Sapa to Ho Chi Minh City

We left you in Sapa, but now we are in Can Tho in the Mekong Delta, southern Vietnam.

After a morning of chocolate pastries at Baguette and Chocolate Cafe in Sapa, we returned to Hanoi on the overnight train. From Hanoi, we took another train south to Da Nang and Hoi An, before making our way to Ho Chi Minh City further south with some mates.

Our story follows.

A morning with Uncle Ho in Hanoi

Having taken the overnight train back from Sapa we arrived early in Hanoi and had a few hours to kill before jumping on the next train to Hoi An. We headed over to The Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum complex and grabbed some breakfast while waiting for it to open. The Mausoleum houses the embalmed body of Vietnamese national hero Ho Chi Minh, also known as Uncle Ho.

The Vietnamese hold Uncle Ho in high regard for his perceived role as their liberator from the French colonial power and his founding of communism in Vietnam. When we arrived a little after 7am the line was already snaked far back from the entrance.

Perhaps one of the strangest experiences of our trip so far filing past the surprisingly small embalmed body amongst hundreds of reverential Vietnamese went by very quickly and we were out the other side somewhat lost for words. Eli—being the king of conspiracies—is convinced that Madam Tussards had a hand in what we saw.

Boys with scooters in Hoi An

Arriving early in Da Nang, we took a public bus to Hoi An—where we stayed for four days. A quaint little UNESCO World Heritage city, it has quiet streets with many shops selling clothes, jewellery, paintings, and carvings. We found a nice hotel with a swimming pool and free Wi-Fi.

We spent the first day ordering clothes from one of Hoi An’s many tailors. Later, we ate at a makeshift street-side restaurant that served Hoi An specialties, such as cao lao.

The next day the boys—Uryia, Tobias, and Arnaud, all of ex-Castalia fame—arrived from Ho Chi Minh City and were eager to explore. Hiring bikes, we cycled to the Cau Dai beach for a refreshing swim between the crashing breakers of the South China Sea. Our return trip took us through Vietnamese neighbourhoods and a fresh produce market. We even stopped for a spot of badminton with some local kids, although our technique was lacking.

That night we ate once again at a makeshift street-side restaurant. We retired for an early night while Uryia and Arnaud stayed out, ultimately finding a shuttle to an early morning beach party with swimming, free drinks, and a mix of people.

Day three was quiet while the boys recovered from their late night, but day four was not. We rose early for a last minute fitting and then hired scooters. With wind in our faces we motored west for a two hour ride to My Son—another World Heritage temple site. Passing through villages and along motorways, we skilfully manoeuvred around trucks, scooters laden with impossible loads, and an array of animals and drying chilli peppers, corn, and rice.

My Son is a vine clad Cham temple and light on tourists—which is a key attraction in itself. Built in the 4^th century, it was heavily bombed during the Vietnamese war by American B-52s. Restoration is slow, but the scenery is reminiscent of a lost world.

After a couple of hours, we returned to Hoi An before taking an overnight bus to Nha Trang further south.

Boys with scooters in Nha Trang

Fresh off the bus, we quickly found a cheap hotel with bathtubs before heading out on a snorkelling tour between the islands that surround Nha Trang. The sun was hot and the water cool. We jumped from the boat and explored the coral reefs along with the many other tourists taking similar trips. Lunch was a feast of local dishes that were prepared as we swam.

The next day, still high from our riding in Hoi An, we again hired scooters. This time we headed north to find a waterfall mentioned in the Lonely Planet, but well-hidden. Along the way we stopped off at a local fishing port to admire the catch of the day, including a small hammer-head shark. We ate crocodile for lunch at a roadside restaurant. The waterfall was refreshing and fenced by high rocks ideal for jumping. Disgusted by the locals that left rubbish all over the rocks, we made our return trip.

Although the roads were well-marked and smooth, we did lose Tobias at one junction. Focused on the road ahead and the adventurous riding style that he exuded, he failed to notice the turn we were meant to take. Worried, we quickly devised a plan to find him, but to no avail. Finally we headed back to Nha Trang without him, hoping he found another way—which, to our delight, he had.

That night we took an overnight train to Ho Chi Minh City. With five of us, the six-bed hard sleeper cabin was ideal. No one ever filled the sixth bed, which gave us more freedom to misbehave—not that we did.

Ho Chi Minh City

Also known as Saigon, Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) is Vietnam’s southern capital and home to over five million motorbikes.

Arriving early, we found a flash little hotel before joining a half-day tour of the Chu Chi tunnels. Just north of the city, the cramped and dusty tunnels were used by the Viet Cong during the Vietnamese war and earlier by the Vietnamese against French colonisers. For years whole communities lived underground—something that we found difficult for a mere 15 minutes, even though the tunnels were enlarged for tourist purposes.

Returning to the city, we spent the evening frequenting a deserted floating restaurant with an unadvertised cover charge, a poncy karaoke bar with a lift resembling a lounge, and Apocalypse Now—one of HCMC’s trendy nightclubs popular with expats, backpackers, and affluent Vietnamese. This all in a splendid celebration fit for Tobias’ impeding flight to Singapore the next day.

Saying farewell to Tobias, we spent that next day walking the streets. The War Remnants Museum was a sobering reminder of the atrocities of war: torture methods, captured US tanks and fighter jets, and the everlasting impact of agent orange were all on display.

Later, we watched water-puppets tell the Vietnamese story of, well, something as yet unknown. We did find out, however, that bamboo pools are used to make the puppets dance through the water in an intriguing display of creativity, with the support of live musicians and colourful, sparkling costumes.

Next, we day tripped to My Tho in the Mekong Delta, two hours south of HCMC. After the minibus down, we used various small boats to explore the muddied waterways, a coconut sweet factory, and a small orchard offering a limited fruit selection. In a nut shell, the tour was rather tourist-oriented and lacking in authentic experiences.

That night there was an impressive display of fireworks to celebrate Reunification Day—marking the joining of North and South Vietnam after the Vietnamese war. Hundreds of people crowded the streets, most sitting on motorbikes, as they were mesmerised by the display.

For our final full day in HCMC, we visited the Giac Lam pagoda and Chinatown. Later we dined at Fanny Restaurant and danced at Apocalypse Now as a farewell to Uryia and Arnaud before their flights the next day: Uryia to Singapore and Arnaud to Hanoi.

With the last of the boys gone, we got a cramped, fish-smelling minibus to Can Tho in search of the real Mekong Delta.

* * * * *

Soon we head to Cambodia, but our route is unknown. We will let you know when we make it.

Love to all,

xxx