Vietnam

This is the country that I’ve both looked forward to and dreaded equally, known mostly for the horrific war and its delicious soup. It invokes powerful images, perpetuated mostly by some epic movies set here, including Apocalypse Now, Full Metal Jacket and Platoon. Yet there is a distinct element of the unknown, a communist country trying to keep an archaic political system relevant in a rapidly changing modern world.

Passing through the border from Cambodia involves an odd procedure of handing passports to an elderly lady who appears fluent in a number of languages, in turn she passes them to border agents, who wait until a whole stack of passports have been collected before they go to work. After what seems an eternity this stack is passed back to the old lady, who then deals them out to the bemused tourists as she cracks politically-incorrect jokes in their native language. No one knows where to look. As this bizarre scene unfolds there is a constant stream of presumably local people and animals crossing the border seemingly not subjected to any checks. As with many things in Asia none of it seems to make any sense but it works, so we climb happily back on board our bus and head toward the city of Can Tho, our stop off before Ho Chi Minh City.

We are in the heart of the famous Mekong Delta, where the mighty river that runs through a good portion of South East Asia eventually meets the South China Sea. Life for many in this region still revolves around the river, and we’ve come to see the main attraction in Can Tho, its floating markets. We arrive at the boat dock a few minutes before dawn and are met by our guide, a bright young chap by the name of Andy, who even at this shockingly early hour is keen to help us in any way he can. As a side note, this part of the world really sucks if you’re not a morning person. Most mornings around dawn I’ve been awoken by the sounds of roosters, dogs barking, honking traffic and locals yelling at one another. It doesn’t matter whether we’re staying in the heart of the city or deep in the country, this combination never fails to work.

Back on the boat we’re cruising serenely along a large tributary of the Mekong for an hour or so before we arrive at the first market. Old wooden boats measuring from fifteen to fifty feet looking dangerously overloaded with all types of fruits and vegetables, are selling their produce in bulk to smaller boats. Prices are quickly agreed, goods are unceremoniously transferred and the little boats speed off to another market to sell to the public. Not once do I see any cash exchanged. We decide to follow the trail of small boats and floating vegetation which is left behind by the smaller operators as they prune their goods en route to the public market. We’re greeted by a slightly underwhelming scene with about a dozen small boats selling produce mainly to curious tourists. This does not resemble the thriving floating markets that I’ve seen on the Discovery Channel. Our guide purchases a gigantic jackfruit, presumably to feed his family for a month, and we’re off to explore some of the smaller channels of water around Can Tho. This is a rewarding cruise as we catch a glimpse in to the daily lives of Vietnamese people who rely on the river for their living.

Before long we’re in Ho Chi Minh City, thankfully abbreviated to HCMC, or Saigon as many of the locals still refer to it. Although we’ve been warned about it, nothing prepares us for the swarms of noisy scooters that terrorize the city. They’re everywhere, in parks, on pavements, driving through stores, I even saw one in an elevator! There are ten million people in Saigon and over five million scooters. A relatively straightforward activity such as crossing the road is a scary proposition here and most foreigners avoid doing so. The secret is to simply look in the direction of the traffic and step out, whilst avoiding eye contact with the riders. Do not hesitate, stopping in the middle of the road can be literally fatal. The collision rate here must be absurdly high, but without a meaningful transit system, there is little choice but to brave the mean streets.

We spend a morning at the ludicrously named Museum of American Atrocities, which provides a very one-sided look at the Vietnam War, which raged bitterly from the early 1960’s to 1975. Hostilities ended more than four decades ago, but the effects are still visible in Vietnamese society, particularly from the illegal gassing campaigns. The museum is a stark reminder of the brutality of war, the sheer number of lives lost by both sides is mind-boggling and one is left wondering to what end? Suitably depressed we are somewhat encouraged to see a number of American visitors here, many with young families.

Saigon doesn’t capture our hearts so we move on to Hoi-An, a small city located about halfway up the coast of Eastern Vietnam, renowned as the culinary capital of the country. The food here is certainly top-notch led by the visionary Miss Vee, who opened her first restaurant some twenty years ago and from those humble beginnings she’s developed an empire spanning several of the finest restaurants in the city, as well as an internationally acclaimed cooking school. However this city is not just about the culinary arts. We are taken aback by the sheer number of tailors here and we can’t help but join in the sartorial frenzy as clothing can be made to order at a fraction of what we ordinarily pay back home, and as an added bonus it’s ready to wear the very next day.

Largely ignoring the hustle and bustle of Hanoi, we head instead a few hours east to the coast and the breathtaking beauty of Ha Long Bay. Hundreds of jungle-clad limestone karsts, each with a different name, rise majestically out of the dark waters of the bay, spread across an area of 1500 square kilometres. We spend two nights savouring the magnificence up close on a small cruise ship, in what seem to us to be sub-Arctic temperatures, which in reality are 7-8 degrees Celsius, but a full twenty-five degrees below what we’ve been used to over the last couple of months. Our beachwear is ill-equipped to deal with the unexpected drop in temperature but we brave the elements and take smaller boats out on a couple of excursions, including a worthwhile visit to a pearl farm. We skip the hilariously inappropriate scheduled visit to a small beach nearby.

Overall Vietnam left me a little cold, literally and figuratively. As the Lunar New Year approaches we feel that we’d rather celebrate it with a culture that we better understand.