Vietnam. I was there.

I have finally found both a computer and some time and energy to write about what I've been up to! As I write I am in the town of Dali, in Yunnan Province, China but I shall devote this post to Vietnanm and its shenanigans...

We spent a couple of days in Hanoi wandering around, seeing the sights and eating the food. Hanoi is best described as a complete mess of roads, houses, electric cables, vines, trees, people and mopeds all tangled up together. In the middle is a large, green lake, Hoan Kiem Lake, with two tiny islands and several balloons tethered to the middle. One of our favourite haunts was Highland Cafe where, from the balcony, you could gaze over the lake or at a crossroads just below. The crossroads were fantastically entertaining to watch as from above you could really see the Vietnamese driving style in action. First a wave comes from the left until those they are intercepting push forwards too much and they are forced to stop at which point a new wave begins... All of this punctuated by pedestrians walking straight through the middle. Inevitably we did see one accident where a car hit a motorbike and it was touching to see how concerned the driver was as in China they tend to hurry on... There is a famous story going around of a student who ran over another in his flash BMW and drove off shouting "Sue me if you dare, my father is Li Gang! (the local magistrate)". Charges were brought, but then mysteriously dropped....

Apart from the traffic there were other things to see, including what turned out to be, by far, the weirdest thing I have ever done in my life. Ho Chi Minh, former president of Vietnam now dead, lies in a mausoleum in the north of the city and Becka and I, both never having seen a dead person (she reached Mao's spot 30 minutes too late) decided to go and visit. The tomb itself is a plain, dark grey monument, rather tastefully done, set overlooking a larger square. You line up on a red carpet, you are waved through by smart guards in white, you climb some marble steps, get prodded by a guard for either having your hands in your pockets or behind your back, turn a corner into a darkish room and there he is, waxenly lying in a glass casket surrounded by poker straight guards. You walk around the room, out, down some steps and there you are back outside. With a shiver.

Ho himself wanted to be buried but his wishes were ignored. As the guy, whilst inevitably posessing a less than innocent reputation (let's face it, dirty deals must be done to become a Communist dictator) was nonetheless not quite as murderous as Stalin and Mao, I felt very sad that he was instead an exhibit being gawped at. There is a lot to be said for being laid to rest.

Having said that I have no qualms about visiting Mao. And I suppose I should get Lenin in when I go to Moscow...

We also visited the museum dedicated to Vietnamese history. The only truly notable thing about Vietnamese history is that they were pretty much the only ones who ever defeated the Mongols. The rest of us never fully achieved it but the Vietnamese stopped them in their tracks. Unfortunately they were not always quite as successful with the Chinese, 1000 years of rule there, or the French...

An inevitable consequence of the Chinese rule was the adoption of Confucianism in Vietnam and indeed Becka and I wandered off to the Temple of Literature, a university founded in 1076 based on Confucianism. I don't really have much more to say about this temple. It looked like a temple. With gift shops.

I was far more interested in where we went for lunch-and not just because of the real battered fish and chips I had to eat! The restaurant is called Koto and works by rounding up street kids and giving them training so they can get good jobs in the food business. All of the employees there are former street kids. They are smart, very polite and speak excellent English so I can say the restaurant is doing a fantastic job. I much prefer charities such as this one, which educate the children, to the ones that donate goats or mosquito nets which, whilst seeming a great idea, just traps communities in poverty. We went to another restuarant which employs Koto trainees and it was great to see them getting out of the poverty cycle.

Whilst in Hanoi we did try Vietnamese food on a couple of occasions, although it was hard not to go for the lovely cheap Western food, and I had something called Bun Bo which was bits of meat and vegetables mixed up with noodles. There was a rather unwelcome addition of about a kilogram of peanuts which did not go with the meal and which I had to shovel to one side. So basically my impression of Vietnamese cuisine is not so very different from Chinese, although with less oil. Hanoi, because of its French colonial period, has a small yet significant cafe culture and as well as one place with superb ice cream, we found another where we could sit outside on this narrow street, watching the motorbikes zoom past, with the street lamps hidden behind some vines. (Hanoi does rather give off the impression that the Jungle is Coming Back). It was the first time that I felt I was in an Asia I could recognise from the story books.

The only other episode worth recounting was that I managed to drink a whole bottle of beer down a funnel in one go. In doing so, I was told, I had now achieved Man Status.

And thus we moved onto Ha Long Bay. Becka and I had a few apprehensions before we started this tour as the posters in the hostel were like "skinny dipping yeah!" and we weren't sure we wanted to do that... Our tour guide was 30 minutes late and rocked up looking slightly pickled. We squeezed into a minibus and set off. Samples of conversations overhead did not raise my spirits. My fellow females, dressed in tie-dyed baggy pants and sunglasses, simpered at the pierced, smelly, unshaven males whose main achievement in life was drinking 20 beers in a night. Becka and I cried inside.

The drive was very nice, though, through the countryside. There were lots of buffalo in the fields which despite the time of year and chilly weather were lush and green. Eventually we arrived at Ha Long Bay and the first thing we saw was a boat on fire. It was one of the hundreds of tourist boats in the area and the entire back end was blazing smoke high up into the air. A rather feeble tuft of water was being directed at it, presumably to put it out.

The last I saw of it, it was definitely sinking. Becka and I felt better.

Then we were herded onto our boat, past a Saga tour that had some really rather frail looking ladies. One's zimmer frame blocked the path so we had to climb around.

After arriving at the boat most people headed for the bar. I went onto the top deck and enjoyed the slow crawl through the bay. I should probably explain now that Ha Long Bay is a large shallow, er, bay that as it is basically flooded land, still has the mountain tops poking through. These are all covered in trees desperately clinging on and give a certain Lost World appearance to you and your fellow thousand passengers. After mooring just off a rock with a face like the one from The Scream, a few brave souls decided to jump off the top deck into the water. Considering the water was pretty cold, points to them. Becka, I and some other half sober souls went kayaking and pootled around a cave and a "fishing village". You can guage the calibre of some of our fellow kayakers from the following quote "but where do they shower?".

The night was basically a ploy by the company to spend as much money in the bar as possible disguised as a chance for everyone to be all hedonistic and daring by drinking more than everyone else. Becka and I went to bed instead but didn't sleep a wink due to the very loud music. At this point we were in a very, very bad mood.

After being roused at 7:30am (the company has a very slick turn around timetable I must say) some of us carried on to Castaway Island and others returned to Hanoi. Becka and I had found a couple who were also hating the booze culture and we spent a chilly journey on top deck simmering with resentment. Eventually we arrived at the island, which was basically a tiny beach with a few huts on. I say hut, I mean roof. Nowhere was enclosed. We were going to have a very cold two days.

And they were cold. But, despite my expectations, they were also a two days that I enjoyed very much. We went kayaking and found this little inlet that seemed all peaceful and beautiful until we realised it was basically a fetid swamp and that plus a blonde equals horror movie giant anaconda scenario so we kayaked very quickly out again.  We went rock climbing which Becka loved and I was merely content with. The rocks were very sharp though and our hands were very sore afterwards! There was an English instructor and a Vietnamese helper. We all climbed in helmets and proper shoes but he wore only a teenage scowl and flip flops. Although when it came to try a difficult one he did take it seriously in that he brushed the sand off his flip flops first... We had mounds of BBQ chicken and chips to eat and I felt very proud after our 2nd tour guide said he was impressed with how much food I could eat, considering I didn't look like much. On the second morning, as everyone else was only spending one night and had thus left, Becka and I had the place almost to ourselves. I braved a swim in the sea, which was very cold at first but I got used to it. I paddled up and down, careful not to go too far out in case the first recorded shark in Ha Long Bay was passing by. Becka and the two dogs, Lunch and Dinner, sat and watched me. And shivered. Eventually I crawled out, had an even colder shower, and then curled up in bed with the dogs curled up on me. Nice. A smaller contigent of mostly Aussies turned up and despite an even colder day than the one before we had a good laugh. We climbed up a rather treacherous path/collection of boulders to a lookout hut whereupon I was quizzed on which films I'd watched as it turns out, I have a very poor film education... Not even seen The Matrix! Tut tut. Then another BBQ and a night of silly drinking games before curling up next to one of the ludicrously energetic Aussies to keep warm. There were a pair of them and they never kept still, always running around playing ping pong or something. They had some great stories to tell though, mostly about their encounters with sharks whilst surfing... "Yeah when we saw the second one go by we decided to go in"

And then back to Hanoi, onto a night train to Nanning in China (braving a Vietnamese taxi which is just asking to be ripped off but we got away with it phew), another night train to Kunming (in a compartment with a 6 year old whose favourite game was SHOUTING. I fell asleep and he moaned at Becka that I was sleeping and then Becka got fed up and climbed to the top bunk to sleep as well but he got cross and moaned to his mum that he wanted the top bunk whereupon she said he should ask "Aunty" (Becka) if she would swap whereupon Becka growled "Aunty doesn't speak Chinese anymore"). Then a bus to Dali (this is where we made our first misstep and despite being shown, twice, a busstop to wait at we were told, 10 minutes too late, that we were at the wrong bus station and after haring across town and missing our bus had to buy another ticket grrrr). Then a short bus hop to Dali Old Town and a plod to our hostel.

All in all 55 hours travelling. And we hadn't showered in days. My hair had even begun to dreadlock. We smelt. We were slightly crazy.

It's amazing what a long, hot shower can do...

Mountains, lakes, chicken hunting, horse-riding and roast beef to follow...