Category Archives: Vietnam

We like to take things slowly and retain as much fluidity as possible when we travel. We prefer covering less territory and seeing it well, to ticking off a long list of ‘essential’ stops and moving through like an express train. Further, it’s important for us to retain the option of staying longer than anticipated in places we particularly like, or shorter in those we do not, rather than being shackled to a set itinerary.

The downside to our ‘fluid’ approach is that you can end up spending longer in one place than intended (eg: Saigon for 6 days), and running short of time towards the end of your trip as a result.

Hue was our final destination. If we’d had longer than 19 days, of course we would have gone on to Hanoi, Halong Bay and Sapa. As things transpired, we had less time in Hue than we’d planned – only two days and nights. Turned out it was enough.

The weather was dreary, we weren’t rapt in our hotel, and we didn’t have time to tour the nearby DMZ, which is one of the reasons travellers come to Hue (and this probably accounted for the proportionally higher numbers of middle-aged Australians here than elsewhere in Vietnam).

The main tourist attraction in Hue is the Citadel (an expansive walled-off area once set aside for the Emperor and his entourage). I’d never heard of it, and had no knowledge or interest in the history surrounding it, or the architecture. We decided against signing up for a tour.

Instead, we wandered along the banks of the Perfumed River, crossed a bridge that led to the Citadel, and took an hour’s cyclo ride around the surrounding residential area. Fortunately, my cyclo driver could speak workable English – a rarity outside the hospitality industry.

It was interesting talking to him about the Tet Offensive of 1968, in which North Vietnam forces marched into Hue and claimed it. US forces subsequently mounted a counter-attack, and a bloody battle ensued – one of the worst of the war. Much of Hue was levelled in the bombing and artillery fire (including most of the Citadel, which has since been re-built), and civilian casualties were high. My driver was 10 years old at the time.

As we made our way through the streets, he pointed out bullet and shell holes in the walls and houses, and identified the houses of families who had been killed. I asked how he felt about the American soldiers, and he replied that he “didn’t like the communists or the Americans.” Like many, I suspect, his family just wanted to be left in peace to get on with their lives.

He told me that the father of the other cyclo driver who was ferrying my partner around had fought in support of the Americans.

Here are some photos I took during our cyclo tour.

In the afternoon, we had a look around inside the walls of the Citadel. Not very inspiring. Neither were my pics. Here are the two best:

For me, the most memorable aspect of Hue was the food. We tracked down some tasty and quite bizarre local specialties, but these will be covered in a coming post focusing on our food experiences throughout Vietnam.

Travel, Vietnam

Travels In Vietnam 2011: Sleeper Bus Nightmare!

March 25, 2011 rolanstein 15 Comments

I’d never heard of sleeper buses before I went to Vietnam. I believe they’re a relatively recent addition to the tourist transport infrastructure, and are available in Laos and Cambodia also.

My first experience of this Asian people-moving phenomenon – and, I vow, my last – was an overnight journey from Nha Trang to Hoi An. I was too miserable – nay, traumatised – to record any photographic evidence of this 12 hour nightmare of discomfort, but for the sake of would-be travellers to Vietnam I feel a sense of civic duty to warn you of what awaits if you book a berth on a sleeper bus.

It’s not a bad concept, right? After all, sleeper trains have been around for yonks. Why not sleeper buses? Fully (almost) reclining seats, sleeping your way through the night and thus minimising the tedium of a long bus trip…and it’s cheaper than flying. How bad could it be? What’s 12 hours bus ride for a budget traveller?

Well, lemme tell ya, it’s a goddamned eternity when you’re involuntarily exploring degrees of discomfort you never dreamed existed. See, we’re not talking yer usual double-bunks here. The sleepers are two-tiered, sure, but there are three rows of DBs, and they’re squashed into the confines of a bus that’s not much bigger – if at all – than a normal one with upright seats. So whether you’re on the top or bottom sleeper, you can’t sit up. You have to ease yourself out of prone position as if you were doing a shallow sit-up, and careful with that forehead, Eugene.

Worse, the sleepers are hinged somewhere around your tailbone, and whatever elevation you choose from the limited options available, you’re constantly slipping down off the incline and jamming your coccyx into the hinge corner.

Worse still – much worse – there’s a coffin-like receptacle for your legs, angled downwards to save space. If you’re taller than an average 10-year-old you are not able to extend your legs. There is nowhere else for them to go, so you have no choice but to try to jam them into this coffin thingo. By bending your knees, contorting your feet and manipulating your legs sideways from the hip, wonders can be achieved – albeit at a physical cost mere words cannot communicate.

Adding to the challenge, this damned leg receptacle is wedge-shaped, tapering towards the end so that it is impossible to have your feet sticking up vertically in the anatomically natural position for a prone homosapien. Fortunately, I am double-jointed and was able to twist my feet into a spastic side-on position that somehow accommodated them, although for no longer than 15 minutes before I’d have to haul myself up far enough out of the tapered holster of torture to switch from sideways left to sideways right. If you’re not understanding, take heart, cos neither am I. And I wasn’t at the time, either.

There’s more. There’s a horizontal ridge across the bottom and towards the end of the leg coffin, sticking up far enough to dig into your shins and ankles. The naive hope that somehow, some time during the eternity you’re on board, you’ll find a position that is bearable is quickly dashed by this little detail.

Why is this cursed ridge there? I guessed it was some token safety measure, a sort of foothold to prevent short folk from slamming toe first into the end of the coffin in the event of the bus braking hard. Shame about the rest of us – any sort of road accident would inevitably result in snapped legs, broken toes and far, far worse. These sleeper buses are death traps and I’d be amazed if they are allowed anywhere outside SE Asia.

But now, the final horror, which was mine alone. The sleeper I was initially allotted was not a sleeper at all – it was closer to a fucking luggage rack! There’s only one on each sleeper bus. It’s a short straw you don’t wanna get.

Situated above the toilet, it is crammed into an impossibly confined space, and is so short there is no room even for a leg-coffin. When I crawled on to it and lay on my back, my nose was almost touching the roof of the bus. I had to bend my knees and wrench my legs to the side to fit my feet in against the butt of this crypt. My partner was on a middle top sleeper next to me. She was shocked. I was beyond shocked. I couldn’t talk. Just stared cross-eyed at the roof in front of my nose, and tried not to panic.

I’ve heard it claimed that fate or God or the universe or whatever never delivers us anything we can’t handle. Well, I couldn’t handle this. I knew I wouldn’t last in that rack longer than 30 minutes, but it was a fully-booked bus. What could I do?

I was internally debating whether to stand up in the only space I could see, behind the driver’s seat, to try to push someone’s luggage aside and sleep in the aisle, or to just tap the driver on the shoulder and demand to be let off the bus. My partner’s hoarsely whispered exhortations jolted me out of my reverie.

“There’s a vacant sleeper – just down there. Grab it!”
“But maybe the passenger will still turn up.”
“We’re about to take off. Grab it before someone else does.”
“But…”
“GRAB IT!”

I obeyed. Thank Christ. Or fate. Or the universe or whatever.

A few minutes later, with the bus revving, the driver left his seat and loomed over me with a face like thunder.

“Better?” he enquired sternly.
“Sorry?”
“New seat.”
“Yes. The other one – too small.”
“Happy?” (gruffer still)
“Better, thanks.”

He turned scowling, resumed his seat, and gunned the engine. We began to move off. I reflected that I had probably taken the co-driver’s sleeper, but of far greater concern was that I had been saved from a night of torture – this new sleeper was merely unbearable.

I was soon to contemplate as I contorted myself this way and that how mercies this great could suddenly seem so small. After 2 hours of twisting and turning and easing myself higher, lower, and every degree between, my gratitude to the universe had evaporated entirely.

It was to be a long, long sleepless night ahead, with only the countless thousands of lights from the squid boats off the coast as company.

Travel, Vietnam

Travels In Vietnam 2011: Hoi An

March 24, 2011 rolanstein Leave a comment

Our introduction to Hoi An was promising. After a truly horrific 12 hour trip aboard a ‘sleeper’ bus from Nha Tra (more on that next post), we arrived at 6am and were picked up courtesy of the hotel we had booked via email the previous day. They served us up a refreshing cinnamon tea with cake as a gesture of welcome. Nice. It was misty and mysterious outside, and cool.

We spoke briefly to an early-rising Aussie guest at our hotel, who described the town as ‘magical.’

Indeed, Hoi An knows how to turn on the charm, especially at night, when thousands of coloured Chinese lanterns transform the old town area and river. Kitschy, but enchanting nevertheless.

It’s less impressive by day, but still compellingly photogenic.

(note the bride’s footwear)

We hauled ourselves out of bed at 5.15am one morning to watch the fisherman delivering their night’s catch to the central market. We arrived too late – they were sitting around in their boats having a smoko by the time we got there.

We were still in time to experience the market at its busiest. There were few other tourists around. It was well worth the early start to sample this aspect of everyday Hoi An life. (One of the vendors didn’t agree, waving us away when we bent to inspect her intriguing produce; another objected when I raised my camera to take shots of the basket of live ducklings she was selling). Here are some pics that passed the censor!

Clearly, Hoi An’s old town section is impressive, but the rest is like any other Vietnamese town, and I was aware of a niggling sense of let-down. I was not as taken by the place as the guide books suggest most travellers are. I certainly did not share the rapture of folk posting on the travel forums we had checked out while planning our trip.

Take away the tourist dressings, such as the Chinese lanterns by night and the little touches like the attractive signage in flowing traditional font that graced many of the shops, and I wonder what would be left beneath the facade? Some nice old buildings, to be sure, and a picturesque river – but Hoi An is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and I’m not sure I understand why. Perhaps it’s a simple case of unrealistically high expectations…

PS: In the interests of accuracy and balance, I should add that the two instances of hostility from vendors at the early morning market were the exception in Hoi An, not the rule. Our hotel staff were delightful, and we found other locals friendly. As is the case throughout Vietnam, though, it’s hard to assess how people are really disposed towards you, since most encounters are with shop assistants, street vendors and restaurant wait staff, and are therefore in a business context.

The Boomtown Rap

Category Archives: Vietnam

Travels In Vietnam 2011: Hue

Travels In Vietnam 2011: Sleeper Bus Nightmare!

Travels In Vietnam 2011: Hoi An

movie reviews + occasional other musings