Vietnam is too big to do in a single hit (when you’re doing in on annual leave rather than a proper walkabout) so having visited the north in January, we flew to the south in December.
As excited to see our friend Steph as we were to see a new bit of the world, we arrived in Ho Chi Minh City (or Saigon as everyone still calls it) the night before our friend Steph arrived from the UK. And before my backpack as it turned out - but thankfully both arrived the next morning.
Laughing in the face of jet lag (Steph, not us. Can’t claim jet leg on a 1hr time difference) we spent the first day exploring the city’s landmarks. Everyday is a school trip with us so first stop was the War Museum to see the horrific impacts on the American War (as it’s called in Vietnam) both at the time and ongoing. The museum is partisan of course but in a war that no-one seems able to justify it presented some interesting facts about life under attack. Due to recent infrastructure investment from China, all reference to the part China and Russia played have been removed which is a shame as that would add some balance but also help fill in some knowledge gaps for me about the difference between the North and South experiences. Instead the 3 floors concentrate on the impacts on agriculture, civilians and the ongoing effects of using Agent Orange. You can’t sugar the pill when it comes to chemical warfare but I’m not sure any of us were ready for the photo’s showing the immediate effects, and those still present in new-borns 3 generations on.
From there we stopped off for the most expensive drinks of the trip - 3 waters, and 2 7Ups for $28. Outraged by such a bill we refrained from trashing the place in anger just long enough to do the sums again. Turns out it cost $2.80. The conversion rate of 33,000 Dong to the £ caused us maths problems throughout this trip. The thrill of being a cashpoint millionaire doesn’t last long when you realise it’s £33 taking up your entire bag.
Next stop Imperial Palace - no longer in use but the historically important site of Ho Chi Minh handing over the city to the Communist Party in 1975. It’s an incredible place - somewhere between a war room (helicopter pad, comms centre and bunker in the basement), an Corporate HQ and a Bond villains lair. Super-stylish in 60’s decor. Sadly lacking a swimming pool though so we didn’t buy it.
Our plan for Christmas Day involved a speed-boat up the Mekong to see the Cu Chi war tunnels however an unusual-for-this-time-of-year typhoon was heading our way and all river activity had been banned. Typhoon Tembin had struck the Philippines a few days earlier, killing 220 and leaving devastation in it’s wake. It hadn’t hit land since then and was showing no signs of slowing down so the government was taking the threat seriously; evacuating people from the coastal provinces and locking down all public transport in preparation. HCMC was the next big-population region it was due to hit.
We were in no danger so changed out plans to an ever-so slightly less glamorous mini-bus, visiting the bizarre Thanh That Cao Dai temple in the morning in the hope that we might be able to speedboat back to the city after the tunnels in the afternoon.
The religion of Cao Dai began in 1926 and follows a mix of Eastern and Western beliefs: Hindu, Christian, Buddhist, Confucius , Brahma and Islam, Taoism. It also looks like Willy Wonka built it. It’s beautiful in a weird cult way but despite all the brights colours and mythical beasts (they hold sacred the unicorn, dragon and turtle*) the ceremonies we witnessed felt as drab as most other temples. The single ‘all-seeing eye’ that features throughout the temple and in the ceremonious clothing of the male leaders (of course only men! It may only have been invented in the 20th Century but it’s still got to support the patriarchy) is a creepy affair and in a year where The Housemaids Tale has made a comeback we couldn’t help but mutter ‘under his eye’ as we explored.
Same old ‘riches for the gods while the worshippers starve’ and ‘women at the back’ nonsense. Told without so much as a smirk, this religion was quite literally ‘dreamt up’ by a civil servant who then convinced others to make his dream a reality. I can only imagine the dream was opium induced and went along the lines of ‘I’ve dreamt of a way to get a lot of money off people irrelevant of their god-preference’.
*We did point out that a Turtle is not a mythical creature but that was shushed and we moved on.
Next stop world-famous Cu Chi tunnels and they didn’t disappoint - 250kms of tiny deep tunnels just wide enough for a small Vietnamese frame.
Whole villages had to live in these tunnels - tiny, filthy spaces that they slept, cooked, and fought in to survive. The network is very impressive - from the trick routes with man-traps, smoke chimneys built away from real locations, the river escapes (to prevent flooding if the Americans found an entrance and tried to drown them and to give them a last resort exit if needed), and the multiple levels for different purposes - it’s a real feat of design. And all done with no light. Years of persecution made them ingenious in ways I hope we never have to be. Rubber soles fixed on backwards to leave mis-leading footprints, different man-traps for different levels of injury and surprise (the rationale being that it will take 2 more soldiers to rescue an injured soldier so you don’t want them too lightly injured or killed outright, and the longer they take to untangle him without further maiming the better), bird sounds to communicate etc.
I describe my claustrophobia as ‘can just about cope on an aeroplane’ so didn’t go through any but Steph and Chris did. I waited at the other end with the camera, and their description of having to bear-crawl through hot, humid and not very-well oxygenated mud-holes made me glad I’m a coward. We all got into a tunnel entrance and that was quite enough for me.
Typhoon Tembin had failed to make a U-turn while we were there so the river option was definitely off and we drove home to open the 2 bottles of Tattinger Stephie had bought from the UK. It being Christmas Day we made some video-calls back to the families in the UK to raise a glass and see what we were missing. Unbeknown to us, our cunning plan not to alarm anyone with talk of the storm lock-down was thwarted by the BBC having banged on about it all day using the headline “Killer Storm heads for Vietnam’. Not worrying your family while travelling was so much easier pre-internet…
Thankfully (for us) Tembin hit Can Dao island and slowed down significantly. Pretty much by-passing Nam in favour of the Thai islands, it created some rain but given the expected ferocity no-one was complaining.
Relieved to be on track with our plans, we caught the sleeper bus to Can Tho. Simultaneously failing to be comfortable or practical these adult-cot buses are used for all long distance journeys day or night. In additional to jamming your legs into a Asian-sized cot, you must lie down throughout, keeping your bags and shoes on top of you (or shoved down by your feet if your feet aren’t already bent double and occupying all space) while you enjoy the ride. Steph it turns out is Expert level in being able to fall asleep on any form of transport, plastic cots included.
Our huts for the next 2 night were basic but brilliant. Wooden slats with a view through to the river below and the boats passing by made it feel very remote despite being 30 minutes away from the nearest town. Just some backpackers, a few hammocks and a fridge full of beer. Seems we can also add ‘hammock’ to the list of places Steph can sleep like a baby.
The only ‘ents’ were a trip to the floating market which turned out to less scenic and more practical for the Mekong dwellers. With a ratio of 5:1 tourists to market traders it didn’t take long to tire of circling the pineapple boat, followed by the jack fruit boat, followed by another pineapple boat.
Luckily our guide (the fella who works at the hostel and knows upwards of 100 English words) made the day memorable. His insistence on wearing a voice-distorting headset microphone to talk to us ensured we understood around 15% of the wisdom imparted. I would argue that 7 people in a small boat are able to communicate without microphones but he felt differently. After an hour of us shouting ‘can’t understand you’ and shrugging at each other he got the sulks, removed the microphone and stopped talking to us. From that point on we had to eek information out of him; at the market garden he answered our ‘what’s that’ questions with ‘salad’ or ‘just something to look at’. At the noodle making house he withdrew further to mono-syllabic responses: ‘Is this the same as they use in spring rolls?’ – No. ‘Can we try some?’ – No. Having mostly sarcastic bastards in the group made this hilarious and to his increasing confusion the more useless he was the more we laughed. Returning to our hammocks we all agreed it was the most fun we’d had on the worst tour we’d ever had.
Next morning we took a prop plane to Phu Quoc – a small but fast developing island just off the Cambodian coast – for a few days of doing nothing in the sun.
Dossing around in the sun isn’t too tricksy on Phu Quoc. For variety we tried 3 different beaches, took a boat trip around the Southern Islands (not as good as the Mekong tour obviously but gave Steph a chance to confirm her boat-sleeping skills), and saw in 2018 with pizza and wine. And cocktails. And more wine….
Thoroughly relaxed after 3 days of nothingness, we were about to enjoy our final breakfast of Ice-coffee and eggs when a random web-check showed our flight out had been bought forward an hour. With 50 minutes to go we grabbed our belongings and despite the best efforts of the pootling taxi made it to check in just in time. On the plus side it gave us an extra hour in HCMC airport waiting for our connecting flight. Because 3 hours wouldn’t have been enough to explore the shop and café on offer.
2nd flight took us to Da Nang, the furthest North we were heading this trip and we were met with rain from the off. In November this region got badly flooded with 1.4m of standing water for over a week so we were OK to cope with a bit of rain. Plus it was still in the mid-20’s so wasn’t going to stop play. Da Nang is an unremarkable place but it is the closest airport to Hoi An, famed for its untouched beauty forged by the influences of Japan, China and France occupations over the years.
Untouched is pushing it a bit as it relies wholly on tourist dollars to survive but it is a very scenic place to hang out for 2 days. This time we stayed in a woman’s house who’d converted her spare rooms into a B&B. She also seemed to have employed her slightly batty mother as cleaner and night-watch(wo)man. Admirable to keep it a family business but as a cleaner she forgot to clean our rooms and lost our keys, and as a night-watch she was incredibly hard to wake up. After the first night of trying to raise her for an age, we just forced the doors open on night 2 and stepped over her sleeping body to get to our rooms.
In the name of culture we took a day trip to My Son - the oldest ChamTemple Ruins in Vietnam. Despite the remaining structures dating back to the 13th century (the site itself 4th Century), and being a Unesco site it is overshadowed by the proximity of Angkor Wat in neighbouring Cambodia so not as well touristed but still interesting in it’s own right. Set at the foot of Hon Quap (Cats tooth) mountain it’s surrounded by lush jungle so gave us a different view of Vietnam again.
Although it felt like we’d seen a fair amount of diversity in a short time, it still flew by and before we knew it we were back in HCMC for a final day. Our visit to the famed Binh Tay market (less local goods, more knock-off handbags/sportswear) was made more interesting when a fire broke out - that’s a lot of man-made fibres in a small badly built building - but not wanting to inspire another BBC headline we took it as a sign to call it a day and head to the rooftop bar for final drinks.
Loved South Vietnam and made all the better for having Steph with us. Around 6 months (ish) til we meet again so we waved goodbye, and flew to our respective home countries. Ours being the PRC we’re not allowed to gamble but if I were to, I’d bet Steph slept her way back to the UK.
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