A note on this posting

I had initially planned to post… well, finish writing and then post… this thing late last week. But a kickabout with some lad down the alley adjoining our homestead led to my celebrating the pictured chap’s below birthday with a bunch of the locals. After a number of shots of locally prepared liquor (I was convinced I was going to become one of those news stories about English abroad who chug ethanol) and some puffing, I didn’t manage to post it, let alone finish it.

Since then, Mountbatten has been nicked. Hilarious. Now get to the rest of the billionaire pedos and their enablers.

The latest blog post starts herein.

I know… I know…

‘I will write the next post in four days blah blah blah.’

It’s been over a fortnight since I committed to that and the time has flown by. I know it’s been too long when the warmly received enquiries about the status of my mortality begin to come in. Admittedly, it’s the same people making said enquiries, and there’s probably a wider question posed about the status of those relationships that their only knowledge regarding my health and whereabouts is fucking WordPress but that’s a digression probably kept between them and I…

Anyway.

Having spent a decent chunk of the last two weeks on tourist laden boat cruises, lounging by a pool, or ticking off many of the tourist sites of Vietnam, I anticipate that this entry will more closely follow a conventional formula of travel blogging. This is unlike the last post (or two if you include the soup thing) which went admittedly a little off base. Thanks to all for the feedback on that by the way- it wasn’t sought and not especially warmly received as compared with the aforementioned queries about my place on this mortal coil. Do keep writing in.

Yes- this one will be much more ‘I went to x’, ‘here’s a photo of me gurning in front of y’, ‘spent z number of days in x’ etc etc. Its not going to be in chronological order as we will start from where I was end of last week and jump about a bit.

So…

(Dress like a) Tit for Tet

Having spent the last hour trying to fix my sodding keyboard and stop it typing the dash key (I daren’t now press it. No there were not crumbs under it. Maybe I use it too much. Bit of a crutch…) the next couple of paras may have an air of anger and frustration. So do let me know if you notice the tonal shift.

I write this part here from Haiphong which is the third largest city in the country although rarely frequented by western tourists. This has led to an even more friendly welcome than we have had elsewhere but also an increase in the number of perplexed looks. It also says a great deal, none of it good, about the lack of effort put in by other westerners to attempt the bare basics of the language when words like ‘hello’, ‘thank you’, ‘happy new year’ are met with excited questions as to how long I have spoken Vietnamese. (40 odd day streak on Duolingo thank you very much. Yep. Duolingo and WordPress. Cutting edge me…)

We arrived here and bunkered down for the celebration of Tet and the lunar new year when much of the country shuts down and people spend time celebrating with their families. Arriving at a beautiful homestay off the beaten track, we received a very warm welcome of cupboards stocked with instant noodles, a fridge full of fresh strawberries, home made mango sticky rice, and red envelopes containing a 50,000 dong bill each.

I ventured out for the day clutching my own set of (KFC branded) red envelopes with some small bills to hand out to any kids we may chat to. Met plenty of youngsters who wanted to try out their English and they provided good practice for my laughably poor Vietnamese. It was a festival of colour, flowers, and carnival food. I made an absolute tit of myself flailing about on a balloon piercing game, and we watched a bunch of folks playing shuttlecock and some older gents playing co tuong.

Having subsequently bought two shuttles of our own, of different weighting, the practice has now begun in earnest. We’ve picked up a few games with a couple of different sets of locals and I can confirm I am proper shite at it.

A further note on this posting

FUCK.

And on and on it goes. First it was being broken myself that curtailed this posting but the last two days have seen my laptop playing silly buggers.

Multiple factory resets, faff arsing about with sticky keys, disabling keys, disabling drivers; none of it prevented my keyboard insisting that I wanted the dash key typed all the time, everywhere, all at once. Pisser. My detachable keyboard is now nothing more than an overpriced screen cover. Super.

Thank God for the IT sellers of Hanoi which allows you, the reader, to continue to enjoy and reflect upon my thoughts and travels.

On my Hue from misery to happiness today uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, uh huh

Right- let’s jump back a couple of weeks and pick the trail up where my last substantive post ended, which was posted from Hue.

The weather was largely shite leading to my first dinner date in with the Colonel since arriving in Vietnam and which came accompanied with a bunch of KFC branded red envelopes; subsequently handed out in Haiphong and which I’ve already mentioned above. Time travel eh? We also found a super restaurant in Hue which served food traditional to the Cham people. It’s not all buckets of chicken you see.

The first full day in Hue was spent trudging around the Imperial Citadel of Hue in the pissing down rain. Whilst it was interesting to see the layout of the imperial citadel as it would have been when inhabited by Viet emperors, much of the interesting history of the citadel is in what was destroyed during the siege of Hue in 1968 during the Tet offensive. The amount of time the Vietcong held the citadel was remarkable, as were the casualty numbers and the sheer number of shells exchanged during the siege. Much of the citadel has therefore been rebuilt rather than being the original buildings.

The following day was a full day excursion to the demilitarised zone (DMZ) which was the official demarcation between what was then Northern and Southern Vietnam. The tour included a visit to the contested hillsides covered so extensively in episode 5 of Ken Burns magnificent documentary series on the Vietnam War and which, incidentally, we had watched the night before sheltering from the rain and eating Kentucky Fried Chicken. It was an ideologically confused 24 hours.

The pride taken in the conquered base, downed helicopters and planes, and seized tanks was remarkable. The tour guide, who was terrific, told us the nickname the northern Vietnamese forces and Vietcong had gifted the American/south Vietnamese small tanks: ‘the democracy machine’ since whenever they were seen on the streets it meant the South Vietnamese were shortly to change their President. The tour also took in further tunnel systems with the most remarkable fauna that instantly shrivelled up when touched and remained in such state for about an hour. This was perfect for signalling to the Vietcong if enemy forces had been moving through the surrounding forests.

The last day in Hue was slightly more unconventional with a trip to an abandoned water park and tandem ride about the place. I wouldn’t be told otherwise and insisted on crawling up and down abandoned flumes making a mockery of my decision to wear white that morning.

 After a morning spent exploring, we took the moped out on a long ride- the longest of the trip up to that point. Long highways, beautiful rice paddy vistas, and the smell of the sea air made for an awesome ride. Unfortunately, it ended with a most unceremonious of ends when, dropping my revs too much at the same time as applying my break, I came to a near complete stop, wobbled, and fell straight off. A very slow, and humiliating, tipping over on to my (still at the time of writing) red raw and bloodied knee. Sigh. We then went for dinner in the most bizarre, stilted seafood restaurant. Great views for the hot red and cracked crab, resembling my knee.

Travelling near and Phong Nha

From the  abandoned water park of Hue and onto the more tourist-oriented Phong Nha which saw several days of cave exploration, boat excursions, hikes, deep climbs up many steps, and bucket loads of sweat exposed through my exceptionally poor shirt choice.

The homestay had expansive views overlooking the river which was itself dominated by the mountain range directly behind it. Not a bad view to wake up to each morning.

The first day, following an evening drinking with some kiwis who were travelling across the entire country on their motorbikes (something of which I am very jealous and determined to do myself in years to come), saw a boat trip into the vast cave network of Phong Nha. It was stunning and I’ve never seen rock (‘THEY’RE MINERALS MARIE’) formations like it. I chose a very poor shirt and was visibly sodden. Sweaty man. I doubt the proceeding night’s beer would have proven particularly helpful.

The following day saw further exercise, this time in the form of a hike through the jungle highlands and mountains. Given the sheer number of unexploded and unrecovered ordinances, it is a criminal offence in Vietnam to hike and walk through the forests if not on a designated path or with an accredited tour guide. The hike led to a beautiful waterfall a dip in which I felt was worthy of the risk of infection to my battered left knee. Totally worth it.

The last day in Phong Nha was an impromptu and slightly random ‘self-guided food tour’ (aka we walked and kept stopping for food). The rice paddies set against the mountains and expansive rivers are truly stunning. It is a beyond beautiful landscape, and I’ve really fallen in love with it. The walk featured an impromptu kickabout with some local kids who, not for the first nor last time this trip, insisted that I was in fact a Chelsea supporter and they were adamant that my saying ‘Charlton’ was a speech affectation on my part. Ended at the pub with cold beer which delivered on it’s word.

Strangers on a train

The train from Phong Nha to Vinh proved a beautiful way to pass an evening was a nice change from the at times endless array of buses and highways. The train pulled into Phong Nha station two hours late and yet got into Vinh about ten minutes early. That’s the good stuff.

Note my excitement at getting the train, knowing we had our own private compartment… like an Agatha Christie novel. Specifically the one on the train. With the murder of the posh, crooked fella who had it coming. That one.

I say ‘private carriage’… About an hour or two into the journey the compartment door was filled with a bunch of kids who, heading from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi, had been on the train for a good 24 hours already at that point. First, they wanted to practice their English, and then we took it turns doing sketches of one another. I came out of it far better than they did given my abject sketch work.

You Vinh some, you lose some

Alighting from the train at Vinh, I negotiated the cab price to the next accommodation with about twenty odd cabbies, none of whom seemed to recognise the address and map location I was clumsily advocating for one of them to take me to. This was the first indicator that something may be amiss and I begun to wonder if the eighteen quid for two nights in a relatively plush looking room may, in fact, have been too good to be true. Half an hour drive later through the quietest beach resort I’ve ever seen and we arrived at the room which was…fine. The town itself was not Vinh city but its neighbour Nghi Khánh. It was empty, the reviews online of each place last being posted about 18 months ago. Oh well. It was nice enough if somewhat post-apocalyptic and ghostly. We later found out from a local (who has lived in Croydon the past five years) that nobody, Vietnamese or otherwise, visits the place outside of the summer season which probably goes someway to explaining the exceptionally good value of the room.

The stop was only for 36 hours so that I could visit the childhood village of Ho Chi Minh which, despite the above, was teaming with Vietnamese tourists getting photographs in the run up to the lunar new year. It was an incredibly well put together historic site, with informative but not overbearing, audio guides to each of the reconstructed homes and buildings, as well as the original well where Uncle Ho would fetch water as a younger man. I left the happy recipient of a pair of rubber sandals in the style of said revolutionary. Decent gift that with which I was chuffed.

That evening we ventured down to Vinh city, and I scoffed fresh Oysters and the best seafood vermicelli I have ever eaten. Given the soup thing I shan’t post pictures nor write a ditty.

Still plenty of time on the Tam Coc

On to Ninh Binh which has been the most tourist catered place in Vietnam that we’ve stopped at. Despite that it was beautiful, and we found ourselves staying in another great homestay surrounded by mountains and with a very chilly but refreshing pool. The host hooked me up with what he was describing as a margarita, but which tasted of little else but pure spirits. So, after that and a short swim taken before I had imbibed, I spent the first afternoon walking it off and then taking a little nap. Dinner ended up being red wine and some cheese that I had stolen from an adjoining table. Thank the good Lord I had taken that time to sleep and walk off ‘lunch.’

The following morning of hiking mountain peaks, after a liquid dinner the night before, was not ideal. My sweat stank like a distillery, it was hot, and the staired climb was perilously steep and uneven. It somewhat reminded me of a southeast Asian answer to Arthur’s Seat with less shit weather.

The last day in Ninh Binh saw an early start for three hours of boat journeys through the caves and waterways of Trang An. The sun was once again beating down and the scenery was genuinely breathtaking. I was very pleased not to be hungover for this one.

Around lunchtime, I drove us on the scooter over to Vietnam’s first National Park and what proved to be the best ride of my life. Stunning scenery, cool dirt roads, more rice paddies set against more cliff faces, quiet with unpopulated roads and highways. Into the park where the place was so still with a constant smattering of butterflies. Truly, truly awesome and very much a reminder of how glad I will be to come back with a proper bike and a few years’ experience under my belt.

The drive back was the worst of my life. Horrendous. Busy highways and motorways, back roads that were teaming with dogs and potholed to Hell, handlebars that didn’t line up with the front wheel and which became apparent doing 70 odd kmh on a straight motorway, and brakes that didn’t respond as swiftly as one would like. Awful.

I didn’t feel comfortable getting a massage to relieve the stress so opted instead for my first haircut since October. A decent job except for the back about which the less said the better but short to say anyone walking behind me will get to experience the sight of the Vietnamese mountain ranges. Shonky.

Taking the Haiphong way round

Back into/onto Haiphong where this blog post first started, and started being drafted, in what feels I’m sure to both writer (me) and reader (you) like a lifetime ago.

Let’s keep this brief: had an absolutely stonking local speciality of crab noodle soup (please see previous post for photos of that sort of thing), had a fantastic time celebrating Tet (as mentioned above), went out the next day somewhat underdressed but by accident it turned out that my ‘judo’ t-shirt could not have been better placed…

…took the scooter and drove to Do Son beach, had my first run since my (melodrama alert) near fatal 10k and my first run since my (decidedly not near fatal) leg scrape. Awful run of 4.1 miles. Graphic description of said run as follows: Had to stop to have a wet, curry, instant noodles, coffee, shit; nearly got hit by a bus; chased by a dog bearing it’s teeth; and new running vest rubbed my armpit such that it blistered. Cracking views mind.

If you’ve read this far… the wash up          

Right. Let’s bring this thing to a close.

I’ve been reading:

• ‘A time far past’ by Le Luu. Really wonderful book that covered the broad sweep of Vietnamese history through the life and loves of one man.
• ‘If I die in a combat zone’ by Tim O’Brien. Second O’Brien of the trip and very different to the first. Still brilliant.
• ‘The General Retires and other short stories’ by Nguyen Huy Thiep. Bizarre and a tad repetitive. Some enjoyable but not entirely convinced.
• ‘The Sympathizer’ by Viet Thanh Nguyen. Brilliant book- very dark and very funny. Reminded me a lot of Joseph Heller and ‘Catch-22’ but much easier to understand and therefore easier to find funny.

Have also now finished Ken Burns epic series on the Vietnam War; as well as moving onto but then abandoning the third series of Freddy Flintoff’s cricket documentary. Not nearly as good as season’s one and two.

‘Bridget Jones Baby’ was as shite as I remembered it and has aged terribly compared to the first two.

I’ve also been playing Resident Evil 7. I’m a Resident Evil fanboy and have not yet played 7 and 8 despite my love of the franchise. It’s terrifying and I had to stop playing in the dark with my headphones on as catching sight of myself in the mirror terrified me [obvious joke here is obvious.]

Now at the final Vietnamese stop in the capital of Hanoi and it’s been a great two and a half days so far. I’ll write a much shorter post about that when we depart this time next week. I swear to God I will.

The city seems fantastic and I’m looking forward to getting stuck in as we eagerly await the arrival of Young Harold/PB this evening.