating alone.  Good nosh in Cambodia too – last night we had Amok, fish cooked in banana leaf.

Me and my girl

Steamy Quy Nhon

The view from my room

This is the last week that I’ll have on my own (Kate arrives on Sunday) but I’ve enjoyed staying in my comfortable hotel overlooking the beach.  The beach is very inviting with golden sand, the colour of cornflakes, but unfortunately the weather has been overcast, even rainy at times, but this has meant that I’ve actually managed to get on with a bit of writing at last.  I’ve taken a couple of walks along the beach into town.  Quite a few young pre-teenagers stopped me with their Hellos and asked if I’d appear in their photos.  So then they all whip out their mobile phones, stand around me and have their photo taken.  What they then do with their photos I simply can’t imagine.  Very few tourists here so the local people are very friendly with some who spontaneously wave and smile.  It's lovely.  Why can't we be like this at home?

I turned the tables on this group and took their pic

The Seagull Hotel is the blueish one in the background

But despite having had a relatively quiet week, it all heated up a bit this afternoon when I decided to have a sauna and massage in the hotel’s facility.  It was the first sauna I have come across in Vietnam other than my entire stay in Saigon which felt like one long sauna.  Before being allowed to use the sauna (which was still heating up) I was shown into an adjoining steam room.  Here steam was being pumped through what appeared to be a huge bunch of spinach; it certainly gave the room a slight smell of rotting vegetables.   After the sauna and a shower I was shown to a room where a young woman gave me a fairly hopeless massage by Vietnamese standards – the ones I’ve had have all been different, but on the whole pretty good.  On the other hand this one was surprisingly cheap, only 110,000 dong (just over £3) for an hour.  Anyway, at the end of the massage the young woman offered to… well, how shall I put this… use her hand to finish me off.  It was the first proposition of this sort I have had (though I had read about this kind of thing).  Naturally I said “I’m sorry I am British.  We don’t do sex”, an old chestnut of a joke that came to me during one of my NZ talks where it went down a treat.  Today it fell rather flat with the poor young woman who of course didn’t understand a word.  She looked a bit crestfallen when it was clear that I was declining her kind offer, disappointed I suppose not to be getting a big tip.  Socially an unusual situation to find oneself in, but I hope it’s not put me off massages which I think are great, though I’ll admit that it’s taken me a while to overcome my silly latent feelings that to pay for a massage is all a bit sleazy (after all one is paying to be given sensual pleasure, which is not a million miles from paying for sex).  Harriet has asked me how much the young woman was charging for this extra service (perhaps seeing a market opportunity in the UK?).  Sadly in my awkwardness I failed to ask.  Maybe next time.

28th January - Quy Nhon

I had a pleasant few days in Hoi An, largely thanks to staying in a friendly relaxed hotel, but although a pretty town, I found the number of tourists oppressive and today I was ready to leave.  This morning I had my last ride on the bike.  Having had no response from my posts on Craigslist and Travelfish I'd decided to donate it to a local charity.  I rode into town to meet with Nick Keegan, the director of The Kianh Foundation, to hand over the bike.  I’d located this British charity on the internet and tracked down their offices earlier in the week.  Nick was a nice chap, a Scot from Edinburgh, who’s been in Vietnam for 6 years having left his civil service in the UK out of sheer boredom.  He’s now married to a Vietnamese woman and seemingly happy.  He said how much Hoi An has changed with the massive influx of tourists, and how the locals have become ever more fixated on getting the tourists’ dollars.  The charity, which provides therapies for children across the province with physical and mental disabilities, used to work within a government-run orphanage within Hoi An but the bureaucracy, corruption and eventually obstruction from all the petty officials, envious of the charity’s success in getting things done, became impossible.  The charity is currently waiting for their newly-built day centre, just south of Hoi An, to open.  I was pleased to be able to donate my bike to such a worthwhile charity knowing that my donation would not be stolen by some government official, and in a small way to be able to give something back to Vietnam that I have enjoyed so much.  Nick said that they would either keep the bike for the organisation to use or give it to one of their more impoverished families.  But when I left I was truly sad to say goodbye to my bike which has become like an old friend.

I walked back to the hotel, checked out of my room and waited for the minibus that was to take me to Quy Nhon.  With everyone returning to, or from, their families following Tet, the buses and trains were already full by the time I enquired at the start of the week.  But instead of a minibus, a woman on a motorscooter arrived and told me to get on the back with my huge backpack – no helmet provided.  She took me to the minibus a couple of kilometres away.  My stuff was loaded in the back of the bus and I was told to sit on the back row of seats.  We then set off for a bone-crushing, nerve-jangling bouncy ride for six hours.  Whenever we entered a village or town we slowed so the driver’s assistant could shout out into the street to tout for more passengers.  Before long, our 15 seater minibus was crammed with 28 people (I counted them), and the driver was going at a ridiculous speed swerving out from behind much bigger buses and trucks to overtake them on blind corners etc.  I had felt so much safer and more comfortable on my bike.  I recalled what Nick had told me this morning, that over the four days of Tet, 137 people had been killed on Vietnam’s roads.  I felt certain we would add to those statistics.  Within an hour the old woman beside me was throwing up into a plastic bag which was then summarily thrown out the window (no fun if you happened to be a motorcyclist trying to overtake at that moment).  Then a woman in the row in front of me was vomiting, then another.  The poor woman beside me threw up six or seven times over the course of the journey.  By the end of the journey four adults, all women, and one child (did I mention the two screaming babies?) had vomited.  Happily I was beside an open window.  The longest six hours I can remember. 

It was dark by the time we got to Quy Nhon (pronounced Hweenion) where we were dropped in a random petrol station.  No taxis to be had, and everyone I asked for directions either looked away (which I have learned means ‘I don’t know’) or nodded (also meaning ‘I don’t know’), so I walked in the general direction of where I thought it might be.  Eventually I found the sea and saw the hotel sign a couple of kilometres up the beach.  Long walk with the heavy backpack but when I got there I was given a nice room on the 10th floor overlooking the beach with the sound of crashing waves.  Comfort again; phew.  

Year of the Dragon

Midnight fireworks over the Thu Bon river, Hoi An

very spectacular show it was too

After midnight everyone was in front of their house burning joss paper or hell notes.  Smoke everywhere.  Joss/hell notes are fake money which, on burning, are turned into real money destined for one's ancestors.



22nd January – Hoi An

Hoi An

If I’m ever in Hue again I’ll stay at the Camellia Hotel again.  Lovely staff, extensive breakfasts, comfortable rooms and very central.  I was sad to leave.  Pretty good ride to Hoi An this morning; very few trucks but everyone and their dog (or pig in some cases) were on their motorbikes.  I had a stroke of luck and then a stroke of bad luck.  The good luck occurred as I looked up at the mountain pass between Hue and Danang looming in front of me and seeing a petrol station and thinking “when did I last fill up?”  There are no gauges on this bike, one has to look in the tank.  I was fairly sure I’d filled up before getting to Hue so went on, till a couple of miles later I saw another petrol station and decided that, to be one the safe side, I should check.  As I slowed to enter the gas station my engine spluttered to a stop.  I wasn’t even at the pump and had to push it the rest of the way, but sure enough the tank was bone dry.  The bad luck came about 5 km later when I was going through a village.  Almost every village was having a market today (it’s New Year at midnight tonight) so I was going moderately slowly through the middle of it when this motorbike in front of me to the right abruptly turns left right across my path.  I tried to swerve in front of him because but my right foot clipped the front of his wheel and both of us came to a stop, though neither came off our bikes.  I was furious but decided to go on.  My foot hurt but nothing bad.  Unfortunately, my big toe which must have taken the entire impact has since swollen up and is now black and throbbing.   Crushed but not broken, I think.  Anyway, can’t complain, it’s the only accident I have had.  Now that I am in Hoi An I plan to sell the bike.  In fact when I mentioned this to the hotel reception staff they were all very interested and, sniffing a possible bargain, came out to have a look at it.  But I think I might get a better price if I cleaned it up a bit.

Hoi An is a picture postcard, having been spared by both sides during the American/Vietnam war.  Its centre is teaming with tourists of course but it certainly is pretty.  My hotel is between the centre of town and the beach so I am loath the sell the bike too quickly because it could be useful getting me about over the next few days.  So this is the end of my motorbike adventure, I think.  I shall be sad to say goodbye to the bike which has given much pleasure and a fair bit of grief.  No punctures at all since leaving Dien Bien Phu with that new outer back tyre; I just wish I’d got a new one sooner.  Tonight there will be celebrations in the centre of town, a dragon dance and, at midnight, a countdown and then fireworks.  So I shall have to force myself to stay up late for once and hobble back into town.

Getting ready for Tet, yellow chysanthemums on sale everywhere 

Chùc Mưñg Nἁm Mởi – Happy New Year!

Yesterday began with the roads looking very wet and there was a tiresome spray in the air as I started off around 8.  The spray meant a lot of mud on my visor and having to wipe it off with my hand.  Still, it eventually stopped and the temperature rose, making it quite a warm ride.  Road very flat with an inside lane for motorbikes and fewer trucks on the road, so I got to Hue fairly quickly, arriving in the city around 12.30.  Almost immediately I got completely lost amidst the heavy motorbike traffic.  Still, I eventually found the Camellia Hue Hotel and was given a room on the 8th floor with a good view.  Well equipped too with safety deposit box, its own computer, fruit, bottled water etc.  After my shower I gave in some clothes to be laundered.  Had a quick lunch of rather weird seafood salad and then headed out to the old citadel and the Imperial Enclosure in which I walked around for several hours. 

Some fabulous buildings, though many of them had been destroyed by American bombs.  Away from the fortified gate there were very few visitors so it was like being in a nice peaceful park.  It's quite huge so I managed to get a bit lost. 

Do they have Dr Who here?

In the evening I walked to the small concentration of tourist restaurants and hotels looking for the one that had been established by a Japanese philanthropist in order to support Hue street kids.  Couldn’t find it but opted instead for a packed restaurant called La Carambole and sat amongst a tour group of New Yorkers, mostly middle to older aged and Jewish from what I gathered, a couple on my left who talked incessantly about their food and two delightful women in their 60s from Woodchester, NY, on my right with whom I talked for most of the evening:  Ruth, a retired teacher of children with special needs and Susan a fund-raiser for a Jewish philanthropical organisation.  They were quite reserved but cultured and interesting, and I enjoyed having someone to talk to (though I wonder sometimes whether I am coming across a bit strong in my eagerness to have a conversation with someone).  I have to say I was glad not to be doing what they are doing: one night here, two nights there and then on to the next plane.  I had tuna steak, greens cooked in garlic, and rice.  On the way back to my hotel I heard some people calling out my name.  I assumed they were hailing another James but turned to look anyway and there were the two reclusive German women from the Halong Bay trip whose names, I am ashamed to say, I never knew and still don’t know.  Anyway, we were all thrilled to see one another and it felt like meeting old friends we had known for a lifetime.  What a lot we had to discuss!  Travelling seems to make refugees of us all.

18th January – Vinh City to Dong Hoi

In much better spirits this evening.  The dreaded long ride to Dong Hoi today wasn’t so bad.  A bit of spray in the air for the first hour or two but I kept the visor down the whole way and adjusted to poorer visibility.  Eyes much better this evening.  Fewer trucks and a better road meant I could go faster.  Also, for quite a long way, there was a small motorbike lane allowing us to pass on the inside of the huge lorries – hair-raising (if I had any) but it enabled me to keep up a good pace and I managed to cover the 200k in good time. 

Clearly there are no laws on pollution here.  Most of the lorries belch black smoke and all carry their own elaborately tuned and incredibly loud horn.  Seeing as I appear to be the only person using their wing mirror I can usually see them coming before they deafen me with their horn.  The buses are worse with the drivers priding themselves how close a shave they can have with an oncoming truck and how loud their horns are.  They pull out around bends and even when they can clearly see a huge lorry coming from the other direction.  The accident rate is apparently very high and no wonder.  I’ve been told that learning to drive is optional; cars and bikes are often sold with the driving licence thrown in.  And as for noise pollution… the horn blasts can be heard all night, especially in the cities. 

My first 'road kill' today, as they are called.  A chicken came running across the road from my left while I was belting down the road just outside a village.  Didn't see it till the last moment and with a lorry on my tail, I couldn't even stop afterwards.  Just felt something hit the wheel.  Maybe it survived; I hope so.  It does beg the inevitable question though: Why did the chicken ...?

This is how to buy bananas

I’m now staying at the Saigon Quang Binh Hotel in Dong Hoi, a very pleasant town very near the coast on the Nhat Le river.  It was flattened by the Americans but has been rebuilt.  Lots of huge Chinese nets in the river.  I’m sure the weather has lifted my spirits.  I’ve just walked along the river and into a wonderful market in just my shirtsleeves.  It’s suddenly so much warmer.  I’m glad because I can begin to ditch some of the warmer clothes I bought in the mountains.  Clearly few tourists stop here because I got a lot of stares and smiles from people, and ‘Hello’s from children brave enough to try it out on me.  Everyone here, as they were in Hanoi, is very much gearing up for Tet, the four-day Vietnamese New Year celebrations next week.  All over the place one sees people on their motorbikes transporting small mandarin trees weighed down with ripe fruit, or plum trees in blossom.  Both are traditional at Tet.  Decorations and special foods are being bought for the biggest festival of the year.  Seeing as nothing is open for four days I was advised to bunker down somewhere so hope to be in Hoi An the whole time.   

Mandarin tree on motorbike in Hanoi

17th January – Vinh City

I had a good visit to Hanoi, staying in a comfortable hotel that quickly felt like home.  A bit of a hike into the Old Quarter by taxi but nice to be away from the hubbub.  Before my night at the opera I visited the Women’s Museum which was interesting in terms of the very varied family relations especially within the hill tribes, some of which are matriarchal, but ironically the first exhibit was all to do with marriage and how important it is to women.  The concert was interesting.  A lot of expats and tourists in the stalls mixed in with Vietnamese though none of them were particularly dressed up, as I had expected and vaguely hoped.  I’d even bought a silk tie for about £2 so felt a bit overdressed.  People in the audience were talking out loud and using their mobile phones to text.  The orchestra was conducted by a Japanese chap who seemed very competent but the band itself was not that wonderful.  The strings were often poorly in tune with one another and the brass were all over the place and made painfully obvious mistakes at several points.  They made rather a mess of the Brahms Variations on a Theme by Haydn but seemed more comfortable with the straight Haydn concertos, the first of which was a piano concerto performed by an eleven year old boy who was extraordinary.  His cadenzas were not hugely appropriate to the period of the music but they were technically brilliant. 

The French-built Hanoi Opera House

Next day I visited the Ethnographic Museum which was not far from my hotel.  It’s a wonderful museum and I found it interesting to learn more about some of the hill tribes I have seen during my travels in the mountains.  Had lunch in the museum restaurant and then went back to the hotel. Always a relief to get away from all the honking and pollution of the streets.

At the end of the week I went on an organised tour to Halong Bay, a world heritage site due to its extraordinary karsts, over 2000 of them, that loom steeply out of the water.  It was nice to be organised by someone else for a while.  Had to get up around 6.30 so I could be ready to be picked up by minibus by 7.15.   Wet, foggy, rather grim morning.  Eventually got into the city through the rush hour and then we gradually picked up the other guests. We were told that there would be only 13 of us rather than the 30 that the boat can hold.  These included a middle-aged Australian couple, garrulous Geoff and Kerry who were lovely, and their third child Maddie (15); a young Australian man and woman, of Chinese descent, Edward and Eva, who were very quick to tell us that they were brother and sister and not a couple.  Two highly attractive young women - Hannah from Oxford and the sister of her Vietnamese boyfriend (who they were not travelling with) Lynne, probably Lin actually.  Finally there was a rather odd Italian man called Antonio who instantly reminded me of Joel Grey in the film version of Cabaret, camp with Berkoff-like expressions, and a pair of very quiet middle-aged German women who very much kept to themselves.  It seemed as though I was the most sociable of everyone and talked and talked to everyone over the two days. Very unlike me; I must have been desperate for company. 

It took four hours to get to Halong Bay but had stopped raining by the time we got on board the boat.  After checking into our cabins we had lunch when of course we really got to meet one another. In the afternoon we were taken by smaller boat to a huge three-chambered cave with stalactites and stalagmites which was very impressive and worth seeing, despite the hordes of tourists. God knows what it must be like when the tourist boats are full.

After this some of us did some kayaking but I hadn’t brought any shorts etc so went back to the boat to read.  In the evening we had supper together where I shared the bottle of Dalat wine I had found in my cabin (the only person given any which was odd), but then, when I went to bed, I found that my duvet cover looked dirty and didn’t even smell clean.   So I found the tour guide Hai and asked if it could be changed.  This he did without a fuss but it soured the atmosphere between us slightly.  Slept pretty well though.

The next day we were taken by small boat to a karst with a small beach and 350 steps that led to a look-out on the top.  Antonio and the German women didn’t come.  A great view from the top but still rainy and overcast.  When we got back from the beach we were given a perfunctory cooking class of how to make a spring roll, followed by lunch while the boat returned to harbour.  We set off for Hanoi again, a long exhausting trip somehow.  I was the last to be dropped at their hotel but everyone was very sweet, saying how much fun it had been to meet me etc.  Lin, who’s a second year medical student in Melbourne, even asked for my email so that she can keep in touch.  I don’t suppose she will but it was nice of her to ask. 

Yesterday, Monday, I left Hanoi, heading south to Thanh Hoa (pronounced Tang Hwa) – 170k.  I was given a big send-off from Mr Vung and the hotel staff and promptly went round the corner to take the bike for an oil change.   It took an age getting to the edge of Hanoi and I got lost finding the A1 highway so this took up a lot of time.  The highway was good and fast at first but then deteriorated and became not only broken up but heavy with trucks and buses, the dust and pollution dreadful.  Stopped just before Ninh Binh for a rice dish that was a nice change from pho.  Then headed on.  Got to Thanh Hoa around 3.30 filthy and tired.   After I’d found the hotel and had my beloved shower, black gunk came out from the corners of my eyes onto the towel.  An hour later there was more.  I guess the eyes have a clever way of cleaning themselves, but they were itchy for the rest of the day.  Had dinner at the next door’s hotel restaurant (carp and greens; not great but quite tasty).  Hotel room incredibly noisy from all the traffic and the honking outside.  Not looking forward to more road travel like today over the next three days.

Dirt from the road

Just 140k today but was oppressive nonetheless.   Nothing to look at or stop for, just one uneven, dusty, congested, polluted, incredibly noisy, nerve-racking road!  Nothing to recommend it at all, but it got me from A to B.  And B today is Vinh City where I now am.  The worst is the eyes.  The visor is next to useless because it’s already too scratched up, so I just wear my specs but they don’t stop the dust and pollution getting into the eyes.  I had to stop today to use a tissue to clean them they were weeping so much.  Yech.  I’ve just washed them in water using the tiny eyebath from the huge medical pack I’ve been lugging around, using bottled water of course.  Anyway tomorrow promises to be worse.  From here I go to Dong Hoi which is almost 200k.  The next day is almost as long but at least that takes me to Hue, the ancient capital, where I will be for three nights.  And then there’s a relatively short ride to Hoi An after that where I will be for about a week.  At least it’s getting noticeably warmer as I head south and it hasn’t rained properly since leaving Hanoi, thank god; it only sprayed a bit today.   I’m now looking forward to selling the bike.  I’ve had enough of this heavy traffic down the coast.  At least in Laos and the mountains, though remote, offered beautiful scenery and little traffic by comparison. 

11th January Hanoi

After breakfast I got a taxi to the Opera House, knowing it was near the Old Quarter.  Bought a ticket for a Haydn concert tomorrow evening performed by the Vietnam National Symphony Orchestra.  The opera house was built by the French a century ago and is based on one in Paris.  It promises to be a memorable evening.  I then wandered around the busy, noisy, confusing streets of the Old Quarter.  Bought a revolutionary poster (on canvas) to add to my small collection.  Had lunch on a street corner, huddled with the locals: squid fritter, salty fish, greens and rice (20,000d, about 70p).  Scrum.

Walked on and saw the rather grey gothic cathedral, closed for renovations but eventually managed to find a way in via workmen.  Then on to the huge Ho Chi Minh mausoleum complex which I walked around and managed to catch the changing of the guard.  

Ho Chi Minh mausoleum guard

By this point I had made my way back up to the southern end of Ho Tay (West Lake) so caught a cab back to the hotel.  There I met up with Mr Vung, the front desk manager, with whom I had a long chat about doing an overnight tour of Halong Bay on a boat.  I was only there a couple of hours before having to take another taxi back into town to meet Hieu (brother of Thao who was teaching me a bit of Vietnamese before I left Bristol) at a big popular restaurant he’d suggested.  We had a very pleasant evening together.  He ordered a mixture of delicious local dishes.  I wish I had asked him to write them down because they were very good.  Hieu had spent 18 months in the UK, living in Preston and studying for an MBA, so speaks excellent English.  Recently married, he now works as an engineer and while he would like to buy a separate place for him and his wife he says that house prices in Hanoi are very high so they are having to wait.  After supper we took a taxi to Hoan Kiem lake where we sat in a rooftop restaurant having tea and admiring the view.

Hieu, overlooking Hoan Kiem lake