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London to Tokyo Motorbike Ride - Stage 7 - Vietnam
HO CHI MINH CITY, VIETNAM: Having taken a minibus to the main bus depot, Meryl suddenly announced that she'd left her passport back at the guesthouse. For some reason I insisted on retrieving it myself. Meryl says its because I'm becoming a control freak (in a good way, I'm sure...) and I think that she may have a point, it seems a natural development if you're forced into relying on yourself for months on end...but it’s probably more likely that I knew Meryl would get lost and so Neil would have to stay put to look after her. |
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I spent the journey mourning after my bike, resentful that I was reduced to buses for the next few weeks - it's hard to go back once you've been travelling on a bike. I decided I didn't like the way I could basically fall asleep in Phnom Penh and wake up in Ho Chi Minh, with only having to get up once to go through the most rudimentary immigration process.
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Tired and uncomfortable, we piled out of the bus at Ho Chi Minh and straight into the first taxi that would take us to our pre-selected hostel. With the toll on the meter jumping up and up at an uncontrollable rate, we were distracted from properly noticing the bizarrely repetitive urban scenery. After about a half hour ride, our driver obviously decided he'd milked it enough and charged us the extortionate sum shown on the meter, not before trying to rip us off on the dollar/dong exchange rate.
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KFC - but not as we know it! |
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We paid reluctantly and made our way through the rain and ankle deep floods to our hostel, apparently on a next-door taxi-free street. After ten minutes of bad-tempered trudging, we finally located our hostel and with infuriated embarrassment, we found it to be directly across the road from our original bus stand. We'd spent the last half an hour paying a taxi driver criminal rates to take us round in circles before finally dropping us ten minutes walk further away from our destination. And to top it all off, we all treated ourselves to a KFC and mine was absolutely rubbish. Sometimes life is just against you.
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With yesterday's taxi incident and my anorexic spicy chicken wings still darkening my mood, Neil and I decided to clear our heads and get our bearings with a stroll around the city, taking in the sights, lounging in the parks and sampling some choice local delicacies. |
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Should have brought the wellies! |
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With our heads suitably cleared (or so I thought) we all headed off to a recommended restaurant for a nice, relaxing supper. Neil, however, had other ideas. Maybe for attention, a reaction to last night's humiliation, or perhaps even to prove his masculinity to Meryl, that night, Neil decided he'd had enough of 'choice local delicacies'. He wanted glory, and all the songs and women that came with it. Calmly taking our seats in a seafood restaurant where we'd been pre-warned to fearfully avoid anything feathery, Neil, for whatever reason, ordered pigeon.
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Where to eat tonight?
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Neil's birthday (the next day) was a sorry affair, his dreams of gorging himself on lobster and fine wines had been undividedly dashed in one fell swoop of a pigeon. Shackled to the toilet the entire day, he managed only one pitifully short interval to blow out his candles and cautiously eat a slice of cake.
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We were pretty lazy in terms of sight-seeing in HCM, Neil's and Meryl's (who also came down with something) digestive systems being largely to blame for that. We did, however, make it to the rather disappointing Memorial of the self-immolating Thich Quang Duc, or 'Crispy Duc' to his friends. With such an inspirational self-sacrifice to bring global attention to the brutal Diem government of the 60's, it was a shame that the Memorial didn't even show Browne's iconic photograph of Thich Quang Duc engulfed in flames, sitting calmly in the lotus position. (NB. I'd better mention that I stole that crispy duck joke off Neil.)
We did also manage to get to the Vietnam War Remembrance Museum, formerly known as the Museum of American War Crimes. It's a fascinating place with an incredible photographic archive, bringing to life all aspects of the war, especially the horrors. Outside in the museum's courtyard are many interesting American war relics - numerous tanks, a plane, a helicopter and several enormous guns. The most engaging and disturbing part of the museum however, is the section displaying American war crimes and the horrific effect that American chemical weapons had on civilians. Amongst pictures of GIs posing over decapitated heads and massacred women and children, were photographs of victims of phosphorus and napalm bombing, skinless bodies who've often had to live on in agony for the rest of their lives.
The dreadful side-effects of the herbicide agent orange, used to destroy the natural vegetation essential to the Vietcong's guerrilla tactics, are vividly illustrated by two large jars containing pickled still-born babies, both frighteningly deformed from their fathers' contact with the chemical. It's a very disturbing and eye-opening experience that really makes you reflect on the unnecessary suffering caused by war.
To recover from the harrowing pictures of the Vietnam War, and to treat ourselves to a bit of luxury, we decided to try out a spa and massage parlour recommended by some friends. After a certain degree of awkwardness for Meryl, who had to make do with a unisex changing room amongst naked men who couldn't resist a little oohhh and aahhh now and then, we went through to the spa where we were each thoroughly steamed and boiled like an overcooked cabbage. |
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With our muscles softened by the steam and dressed in boxer shorts and a minute dressing gown, we were each escorted to our own private massage chamber. Having been forewarned that this establishment was of the 'rub n' tug' variety, we made sure they understood that special extras wouldn't be necessary (although I can't vouch for Neil...). We settled instead for a very satisfying trampling by the fortunately quite petite masseurs.
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Budget Accommodation |
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| The day after we said goodbye to Meryl (off to tear up Japan for a fortnight) we said hello to my dad who had some business in HCM but much more importantly wanted to see how I was getting on. |
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The 'Chemist' |
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We (often minus Neil who was still quite sick from that pigeon) had a fantastic few days visiting some truly unbelievable restaurants, which were usually out of my budget (although still cheap), checking out the snazzy bars in the city centre and sampling some pedigree Ohio/Saigon jazz. |
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With my father, Bill (C2 1958-63). |
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Back alley |
We even made it back to the massage parlour, where after warning my dad on the protocol, I was surprised to be demanded an enormous 800,000 dong tip from my masseur, sparking suspicion amongst Neil and my dad as to what she possibly could have done to earn such a tip. Nothing, as it happened and she had to settle for 20!
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| I went back to England for 2 weeks sadly to attend a funeral. It was quite a shock to be home all of a sudden, especially given the circumstances, although it was fantastic to see Emma and friends while I was there. |
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The Local Butcher!
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Street Scene |
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I'm now back in HCM though and tomorrow I'm heading to Phnom Penh to hopefully pick up my bike and belongings which I'm terrified will have been stolen. I can only hope everything's where I left it. |
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Street scene |
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| Yikes! This is long. If you've read it through this far you have my personal congratulations! Hope you're all well whatever you're doing. |
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