Cu chi coo, Ho Chi Minh

And here we are in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). Bigger, crazier and just as 'tooty' as Hanoi, we managed to find a hotel off the main roads and secure a little bit of piece and quiet. 

One of the highlights of my time here was the Cu Chi tunnels, which are located in the Cu Chi district around one and a half hours drive from Saigon. The tunnels were constructed during the war by the Viet Cong and used as a hiding place from the American soldiers who were unable to find the tunnels and, when they did, largely underestimated their complexity. 

The tunnels at Cu Chi have been preserved by the Vietnamese government and cover around 121 kilometres: a staggering distance when you consider they were dug entirely by hand using only small spades and buckets. We were able to travel through a small section of the tunnels (approximately 120 metres long) and experience what life was like underground for the Viet Cong. I can't say I could have survived in those cramped conditions - the tunnels are tiny, dark and very, very hot. You wouldn't want to venture down there if you were claustrophobic or, unsurprisingly, if you were partial to pies. 

The Vietnamese were a wily lot - their tunnel system was exceptionally labyrinthine, and the traps they dreamed up for the American soldiers were nothing short of genius. No stone was left unturned in their quest to outsmart the US and what they lacked in fire power they more than made up for in cunning. They would hide out in their tunnels during the day when American soldiers were patrolling, well hidden underneath the trap doors scattered throughout the Cu Chi area. By night, they emerged and fought when the Americans were resting and when the malaria-ridden mosquitos were out in force. Malaria was a prominent cause of death for Viet Cong soldiers, second only to battle wounds.

Our tour guide for the half day was a fascinating man. Vietnamese, he spent seven years fighting for the Americans and was a wealth of information and stories, some of which he was reluctant to share. His name was 'Bin' (pronounced 'bean'), or as he liked to be called, Mr Bin. Prior to the war he attended medical school and was training to become a doctor. He met his girlfriend there and they planned to marry. Tragically, war broke out and his girlfriend and family were murdered by the Viet Cong and he was drawn into the war to fight for the Americans.

It is pretty incredible to think that so many of the people who still walk the streets of Saigon today have been witness to the horrors and atrocities of the Vietnam war. It's even more incredible to think they survived. To live through this and maintain any sort of faith in the human race or in God (presuming there is one) would be a difficult task and require exceptional strength of character. Although that said, if you've lost your livelihood, your home and even your family what else is left except blind faith? It doesn't bear thinking about.

The atrocities of the Vietnam war are well documented at the War Remnants Museum in central Saigon. The building is home to a range of war paraphernalia such as old aircraft, tanks and munitions along with an extensive collection of photographs from newspapers and private collections around the world. Interestingly, it has been known by a number of names across the years, including 'The House for Displaying War Crimes of American Imperialism and the Puppet Government', the 'Museum of American War Crimes' and later as the 'War Crimes Museum', until 1993 when it was given its present name following liberalisation and normalisation of US-Vietnam international relations.

The museum also features a craft workshop which provides work for those affected by Agent Orange - this is set up right next to the main entrance and is the first thing you see upon entering the building. Those working at the shop are mostly kids, and all have obvious physical deformations. Blatant marketing strategy? Absolutely. Heart-rending? Undoubtedly. Exploitation? I'll let you be the judge.

Some of the photographs from the exhibition were truly breathtaking, particularly those by Japanese photographer Yasufumi Murayara who documented the aftermath of the war and, primarily, the lives of those who were affected by Agent Orange. Some of the photos were sad yet inspiring and others tore me up inside. I actually had to leave the exhibition around three quarters of the way through as I was viewing the photos through a haze of tears. How anyone could inflict such horror on an innocent population with such little understanding and disregard for the long-term effects is beyond my comprehension. Murayara began photographing Vietnamese victims (mostly children) in 1998 and the extent of the deformities they suffer is heart-wrenching. His pictures capture an incredible amount in a single shot and despite their quality it seems surreal and wrong to find beauty in them.

You may have noticed from my earlier explanation regarding the museum's nomenclature that it is not the most impartial exhibition in town. It focuses solely on the Vietnamese war perspective and the evil of the Americans. Admittedly, I can't say I could stand in that museum and say I was proud to be an American (not that I am but that's beside the point), however it is important to note that there are two sides to every story -  the Vietnamese are equally as guilty of perpetuating the horrors which plaster the walls of the museum. Not only that, but they committed these heinous crimes against their own people.

It's hard to understand the point of museums like this sometimes - although historical, paying money to witness such suffering seems macabre and borderline voyeuristic. Of course, they pay tribute to the innocent lives lost in the name of war and document history so that we may ensure it never repeats, however the very same events are still taking place today in the world. Tragically, those who incite war aren't the ones visiting these places - they are the war mongers of the world whose opinions won't be swayed by the suffering of a small south east asian nation. Whether it be over communism, religion or natural resources, the wars will continue regardless. We will not learn.

But, I digress. The rest of our time in Saigon was great. We met some great people at our hotel and spent a lot of time with them and found many great places to eat and drink. We also ran into friends we had met in Hanoi and Hoi An which was a nice surprise - it's just like being back in little ol' Daegu!

One other memorable part of my trip was my visit to the Christina Noble Foundation Sunshine School which is located in Ho Chi Minh City. After reading Bridge Across My Sorrows and Mama Tina many years ago (and countless times since) I made it my mission to visit there if ever I made it to Saigon. That I did, and yesterday I was privileged enough to visit the school, meet with some of the coordinators and also one of Christina's daughters who arrived with her own family as I was there. The school was amazing - far more modern and developed than I could have imagined and staffed by some of the loveliest people you could meet. I saw a lot of the kids too, who were just like Korean kids - cheeky, inquisitive and full of boundless energy. I'm giving consideration to a volunteering post there next year for a few months, so watch this space.

And on that note, I will leave you. I find myself finishing this post in Phnom Penh, Cambodia - it has stopped raining outside and there are streets to be explored and food to be eaten. I'm off to the killing fields and the Tuol Sleng museum tomorrow morning so that should be a cheerful day all round! I will attempt to upload some photos soon too - unfortunately the connection here is too slow and I'm too impatient. 

More soon!

Finding happiness in Hoi An

Sorry folks ... a quick and boring post this time as I'm really tired and now don't have a computer as mine passed away this week. Again.

Last week we left bustling, noisy Hanoi and boarded the sleeper train for Hoi An in search of a little peace and quiet. We arrived around midday to an incredible amount of rain which transformed the streets from arid scooter-filled highways to small rivers. The Vietnamese of course were well prepared with enormous rain ponchos, whereas we were not and ended up getting rather soggy.

Hoi An was a refreshing change from Hanoi, with smaller, cleaner and quieter streets and quaint French architecture dating back to colonial times. The city is relatively small and is a gastronomic paradise - you could virtually eat in a different restaurant every night for months, probably longer at the rate a lot of them turn over.

We initally checked into a lovely hotel with a swimming pool but decided that we would only spend two nights there in order to preserve our travel budgets. We moved across the road and spent two nights in the Sea Star Hotel which was far from exquisite, but doable.

I can't say that I really did much in Hoi An and this is precisely why I loved it. The pace of life is slow, and more notably it was too hot to really do a heck of a lot. Early in the stay we attended a cooking school which turned out to be great fun. And, contrary to popular belief, I am actually capable of cooking edible food! The fact that I am still alive and writing this is proof, as I ate everything I made. We met Sanj and Kristy, a British couple who have been travelling for almost two years. They were absolutely lovely and we ended up having dinner with them a few times before we left Hoi An.

We also met up with Cristian, a Chilean traveller we met in Hanoi. A fairly large night was had on Wednesday after dinner - Billy and I ended up in a strange bar in what seemed like the middle of nowhere drinking vodka and playing pool with four Polish guys. Vincent and Cristian (French and Chilean guys) arrived later and the night went on until the wee hours when we finally managed to navigate our way home.

On Thursday Vincent, Cristian and I hired bikes and rode out to China Beach and spent the afternoon swimming and relaxing in the sun. Billy paid us a surprise visit later in the afternoon looking like a human lobster after deciding to ride a scooter all the way to Da Nang and back without any sunscreen on. Needless to say he spent the next few days regretting that decision!

My final day in Hoi An was spent relaxing, posting home the clothes I had tailored, and having lunch down on the river. We then rode around the island for the rest of the afternoon and met Billy, Kristin, Sanj and Kirsty for a final dinner before departing for the airport to catch our flight to Saigon.

All up, it was a brilliant stay in Hoi An - I really loved the city and it's sleepy vibe and of course the people we met there. I hope to go back one day soon with an empty suitcase as it's a shopping paradise!

Onwards to Saigon ... more soon.

The lantern bridge spanning the river, Central Old Town

Tree-lined streets in the Old Town

The river heading out to China Beach

Having dinner at our favourite restaurant by the river

Looking up the river from the island

Traffic jam, Hoi An style

Cooking school - getting taught the basics!

My Hoi An pancake - not quite to recipe, but absolutely delicious!

You've heard of snakes on a plane ... now for cockroaches on a boat!

Hanoi is a great city, however there is only so much smog and tooting one girl can take. So, what better way to take a break than to jump on a smelly, noisy, tooting tourist bus and head to Ha Long Bay, a beautiful UNESCO world heritage site in the north east of Vietnam. 

We purchased a three-day tour package which gave us one night sleeping on a Vietnamese junk boat (very aptly titled, but more on that soon) and one night in a three-star hotel on Ha Long Bay's largest island, Cat Ba. We were lucky to get a relatively small, friendly and wonderfully diverse group of passengers from the USA, Canada, England, the Czech Republic, Austria, Denmark, Belgium and Peru. A lot of the tours are designed for young backpackers and involve copious amounts of alcohol and 'hookups' which wasn't what we went to Ha Long Bay for - perhaps with the exception of Billy we were all delighted to have a such a low-key group!

Our accommodations were simple and by all appearances, fairly pleasant. The small group meant that there was plenty of space on the boat, even after factoring in the hundreds of cockroaches and the tribe of rats residing in our ceiling. I'm all for wildlife, but the thought of sharing my bed with a number of small, stealthy and exceptionally speedy cockroaches gave me the willies and you will not be at all surprised to hear that no blissful slumber was had that night. The rats in the ceiling were evidently delighted to have some human company and spent much time in the dead of night screeching at each other and having races across the length of the ceiling. That evening Billy was also evicted from the room due to alcohol-induced snoring, so between cockroach paranoia, rat races and pouring Billy out the door it wasn't a particularly satisfying night's sleep.

But, I digress. The trip itself was great - we saw some incredible places including Sung Sot cave: an enormous limestone cave that seemed to stretch on for miles. Despite the fact that the cave has been developed to accommodate large numbers of tourists, much of it seems to be well preserved and, for the most part, tastefully done. I did take exception however to the garish rubbish bins scattered throughout the cave complex. You would think that in a world heritage site considerable effort should be made to blend in any necessary man-made objects such as rubbish bins with the natural surroundings. Not in Vietnam. The rubbish bins were .... giant metal penguins. Classy. 

Late on Friday afternoon we moored around the back of a small island and jumped in some kayaks. We kayaked right around the island and returned to the boat for a swim in the beautiful emerald coloured water. It was incredibly warm and deep, so we decided to jump from the boat which was, in hindsight, better in theory than in practice. The boat was around eight or nine metres high, which doesn't sound like much until you're standing on the edge looking down clad only in a flimsy bikini. Myself, Kristin and two other English girls eventually worked up the courage to take the plunge, with Peter the Danish tourist on hand to photograph the event. I went feet first, got a sinus full of salt water and, for my troubles, ended up with my bikini top around my neck. I decided to go again, and this time tied everything tightly to ensure no unwanted public exposure. However, what I didn't factor in was the slippery deck. We had decided to jump as a group of four but as the other three girls leapt gracefully off the deck and into the emerald waters below, I slipped sideways and ended up tumbling off the boat in a most undignified manner. There were some unrepeatable and most unladylike utterances on my way down, but despite all this I emerged victorious, bikini intact. Job done. 

Our evening was lazy and relaxed, with drinks on the top deck after dinner until late into the night. The following day we moved on to Cat Ba Island, the largest island in the archipelago. After checking into our hotel and having some lunch, we took a short boat ride out to the promising-sounding Monkey Island. We had visions of a large and beautiful island offering white sand, clear water, lush foliage and teeming with wildlife, and we were naturally disappointed when we were told we would have only around one hour on the island. 

As it transpired, Monkey Island is to idyllic paradise as Kim Jong Il is to world peace. We climbed off the boat and found ourselves standing on what was (to be fair) white sand. Unfortunately you couldn't really see this as most of it was either covered with Vietnamese tourists or trash. In approximately five seconds we went from excited to confused, confused to disappointed, disappointed to disgusted, and then finally just bemused. What possessed any self-respecting tour company to ferry passengers to this remote rubbish receptacle is beyond me - by the guide's own admission even most of the monkeys have upped and swam to other islands, which with short arms and legs like theirs would be no mean feat!

We walked the length of the beach, returned and pondered what to do with our remaining 58 minutes and thirty seconds. It was around this time we spotted a group of Vietnamese tourists crowded around a lone monkey in a tree near the water. We approached cautiously and, like the bona fide tourists we are, began to take pictures. At this point one particularly idiotic Vietnamese man decided to try and poke the monkey, or provoke him into doing something - goodness knows what. The monkey responded by baring its teeth, screeching and swinging wildly in the man's direction. I managed to get a mid-lunge photograph before emitting a pretty decent screech of my own and retreating rapidly to a safe distance. 

In short, Monkey Island wasn't what it cracked up to be. We saw two monkeys, enough rubbish to fill a tip and more tourists than Paris in the spring. Despite the dearth of monkeys on the island, the over-abundance of idiotic tourists ensures that the name 'Monkey Island' isn't entirely false advertising.

We returned to Cat Ba and had a lovely evening getting shoulder massages and manicures and watching a spectacular (and fortunately distant) electrical storm whilst sipping cocktails on the waterfront. The next day we re-boarded the Cockroach Express and headed back to Ha Long City via a lovely little floating village.

It might sound like our trip to Ha Long Bay was a bit of a disaster, however that isn't the case at all. Like anything in life you need to realise that sometimes things just won't be up to expectation - this tour was no different. The scenery was beautiful, the people were friendly, the weather was excellent and overall it was a fantastic three days. It's hard to put into words the beauty of the area, so I'll refrain from giving you a full history and instead leave the photographs to do the talking. Enjoy!

Inside the caves on a small row boat - so beautiful!

The boys on their boat with our guide

Inside the cave complex and my attempt at a panorama photo

Kristin and I on the row boat

From the 'what were they thinking' files

Stunning shoreline at Monkey Island

A particularly aggressive monkey lunging at an idiot tourist. Go monkey!

Our lodgings on the Cockroach Express

Jumping off the boat. Undignified fall not captured, thankfully.

Ha Long Bay - the view from our bedroom window. Spectacular!

Good morning Vietnam!

We were awakened at 10.30am by a loud knock at the door. It was Billy, who was up, dressed, fed and raring to go. Bleary-eyed, we dragged ourselves downstairs to take advantage of the free breakfast which finished at 11am, then headed out to explore the city on foot. We were joined by Cristian, a Chilean guy who was also staying in Billy’s dorm room.

Our first stop was Hoan Kiem Lake, situated in the heart of the Old Quarter. We paid our 10,000 dong and headed across the bridge to visit the Ngoc Son Temple which is situated on an island at the northern end of the lake. It was a beautiful little temple but the main drawcard as we discovered was the embalmed remains of a giant tortoise who previously inhabited the lake. It is said there are still other tortoises of his kind in the area but whether this is true is debatable – I can’t imagine that a lake in the centre of a bustling, relatively dirty city like Hanoi would be a haven for tortoises, but you never know!

In a bid to better understand Vietnam’s bloody political history, we headed around the lake to the Hoa Lo Prison Museum. Given the nickname ‘Hanoi Hilton’ by American prisoners in sarcastic reference to its overcrowded and unsanitary conditions, the prison was used primarily during the war to house and torture captured American servicemen in order to elicit information. It was also used to elicit false statements from American soldiers regarding treatment of prisoners by the Vietnamese for as a tool for anti-American war propaganda. Built by the French in the 19th century, the prison occupied almost 13,000 square metres of land and housed hundreds of Vietnamese political prisoners and agitators. What remains of the prison today occupies a much smaller site and offers a glimpse into Vietnam’s tumultuous history that is fascinating, horrifying and startlingly reminiscent of the atrocities of Nazi Germany.

The museum presents many aspects of prison life, some considerably more horrifying than others. We viewed the small, claustrophobic cells in which political prisoners were incarcerated and tortured, stockades in which they were held and, most disturbingly, an enormous guillotine with which many hundreds of prisoners were beheaded. Interestingly, what remains of the prison today is situated immediately next to a large international high-rise hotel in a fascinating juxtaposition of old-day revolutionary ideals and present day capitalism. 

We continued on through the city, meandering towards St Joseph’s cathedral. We stopped for lunch and a drink at a little café called La Place which unbeknown to us was a top pick in the latest edition of the Vietnam Lonely Planet guide. The food was fantastic, the drinks cold and delicious and the staff wonderfully friendly. We had an impromptu Vietnamese lesson from one of the waitresses whilst we sipped on fresh mojitos and iced coffee. It’s tough being a traveler.

After lunch we crossed the street to St Joseph’s cathedral, an impressive old building reminiscent of medieval Europe. The church was beautiful inside, and offered a peaceful retreat from the incessant cacophony of motorbike horns in the streets outside. We emerged from the church next to a school where students were flooding out, greeted by what seemed like hundreds of parents – all sitting astride scooters. It made for quite a sight and made crossing roads in the area nigh on impossible!

Perceptions so far
 

Hanoi is buzzing. Scooters are absolutely everywhere and much like Korea, road rules seem to be a minor concern if not an inconvenience. Cars and scooters toot their horns loudly and incessantly, weaving through traffic and crowds of pedestrians, often whilst delicately balancing an enormous load of goods destined for a market stall somewhere in the crowded city streets. Persistent street sellers hawk some of the most ludicrous goods imaginable whilst the locals crouch on the filthy roadside surrounded by food stalls, small children and mangy-looking animals. The streets are dirty, the air is thick with the stench of sewerage and exhaust fumes and even the leafy green boughs of nearby trees are unable to hide the tangled web of electric cabling which snarls its way above and along the city streets.

Yet despite all this, Hanoi retains an air about it which I cannot put a finger on. Despite the seemingly frenetic pace of life, a sense of calm somehow overrides the chaos and you find yourself content to simply meander along the street and soak up the atmosphere. The roads are in chaos, yet somehow everything seems to work. The locals are incredibly laid back and their countenance is apparent even as you observe what appears to be pandemonium all around you. Hanoi is a city steeped in traditions and culture yet buzzing with activity and rife with change. Hanoi is alive, and I love it.

Our hotel room at the Little Hanoi Hotel

Crazy scooter traffic on an intersection in the old quarter

Hoan Kiem Lake, Old Quarter

First picture together - we made it!

Day One: Farewell to the land of the morning calm

The day dawned clear and warm, and only around one hour after I bid the previous one goodnight. Dragging myself from the warmth of my bed and piling into a taxi at 6.15am I said my final goodbyes to my life in Korea through a sleepy haze. Kristin and I departed Dongdaegu for the last time and boarded the Express bus to Incheon International Airport.

We made excellent time, arriving in just four hours. We checked in our bags, which, contrary to our confident predictions, weighed a ton: so much for packing light. Our flight left Seoul at 2.15pm and landed in Guangzhou, China three hours later. After discovering that there is in fact nothing to do in Guangzhou Airport we settled into a coffee shop to have some dinner and to avail ourselves of the free internet. As it turned out the internet isn’t actually free and, because neither is China, we were unable to access the majority of the sites we wanted to view.  It was a long four hour layover.

Our arrival in Hanoi was smooth – we processed our visas with no problems and managed to locate our driver, allowing us to avoid the taxi touts at the arrivals gate and move swiftly from the airport to the hotel. After sixteen hours of sleep-free travel and only one hour of sleep the previous night, bed has never looked so good.