Hostility in Hanoi

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A couple posing for wedding photos at the lake

With us weary from a night on the sleeper train, being ripped off by a taxi driver with an overclocked meter didn’t exactly endear us to Hanoi. Our hostility hardly improved when we made it to the hotel on foot to find they didn’t have the twin room we’d reserved at the price we’d agreed. Fortunately, a bit of negotiation and a handshake later, we were settled into a ‘delux’ room within our budget, refreshed and set to take on the city, with even HBO on the television as a home comfort to return to at night.

The old quarter of the city is a confusing warren of congested streets filled with honking motorbikes, hostels with misleading names, and 101 places all claiming to be the Sinh Cafe, the most popular travel agent in Vietnam. Alongside the motorbikes, the streets are crammed full of stalls with tiny stools selling beer, and sometimes also offering self-cook BBQs (tasty, but watch the hot oil splashing!). There are also hostels and hotels everywhere – this is traveller central, if our being scammed on the journey in hadn’t already confirmed it.

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Our BBQ dinner


We orientated ourselves in the typical way – by finding a geocache! It gave us a great tour of the lake at the heart of town, and some entertaining snaps of people posing for their wedding photos with the lake as a backdrop. We played ‘guess the genuine couple’; plenty of them seemed to be posing for magazine photoshoots instead. It also gave us a chance to take in the Cathedral, a huge old building with lovely stained glass, bringing back memories of churches back home.

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Symmetry at the Temple of Literature


The city is home to Vietnam’s ‘Temple of Literature’, a homage to academia and the country’s first university – the use of word ‘temple’ shows just how ubiquitous worship is as part of society, much like we found in India. The temple was constructed to following Confucius’ teachings (imported from China), and the Emperor made it the place to sit entrance exams to become a mandarin and join the civil service. In some years, up to 15,000 applied, but only five passed the final royal exam, set by the emperor himself. In an entertaining challenge which perhaps should be adopted back home, none of the letters in the Emperor’s name could be used when giving answers, as to do so would be disrespectful. Fortunately his name was usually quite short; ‘Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth Windsor’ might prove more of an obstacle!

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Stelae with inscriptions of all those who passed the Royal Exam


While in town, we also picked up our visas for Laos (they were brilliantly efficient), and while waiting for them we did our first puzzle geocache, which involved us sitting next to a noisy and busy road by a lake desperately working out how to get some cats, dogs and a lion across a river without catastrophe ensuing. We succeeded, they survived, and the cache was a great distraction!

Our final night saw us take in high culture, in the form of Water Puppets. This traditional artform originated from villagers putting on performances during the seasonal flooding; it’s now descended to be just a pure tourist attraction, but was entertaining nonetheless, with the puppetmasters behind a bamboo screen, controlling their actors through poles and wires hidden underwater. Most memorable was the range of motions they were able to achieve, with puppets spinning, dragons diving under water and spitting water, and flaming processions of much of the cast along a hidden track.

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Water puppets, with the live band on the left


Finally, as we were packing to leave for Ha Long Bay, we learnt a lesson that I never thought I’d have to acknowledge – follow your sister’s advice! We’d been staying at the Hanoi Emperor Hotel, which was slightly cheaper than the place Alison had recommended (and hence within our budget). However, as we received back our laundry things began to unravel, as it was dirtier than it had been when we sent it off. When we refused to pay, they were less than friendly let alone apologetic, resulting in us departing at 7am the next morning amid some raised voices and charming language, and a certainty for us that we will instead go to the Little Hanoi Hostel. Thanks Alison!

Simon

The hues of Huế

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A golden kylin guarding the Imperial City

We’ve had quite a varied experience of actually travelling in Vietnam so far. Trains are very good. We’ve now been in ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ sleepers (the only difference is really 6 vs 4 berths) but they’re pretty luxurious compared to India, with compartment doors – and even a duvet! The only thing I miss is the brilliant organisation of Indian Railways, with its printed seating reservation charts posted on the outside of the train and the sheer scale of the operation. These feel like a kids toy in comparison! The views however have been fantastic, with a stunning costal journey up from Hoi An alongside stark cliff edges and the shimmering sands of deserted beaches.

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View from the train between Hoi An and Huế

We’ve also now taken motorbikes for the first time, in the form of a slightly surprising station pickup from our latest guest house. I think it’s fair to say we were somewhat skeptical about our chances of survival when we trudged off the train with our pile of backpacks and day bags (and a large bundle of clothing to post back home) to find a couple of guys on scooters waiting for us. It turns out that it works quite well with a backpack jammed in the footwell and us clinging on, seated behind the driver (fear not, we had helmets!). Oh, and it turns out you don’t need to wrap your arms around the guy (unless of course you want to) – there are handles by the seat for that! Next time I will avoid also having a bag of clothes though, which provided an entertaining balancing challenge, all the more exciting given this was my first motorbike journey since I was in Brazil 10 years ago!

It’s a bit strange the absence of rickshaws here – we became so used to them in India that the idea of stepping into an A/C taxi seems, well, foreign (but I guess that’s fitting!) Since they’re pretty much the only convenient way of going longer distances in the cities, we’ve had to adapt – but although much cheaper than the UK, they’re still a painful expense, so we’ve been using our feet wherever we can.

We’ve also dabbled in the local buses, which are famously exploitative of tourists. For our journey from Da Nang to Hoi An, we knew the fare should be 15,000 VND (50p) – which is what the locals were handing over – but the ticket boy insisted on us paying 40,000, threatening to kick us off the bus if we didn’t pay when we stood firm. We think this is in part because he’d already conned some other tourists on board and would have to refund them too. Reluctantly (but still cheaper than a taxi), we paid up. On the journey back, we paid the correct fare, showing that at least some of the fare collectors are honest.

Whichever way we’ve travelled, the view out of the window has been very different to India. The dusty plains and palm trees have been supplanted by acres of small plots of land, with rolling green mountains behind. Oddly, dotted amid the vegetation everywhere in the countryside are lots of graves – presumably family members buried on their family vegetable plot? It was even eerier to see many of these underwater in the flooding near Hoi An – I guess that’s just a side to the monsoon you don’t think of.

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Inside a temple in the Imperial City

As we’ve gone on, at times its been hard to remember we’re in Vietnam and not China. Many people look ethnically Chinese, and their language has a Chinese accent to it; the detail of the temples and pagodas are also in the vibrant hues of reds and glistening golds we recognise, and there’s definately a fair few blue dragons on the rooftops. The saving grace is that the script uses the Latin alphabet, and so we’re slowly beginning to recognise and pronounce some of the words, a real challenge for us in Beijing.

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A colourful ceramic-embedded emblem in the Citadel

The guide book optimistically says Hue has “stood aside from the current economic frenzy … A small peaceful city, full of lakes, canals and lush vegetation, all celebrated in countless romantic outpourings by its much esteemed poetic fraternity.” If the world of work taught me one thing, it’s to manage expectations – and ours were truly set by this description. So it came as somewhat of a disappointment to find a noisy, traffic ridden strip (euphemistically named the ‘South Bank’), surrounded by high rise hotels and a view across the river to huge neon adverts for the local beer company. Perhaps the literati have been drinking too much of that stuff! As we found, there is a nice part to the city – but it’s a stretch to say the place as a whole is peaceful, and it certainly isn’t small either.

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The Imperial City in the Citadel

Hue is famous for its citadel, whose 11km of walls are still intact, along with a decent, wide moat to keep intruders out. Again there are strong echoes of Beijing here, with the Imperial City strikingly similar to its Forbidden City, with a nested Forbidden Purple City for the emperor and his concubines, and the red flag flying in front similarly positioned to where Tienanmen Square would be with its portrait of Mao. This part of the city is indeed lovely – although partly destroyed by bombing in the war, what remains is a mixture of quiet and ramshackle gardens intermingled with wonderfully restored buildings and stunning ornamentation. These include an intricately patterned theatre; majestic corridors of teak beams with bright red and gold decoration; yellow dragons gleaming in the sun; and stunning blue and white decorative emblems made from pieces of embedded ceramics. Hidden among these were also a couple of Geocaches which we delighted in finding – one with a huge frog living next to it!


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A bright corridor near the geocache

The citadel also has an entertaining ‘digital reconstruction’ of what it once looked like, funded by aid from South Korea (and heavily sponsored by Samsung). It was interesting to see how the jigsaw of ruins previously fitted together, but the highlight that made me laugh out loud was how the video ended with a computer rendered cut scene of the emperor sitting before the imperial court with his mandarins bowing before him. Such was the style of the digital graphics, the panning camerawork, and the massed drumming in the background, it could have come straight from the pre-fight intro sequence to any number of ‘beat-em-up’ computer games, say Tekken. I was just expecting a “3-2-1 fight” message on screen when the closing credits came up!

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Our boat on the perfume river (on the right)


Other than food (which I’ll leave to
Laura as our culinary features editor), the city’s other main attraction is the wide Perfume River, winding its way through the centre, its banks home to a plethora of temples, pagodas and mausoleums. Fragranced it was (fortunately) not, it was one of the murkiest waterways we’ve been on, with lots of family-run operations dredging for stones and gravel from the bottom for use as building materials. We hired a boat for a day and took a pleasant trip south along to some of the sights, which really were worth seeing. There were a couple of very tranquil mausoleums set in acres of parkland, one with a gorgeous lake surrounding the burial mound. We also visited a Buddhist pagoda, with a working monastery, and former home to Thich Quang Duc, the monk who famously set fire to himself in front of the world’s press in Saigon in protest at President Diem’s regime. The infamous photo can be seen below, along with the car he drove there in.

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The Thien Mu Pagoda


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Thich Quang Duc's car and the famous photo

On reflection, there is actually one obvious contrast with China – for despite Vietnam’s troubled past, its modern persona is very much free and open, a marked difference to the visible repression we saw on the streets of Tibet, or the more subtle control over Tiennamen Square, and the mind games of Internet censorship in the ubiquitous Internet cafes heaving with young people playing online games. In that sense, here’s hoping this is a path in which China can follow Vietnam rather than the other way round.

Simon

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The burial mound at the Minh Mang mausoleum

A Vietnamese Disneyland?

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Decoration in an inner courtyard

Arriving in Hoi An, Laura pointed out that it seemed we’d taken taken a wrong turn and ended up in Disneyland.

The streets were free from traffic, and full of groups of white tourists wandering round taking photos. All the buildings were beautifully maintained, a fabric of mustard yellow walls hemmed in by dark wooden beams, with dangling red chinese lanterns. There were street vendors on each corner, offering drinks and snacks – and ponchos when the downpour started. Even the locals seemed to be in costume (although not cartoon style), with far more of the Vietnamese cone bamboo hats than we’ve seen elsewhere. In little squares on street corners there were ‘cultural performances’ being put on for the tourists. Oh, and there was piped music playing in the streets, a background of classical strings and asian singing. Bizarre! Fortunately, the town’s savings grace was in what it was missing from Disneyland: no McDonalds, fairy castles, or Mickey Mouse – although there were a few rats around!

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A Hoi An street with mustard walls and red lanterns

The town is a UNESCO world heritage site, an ancient port and former trading gateway to much of South East Asia’s interior, sitting on the banks of a large river estuary. It frequently floods as typhoon waters flow downstream from the nearby central highlands; our friend Sarah was here a week ago when the three streets nearest the river (most of the old town) were all under water – you can see the high water mark above Laura in a house we visited in the photo below!

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High water marks in an old house by the river

It may be quaint and twee and
somewhat of a facade for foreigners, but we did quite like the old part of town, with its interwoven patchwork of Chinese, Japanese and Vietnamese influences that had stemmed from distant traders settling permanently. It’s visually stunning, there’s a mouthwatering range of food, and it was wonderful to escape the drone of motorbikes we’ve had elsewhere – at times, you could hear a pin drop.

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A painted lantern in the street

There’s also a good smattering of historic sites to visit, the most famous being the Japanese Bridge. The story goes that a Japanese earthquake had been attributed to a dragon with its head in India, tail in Japan, and heart in Hoi An. Coincidentally also providing the opportunity to span the river, the bridge was primarily constructed to pin the heart of the dragon down and prevent further catastrophes. I just hope the slightly dilapidated state of the bridge today was not connected with the disaster earlier this year!

Elsewhere in the town are a set of five Chinese Assembly Halls, one for each of the different minority groups settled in the town. Going round a couple of these gave us a lovely flashback to our time in Beijing, with such glorious reds and golds and wonderful painted dragons on rooftops. They also had something striking we haven’t seen anywhere before – an array of huge coils of incense suspended from the ceiling, each with a memorial card hung inside. These were maybe a metre tall and a metre in diameter, very slowly filling the space with sweet smoke in memory of those that have passed away.

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One of the Chinese Assembly Halls

We also popped round an old house in the city, where we came across a ‘Confucius cup’, which preaches moderation by only functioning when less than 80% full. I’m not sure how well it would go down in pubs back in the UK though!

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Coils of hanging incense in the Assembly Hall

Another thread of history running through the area is that of the Champa dynasty and the holy site of Mỹ Sơn (pronounced mi sun). An expansive set of Hindu towers and temples, it was occupied by the Viet Cong during the American war (as they call it here, ‘Vietnam War’ doesn’t make much sense without context). As with much of Vietnam, this meant it was victim to heavy B52 bombing, and little of the site is still intact today. The ruins were interesting to look round, even if only as a glimpse of what once was – and to get some great photos of temples overrun by greenery.

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Stone carving at one of the temples at My Son

Finally, the city’s the place to come in Vietnam for personal tailoring, with a seam of shops offering a bewildering range of suits, coats, dresses and skirts at bargain prices. It felt like we got one of everything! Over the course of a hectic afternoon, Laura got dresses and a skirt, I got a suit, and we got some trousers and a coat for my sister. Each of these was custom made to order, some by the next day, and some the same day. Amazing!

I’ve never really been to a tailor before. It turns out there are a lot of questions you have to answer if you want a suit, or at least you need a Laura to help deflect them. Styles, colours, material, pleats, vents, pockets, piping, lining – and that’s before the 101 different dimensions for fitting! Anyway, we were both pretty pleased with the result – you can see us modelling our new clothing below. Feeling much smarter, we set off for Hue, safe in the knowledge that at least we’ll have some clean clothes when we finally make it back home!

Simon

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Our smart new clothes

Good Evening Vietnam!

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The view over the city from the tower

Having spent an exciting few days in the busy Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC), we’re now on a sleeper train heading north for the calmer town of Hoi An.

It’s consistently an interesting experience arriving into a new country and needing to recalibrate. Obviously there’s the language and currency, but also the street price of everyday items, since in a world with few displayed fixed prices it’s easy to get ripped off. There’s also the question of transport, a somewhat integral part of ‘travelling’! In India, we quickly fell into the routine of rickshaws and trains; here we’re told that for travel in town it’s taxis (ok, but perhaps a bit pricy for us), being a passenger on a motorcycle (err, does that work for two?!), or cyclos, essentially a glorified cot stuck on the front of a pedal bike (which again are designed for solo travelling). We’ll keep you posted on how we get on with these – or whether our feet pay the price for our lack of a sense of adventure!

Fortunately, the trains seem to be pretty good; we’re in one of the less luxurious 6 berth ‘hard sleepers’, which is clean, and even has a door – a feature absent from the Indian trains we loved so much. The only bad thing so far seems to be the lack of boiling water. We brought noodles to, err, instantiate (well, they are instant, right?), but so far – and I’m on the fourth attempt now – there’s only been cold water from the boiler. I think five will be our lucky number though!

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Not what we expecting to find for sale at the airport!


Arriving from India, exhausted after two flights and a nine hour stopover on the hard floor of Kuala Lumpur airport, HCMC was a bit of a shock. It’s like being in Europe! There’s French architecture and boulevards! There are even pavements! Oh, and in a less European feel, there are lots and lots of motorbikes, many on these very pavements!

The rise of the motorbike is a pretty good proxy for the city’s economic rise, itself largely as a result of the tourism the country has experienced since it opened borders to the west in 1989. According to a guide the other day, ten years ago there were 200,000 bikes on the streets, for the 8 million inhabitants. Now there are 4 million, one for every two people. And it really feels like it – a swarm of roaring, screeching, honking two-wheeled insects that seem to get everywhere.

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Motorbikes everywhere!

It’s hard enough trying to cross the road when there are no lights and just a continual mutating mass of metal and rubber pouring towards you. The trick is just to keep walking forward slowly, dodging only the cars and buses; the bikes will dodge you. However, early on, we made the mistake of trying to cross the city on foot at rush hour – never again! The added complication here is that the bikes also use the pavements as spillover lanes, in their thousands. It’s so common for bikes to use the pavement that the curbs are almost all ramps, for ease of access. It’s the easy cure-all! One-way street getting in the way? Use the pavement! Traffic jam on the tarmac? Stand aside, pedestrians! No right turn? You guessed it! The net effect of the chaos is that every time you cross
a road, you need to look both ways, simultaneously – to monitor both the regular traffic, the bikes on the periphery of the street heading in the other direction, and then the pavement traffic, which can come from anywhere – including the sneaky side-alleys that sub-divide each residential block. At one point on our journey home, we faced a comical (in retrospect, anyway) decision – to wade through the dense stream of bikes coming against us on the main pavement, or to take advantage of some building work that was going on and had cleared some space in which to walk – but doing so meant walking under a guy balanced on a bamboo ladder using a power drill on the cladding of the building above. Having used our best risk assessment skills, we chose the builder’s route, although there was a moment of total panic for me when I thought I heard the sound of breaking tiles from on high!

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Laura and Sarah on our evening out


Happily, we’ve also been able to meet up with my friend from work Sarah Mann, who’s at the end of a Gap Adventures tour of the country. There’s something fantastically reassuring about seeing a familiar face, and it was great to catch up over food and drinks on a couple of evenings. Big thanks to her for bringing a couple of much-needed supplies out from the UK. Unfortunately we left her yesterday to carry on with our day jobs – for her, risk management; for us, adventure – or perhaps that’s risk taking, if you want to look at it that way!

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Wandering around the sights of HCMC, there are continual reminders of the war and its devastating impact on the country. It’s a little hard to separate the propaganda from reality – for example in how unified the country really is under the red flag. The communist government (who won the war and reunified the country) renamed the city after the communist party’s founder, Ho Chi Minh – but locals still prefer to use the former name, Saigon. We’re told there’s a strong north/south divide too – with the south having modernised and being the major source of investment and trade, while the north has more of the country’s ideological and cultural base.

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Shock and awe?

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Simon in the Cu Chi tunnels


The narrative of war presented is one of communist cunning in the face of massive American military supremacy, exemplified by the tunnels at Cu Chi, just north of the city. Originally for storage but connected up in the war, locals constructed some 240km of tunnels in the clay beneath the forest, some three stories deep, with hidden entrances, and various traps to ensnare American troops. With many underground for long periods of time, there were bunkers to live in, including ingenious methods to disperse smoke from cooking fires so it rose far from the original source. We got a chance to crawl 40m through a tunnel widened for westerners (still very cramped!), and you can see Laura modelling a tiny hidden tunnel entrance. Sadly, this conquest of brain verses brawn just meant the American military machine brought in the policy of total destruction of the landscape to rout the Viet Cong, through B52 carpet bombing, and the infamous Agent Orange as a defoliant.

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A trap for American Soldiers


We also took in the very seventies Reunification Palace, still used for state events, and site of the defining image of the end of the war, with the two tanks that broke through the gates still present in the grounds. There was also a chance to see amazing views over the city from a newly opened skyscraper – photo at the top.

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Laura in the entrance to
the secret tunnel


It took us two visits to get round the distressing exhibitions of the war remnants museum, which show the chilling destruction wrought by twenty years of war in photographs. These include a touching memorial to photojournalists who died exposing the truth of the conflict, with many of their final photos on display. It’s hard not to be disgusted by the barbarity of war and lack of respect for human life, especially of civilians. The photo caption pictured below from a western photographer really speaks for itself. Apparently there have now been more suicides of American troops suffering post-traumatic stress than there were American deaths during the conflict itself.

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One last thing – Agent Orange, or to give them them their true name, dioxins. My photojournalist friend Michael Carroll has exhibited some incredible work on the horrifying effect these poisons had on the people – of the war, but also future generations, such is the nature of chemical warfare. However shocking the imagery is (and it is), I don’t think I’d appreciated the scale of the problem. Let me give you a few numbers. It’s believed that 3 to 4 million Vietnamese have suffered illness (or death) as a result of the chemicals sprayed, and tens of thousands of troops on the side doing the spraying – American, but also other asian allies – were affected too. These chemicals were made by large western firms who still thrive today, names like Monsanto and Dow Chemical. At the end of the exhibition were some newspaper articles, including one from August 2010, entitled “At least it’s a start”, recognising the $12 million committed by the US Aid programme to start clearing up the chemical mess they left behind in dioxins at their Vietnamese military bases. I think this was generally praised as a positive move in the international press at the time, but you really have to see it in context. The same bill announced more funding for the US soldiers who were victims of dioxins, this to the tune of $13 billion. Yes, that’s million vs billion. For the sake of the millions of affected Vietnamese who have to live amid it every day, I hope it is just a start.

Simon

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The hand of friendship?

PS. We finally worked out how to do captions. Hope you enjoy them!