Vietnam Adventure - Saturday 1 March 2008

From Nha Trang to Ho Chi Minh City by Vietnam Airlines, quick and efficient and straight into the arms of the Immigration police, Cathay Pacific refuse to book me onto the flight to Hong Kong because my visa has run out.

I follow the young arrogant Immigration officer to his superior. ’Why are you still here?’ he asks. ’ I was really sick and had to change my flight, this was the only one available’ I can hear myself pleading ingratiatingly. He says something in Vietnamese to the younger man who then  says I have to follow him again.

We go back to the airline desk, they check me in. I pay him and his three buddies $10 each, which goes straight into their back pockets. If I had been blonde and forty years younger I might just have tried to bat my eyelids!

It’s goodbye to Vietnam, I met some wonderful people, found inner strength I didn’t know existed and came away with an itch I can’t scratch. It’s called wanderlust.

The last few days have been rather hectic, fast running out of time and not really giving myself time to enjoy it. Riding down the length of the country takes longer than I allowed, but I have totted up 1650kms in the north on my lovely little Minsk and 1500kms from Hanoi to Nha Trang the latter on a bike whose brakes in the wet were non existent and whose lights were on permanent ’daylight saving mode’.

No mechanical problems apart from a spark plug on the Minsk and forgetting to oil the chain on the scooter.

It is just a shame that Vietnam has suffered the coldest winter for 50 years, I would have liked to have had a tan at least!

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Vietnam Adventure - Friday 29 February 2008

It has been a blast down the coast, past bill boards advertising the biggest most luxurious holiday resorts you could imagine. If you want to go to Vietnam go now, because in ten years it will look like any other luxury resort, the building boom has started.

My visa ran out yesterday and the hotel had to be ’persuaded’ to let me register. I roll into Nha Trang where I buy a ticket to fly to Saigon tomorrow. The Honda has had one last trick up her sleeve, just to annoy me.

Most scooters in England have a variable belt system, I just assumed this was the same, I didn’t even look at the transmission when I bought the bike. Riding along today there was an alarming banging coming from ’down in the nether regions’. I pulled up at one of the many repair shops that line the streets and with a noisy miming act I try to make the mechanic understand there is something seriously wrong.

He undoes the chain guard, oils and tensions the chain and smiles.

There is a small orphanage in Nha Trang who now possess the scooter and I hope they have more love for her than I did.

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Vietnam Adventure - Thursday 21 February 2008

I got lost yesterday. Totally confused, no map, no GPS, no sunshine, no sense.

This is why I find myself at My Lai, the site of one of the most horrific massacres of the Vietnam War. U.S. troops systematically killed a total of 504 women, children and old people on March 16 1968 in the peaceful village and the surrounding area. They then ploughed the area to cover up their atrocities. What made it worse was that it was documented by an American war photographer who followed and recorded their every move. These photographs are on display in the museum which has been erected on the site.

In the museum I was the only European at that time, although it is visited by many American ex-servicemen. There was tangible hostility from a group of visiting Vietnamese, so much so that I held up my hands and said very loudly ’I’m English, it’s nothing to do with me’.

With true woman’s logic I blamed the scooter, which I had come to loathe. It was the Honda’s fault I had landed up here probably giving myself nightmares over the photographs for weeks to come and a sore butt from the awful riding position. Don’t even try and understand my sentiments, I wanted to be at home, away from the rain, the food and the filth, I just wanted someone to share some of the burden with and all I had to talk to was a flipping Honda automatic.

It was going up the road that the Honda let me into a secret. There are four gears, all down. To stop you just use the brakes and come to a rest in fourth gear. Then you press down again and there, in all its glory, is neutral. Oh, how I miss my own bike!

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Vietnam Adventure - 20 February 2008

Leaving Kon Tum on Highway 14 and then turning off onto road 24 gives me one of the best motorcycling days I can ever remember.

The scenery is once again, spectacular. Mountain passes first the Lo Xo, then the Mang Den and the Vio Lac, the clouds, though low and wet are actually warm it is a strange sensation to say the least, enveloped in a Turkish steam room the jungle canopy closing overhead.

The road could almost be a German black forest highroad when the jungle gives way to pine forests and then, in the middle of nowhere the most amazing building complex I have ever seen.

Enormous private houses, hotels, motels and cafes; a landscaped lake complete with Japanese style footbridges. Luckily for me, the chief surveyor speaks excellent English and over a coffee he tells me the story.

It would appear that sometime ago, local hill tribes became aware of a strange phenomenon, a lady dressed in white, floating around the trees, who said her name was Mary, she was the wife of Joseph and mother of you know who. One of the tribesmen attacked the ghost but his machete went straight through her. He himself died later that night. Miracles started to happen and before long people were visiting the area, especially young couples who wanted to conceive. They came from as far away as Saigon. It soon became apparent that there was nowhere for all these visiting miracle hunting people to stay and so one business man decided to help them.

Now are you being as cynical as me? What we have now is a massive complex in the middle of a forest surrounded by villages whose people live in the most appalling conditions. They drink, wash, defecate, clean motorcycles and water their animals in the only supply available, which is now being diverted to fill the landscaped lake. They have absolutely no chance of ever being able to even afford a drink at one of these upmarket watering holes. Somebody somewhere is either very clever or very stupid and I rather think it will be the former. Create a legend then service it.

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Vietnam Adventure -Tuesday 19 February 2008

Heavy rain as I head towards the Central Highlands. Highway 15 is a decent road, sectioned concrete in parts, widened at some time, just the occasional landslip to keep concentration to the fore. My gloves fall to pieces, my feet begin to look as though I have been in the bath for 24hours they are so crinkled, now I understand why the Vietnamese tend to ride their bikes in flip flops!

Pushing ever south I have a feeling I am not going to make it all the way to Saigon before I have to leave the country and begin to ponder where I can make a hasty retreat from and more to the point, will I be able to sell the bike.

The jungle clad hills of the Ho Chi Minh Trail would be spectacular if only I could see something, the weather is being unkind again with heavy rain. It doesn’t stop the local pastime of panning for gold in the river though, I don’t envy one woman up to her waist in the water, she must have drawn the short straw that morning. Towards Kon Tum the road is long straight and boring. It passes through areas infamous for the battles of thirty years ago. Dien Bien Phu is haunting in it’s emptiness. There are still searches carried out here for skeletons, though they seem mostly Vietnamese that are found, no Americans. The war cemeteries are everywhere, it is quite a depressing area though Kon Tum has a reputation for being a friendly town the inhabitants being curious towards strangers. It was here I caused two scooters to collide in the market place when the riders being too interested in my presence, ploughed into each other. I beat a hasty retreat behind the pork stall!

The hotel I have booked into for the night looks acceptable, no Hilton but it has water, a loo and a bed with a clean sheet. One sheet seems the normal way to do things here, so I have been using my sheet sleeping bag quite often, just pulling the top cover up while the weather is so cool.

Tonight I find that the rain has got into my rucksack and the plastic bag the sleeping bag was in has leaked. I have one very wet sleeping bag. Needs must and I have to pull the blanket up over me. If I had thought to sniff the blanket when I checked the room I guarantee I wouldn’t have stayed here. The smell was appalling. A mixture of stale vomit and dirty toilets, though it actually looks quite clean, has me deciding to sleep fully clothed. Quite an assett when the door knocking began at around 1.a.m. The local prostitutes were out in force. It seemed like hours before they had serviced every room (except mine I hasten to add) but they did me a service, lack of sleep meant I could keep an eye on the cockroaches and the furry scampering of the local rat population that seemed to use my room as the main highway. All this for $4 a night - a bargain in entertainment!

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Vietnam Adventure - Sunday 17 February 2008

Why did I think that going south was going to be, weather wise, any more pleasant? It's not of course, it's either precipitating with vigour or low cloud,  visibility nil and distinctly cool.

Highway 1a from Hanoi south towards Vinh has to be the worst road ever travelled. Busy, filthy, noisy; lorries blasting on their horns every few seconds, because that is good driving - let the scooters and cyclists know you are going to overtake them. Aghhhhh. I have to do it though or I will never get anywhere at this slow speed.

The scenery it has to be said, on the way to Ninh Bihn is absolutely stunning, even in the cold damp conditions  Whilst Halong Bay has limestone peaks thrusting from the water, here they reach for the skies from a sea of green. Water buffaloes, children on bikes who literally squeal with delight, waving enthusiastically when they see me, older people cheerful and friendly. Every bit of Vietnam here, is how the tourist brochures portray the country. Beautiful, lush, stunning.

What a change towards Vinh though. Vinh is hardly a sparkling town. Grim grey ugly soviet style buildings only softened by newly planted trees and landscaped lakesides. The town was obliterated in the early 50's by the French, rebuilt and flattened again by the Americans in the early 70's. The Russians helped rebuild it after that, hence the grimness. The people here have suffered so much war damage, both physically and mentally it makes me wonder how they have the energy to summon up a smile and a wave. Being English must be a help though!

But Vinh is where the Ho Chi Minh Trail starts, where the supplies were unloaded at the port before being taken south, crossing and re crossing the Laos border. I have to stay firmly on the Vietnamese side though, the last thing I want is trouble with the police, I will have enough of that no doubt later!

Talking of the police, I haven't actually seen many, I certainly haven't been stopped, even out of curiosity; unlike Russia where 15 or 20 times a day was normal, interest here is hardly stirred. It's a grim area though, hardly anyone speaks English, even the numerous dogs give me an appraising eye, it's the sort of place I wish I were two. Somebody to watch the back and the bike!

The bike and  Mr. Honda won't like me for saying this, is the most boring piece of equipment imaginable, it shouts monotony and my fingers keep reaching for a non existent clutch, but it cost $200 and will probably sell for $140. It just rattles along, the brakes work, the engine uses a little oil but the suspension works, what more could you ask for? The Minsk was $500 and sold for $450 so the cost of travel is pretty cheap.

I met a Spaniard from Lanzarotte in Ninh Binh, who had come south from China looking for warmer weather before he headed back. He told me it was so cold a few weeks earlier that he couldn't even eat anything on the street. Outside catering had been suspended because of the severe weather conditions. We had a riotous meal together, he was so much fun. He told me I was the first 'traveller' he had met on the road so far, though he had seen many 'tourists'. I will admit here to feeling a glow and gave the scoot a pat to make her feel better, she appreciated that and struggled valiantly up and down the mountain roads when we headed west into the cold and wet again.

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Vietnam Adventure - Friday 15 February 2008

I have been processed. I briefly attained the status of 'tourist' and came out alive.

Now this is a bit of a novelty for me, always usually being as free as the wind, but the only way really to have a look at Halong Bay is to do it on an organised trip. How organised I hadn't realised until 17 of us were told we had 45 minutes to climb a mountain and be back on the beach, 25 minutes to sit in the small boat while we looked at a cave and lunch and dinner would be served promptly. Oh dear!

Had it not been for the sheer enthusiasm of the American contingent I might have been at screaming point. It was however, a delightful experience.

Picked up from the hotel, 4 hours on a bus, straight onto the Chinese junk, lunch, cruising around the stunning limestone karsts that are Halong Bay. Sea food dinner, drinking, up for breakfast, more sea food, more cruising, sea food for lunch, back to the jetty 4 more hours on a bus - see what I mean about being processed? Once done never to be repeated. Interesting but only as a diversion to the main goal of following the Ho Chi Minh Trail southwards.

Swapped the Minsk for a scooter - don't laugh, it has two wheels and goes where I point it, south.

With any luck I should be in the sun soon. Just one small problem has arisen, my visa runs out 2 days before I fly home and having extended it once that is all I am allowed.

Hmmmmmm

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Vietnam Adventure - Monday 11 February 2008

If anybody were to ask me what is the worst thing about travelling alone I might have said at one time, being ill and no one to help.

Well I've been there, done that and can tell you that is not the worst thing.

The worst thing is putting your flipping glasses down and not being able to find them!

Re reading my last diary entry I must have felt low, 'cos I just wanted to go home. What a load of codswallop. I have left the loo behind, on reflection the situation in the house with the sacrificial chicken etc., couldn't have been so bad because the girls were watching satellite TV as though it was an everyday occurrence. I must have been having an off day!

I leave for Halong Bay in the morning and then after my transport is sorted out (it's goodbye to the Minsk now - not suitable for going down south on) I shall be on my way on the 1800kms back to the sunny Saigon (I hope the sun is still shining because I haven't seen it for a month)

Travelling I have decided is not about enjoying yourself, it's about endurance, it's about trying not to miss the cooking, cleaning and shopping.

I have pushed to the back of my mind the longing to have my hands in soapy suds or brandishing the toilet brush; and if you believe that load of twaddle you will believe anything!

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Vietnam Adventure - Friday 8 February 2008

There are a few sore heads today and I have an upset stomach and all that goes with it. We leave after another feast of which I eat absolutely nothing and the family seem sorry to see me go. The daughter who has been practising her English on me for the last 2 days passes on my thanks. They are a wonderful family and they have shown me such hospitality I was glad I took the trouble to buy the special Tet present (a food hamper) and give the traditional gifts of the money in envelopes. (I was given one from them too)

The ride to the next homestay is a little fraught on the roads, with drunk riders of motorcycles, three and four to a bike hairing around corners, overtaking on blind bends and generally having a ball. Accident rates will be high today, if there were any hospitals around here I bet they would be full!

The home stay for the night is one that I found accidentally on my first foray to the north east. It was a bit on the scruffy side then, the food leaving a lot to be desired and things have not changed. However the welcome is friendly and as my upset stomach is progressing nicely thank you very much at least it gives me an excuse not to eat more than an orange.

Tang explains to me that the man of the house is a tribal chief and the spiritual leader for the area. He has a very important position, at the moment it is horizontal as are most of his buddies. This Tet holiday is okay but excessive eating and drinking is the norm - heaven help their livers!

The events that happened next sit uncomfortably in my mind, almost frighten me, so I am writing them down to perhaps, exercise the ghosts.

Three of the men in the house are from outlying villages, come home to celebrate with the family. They are all very drunk. One of them from high up in the mountains has never seen a European woman before and he takes a fancy to me. He wants to touch my skin, chat to me, though he is spitting and slavering and I try hard to hide my revulsion. He is every woman's nightmare, a creep with lecherous thoughts coming out of his very being. For the first time in my life I feel under threat.

'Face' is everything to the Vietnamese so I edge away and pretend I don't understand his intentions. I ignore him and begin to talk to my guide. This country bum (and that is not racist or sexist!) decides to show bravado and grabs the sacred text book and opens it. Now this is a big taboo. If you open the text book it would seem, unless you can memorise everything on the page in one sitting, you have offended the spiritual leader, who has the book in his keeping. The penalty is that a chicken must be provided by the offender this is then sacrificed, plucked, cooked and eaten.

Now my drunk lecher is being a pest and I leave the room and shout to Tang to come outside. I tell him in no uncertain terms I am not happy with the way things are going and unless the man is sorted, I will get on the bike and ride off to somewhere safe. This causes deep embarrassment to the tribal chief and while I cower in the women's quarters the man is despatched out of the village. Within the hour the man's elder brother comes to our hut profuse with his apologies. I feel like shit, spoiling the party for them but uneasy for my own safety. The drinking continues and the penalty of the sacrificial chicken is brought up.

Keeping in mind I have had absolutely no alcohol, my mind is crystal clear, things take on the aspect of a nightmare.

Villagers come into the hut, somebody has brought drums and they start to beat rhythmically; the singing and dancing begin and the chicken is brought, panic in every squawk while it is paraded round the room before it's life is ended most horrifically. All the time the two young daughters sit in the corner watching satellite TV totally untouched by this performance. Bizarre.

'You should go to bed now' Tang tells me, which has little comfort when everybody lives and sleeps in the same room but I take his advice and hide behind the curtain that is my bit of bedroom. The noise is deafening, the laugher manic, I plug in my MD player, turn the volume up and the Travelling Wilburys block out the mayhem that ensues.

I don't sleep at all and the next morning I can't wait to leave this house. Tet has its downside, the excessive drinking, the cruelty, the rawness of the life. All of a sudden I just want to be at home.

What a wimp - failure again.

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Vietnam Adventure - Wednesday 6 February 2008

It is the eve of Tet and we have had an absolutely brilliant day motorcycling through stunning scenery on challenging roads.

Last night I had some real hard thinking to do. Yesterday it had been so unbelievable, so frightening, so exhilarating but another 60kms of even worse road was beyond me. Ok, so I am a failure. I felt one too, all you off roaders would revel in these conditions, but the fear I experienced yesterday will be with me for a long time. I didn't want to push my luck so to speak. So I looked at the map and asked why we couldn't go the 200km loop around instead of the 60km straight run. He looked downcast, but then - he had to get his 'second mum' back in one piece and agreed we would go that way.

The excitement in the air was tangible, riding through the villages people are waving and laughing, a young man on a Honda 100cc shoots past me as I am pootling along looking at the scenery and sends me a cheeky grin.

Ouch! No way is he getting away with passing me! I give chase and the Minsk screams into life blue smoke pouring from the exhaust. He turns and looks at me, mimes a head down bum up race and we are off! Hairpin after hairpin I chase him, he might know the road but his style is minimal and reeling him in becomes a mission. If there are any buffalo on the road he gets to hit them first. I pass him and admit to a shout of joy as I leave him in a haze of blue smoke. But then woman sense comes to the fore and I slow down and wave him through. The deed is done. England 1 Vietnam 0.

Tang comes up alongside thumbs up, the camaraderie of motorcyclists has no language barrier.

Arriving at the home stay the welcome from the family is warm and spontaneous. Within half an hour I am coerced into planting rice seeds on large sheets of indented polythene and patting them down with mud. I was having such fun, Tang told me because of me joining in they took me into their hearts.

All through New Years Eve we ate and drank, small amounts but they can make it last for hours. Sitting on the bamboo mat became purgatory and the wife and I compared ailments, aching legs and backs. I watched the ceremony for welcoming the spirits of the dead back and let the New Year in with the family.

The next day, New Years Day, we had more feasting and drinking to get though before Tang suggested we go with the family to the Temple/Pagoda for the ceremonies there. We would go on the bikes he said. There were 10 of us and 3 bikes. I said I would take the wife on the back of me so with no more ado, 3 girls got on one scooter and Tang piled 4 children onto his bike, one in front, two on the pillion seat and the last one on having to sit high up on the on the tool box on the rack.

It was a sight to frighten the living daylights out of the HSE and the DSA at home and I shall plead not guilty if challenged. The old lady was wearing flip flops and as there were no rear footrests on my bike these flopped and flipped about so much that I suggested she put her feet up onto my thighs.

We went to the Pagoda, then on to the relatives houses where more food and drink was consumed, with no exceptions I was welcomed with such warmth I felt so humble. The less people have the more they want to share - Mongolian experiences again. The amount of rice wine the old lady consumed had an interesting effect on her feet on the return journey. Her legs seemed to take on a life of their own.

There are some more European motorcyclists due to stay tonight but I feel that they have missed out on most of the fun.

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