This morning we would be leaving Hoi An for Ho Chi Minh City (formerly known, and still mostly referred to, as Saigon). Following a yummy breakfast of banana pancakes we packed up our stuff ready to set off at 10:30. The airport is about an hour’s ride away – we will be flying from Danang airport, Danang being the city that has stolen Hoi An’s importance as the major port of Vietnam.
Once at the airport our bags are checked in by Rafaele and we take our seats in the departure lounge. To pass the time Darren has given me a gadget magazine to flick through and I find dozens of things that I would love to own but could never afford. I also spend quite a bit of time diary writing as I’ve left myself a bit behind of late, and the hour’s wait soon disappears.
The flight passes without incident and I finish the magazine and do some more writing, and after no more than an hour in the air we touch down at Ho Chi Minh city airport. As we approach the airfield you can already sense that this is a very differet place from anywhere we’ve seen so far. Hanoi, whilst being the capital and very busy, noisey and dirty, still very much has the feel of a different culture about it. Ho Chi Minh City is full of high-rise buildings and digital advertising visible from the air for miles around and somehow feels a little more recognisable.
We board the bus headed for the hotel, around a 45 minute journey, and the city jumps to life in front of you. Cars. For the first time anywhere in Vietnam there are lots and lots of cars. Most of the hotel and banking buildings are huge towering monsters just as in the west, and everything looks a lot more similar to our western idea of how a city should look. Perhaps a slight feeling of London about it even.
The hotel is pretty nice and yet again we’ve been afforded the luxury of one of the best rooms. As it turns out everyone except Summer did actually, so telling people about the dolphin tap on the side of our massive jacuzzi bath lost its edge pretty quickly. With little time to do much at all we await our bags in our room, and no more than 45 minutes after our arrival at the hotel we’re off on a cyclo tour of the city.
I hate riding cyclos. Fact. One poor coughing and spluttering aged man ferrying around one comfortably (ish) seated “rich” western person so that they can see the sights. The whole experience makes me feel really quite uncomfortable. Plus they are slow as shit anyway, though these are at least a bit faster than the chaps in Hanoi. You get some odd stares from people as you are carted about and I am yet to see anyone other than the tourists use them. At least the tuc tucs in Thailand and Laos are also used by locals so you don’t feel like a twat riding one, and they actually save you time getting places.
Anyway, we ride the cyclos around the city and our local guide, a very young, very happy and smiley you man called Dang tells us the history of the Reunification Palace, the Notre Dam cathedral (obviously not the one in Paris), the post office (the ceiling of which was designed by Gustav Eifel who built something in Paris apparently), the opera house, the Caravelle hotel (watering hole for western journalists during the war), the Rex hotel (where during the 60s US officers would host press briefings), the People’s Palace, all in great English and plenty of detail, coupled with a lot of humour. It amazes me how proud the Vietnamese people are of their beautiful French buildings given how they came to be in position.
We also had a look around the War Remnants museum, which our guide book says “contains a graphic pictorial history of the American war”. It certainly does, it’s an incredibly touching place to visit with an enormous amount to see. Our 45 minutes there wasn’t nearly enough time to take it all in. Pictures of American atrocities being commitied, pictures of people suffering the after effects of agent orange (known as containing the most destructive and lethal chemical as yet discovered – a few ml being enough to kill a population of 8 million, and millions of litres of the stuff were strewn across Vietnam). It was tough but necessary to yet further understand the impact of the war on the Vietnamese. All of us went in and all of us were touched by the huge significance of what we had seen in there. Of course you have to have an eye on the fact that this is the Vietnamese story being told, but pictures don’t lie, and American soldiers sitting proud and pleased in front of the severed heads of Vietnamese people, posing for a photograph, is not a story that can be taken in too many ways.
Once the cyclo tour is done with it’s back to the hotel for an hour or two until we meet downstairs to go to dinner. Rafaele gave us a choice between eating at the market or at a place where you grill your own food on a barbecue plate in the centre of the table. The group opted for the barbecue place, with a few of us eyeing the street food idea for tomorrow.
The restaurant looks really good and quite large, and full of Vietnamese people which is an excellent sign. Just as described there are tables everywhere with hot plates in the middle for cooking your own food on. The hot plates themselves are very similar to one I have at home, a cooking plate sitting on a collecting ring with the plate heated by a gas flame. We order a couple of combo dishes and a couple of extra skewers to add to the variety and it is all absolutely delicious, and very very cheap. Dinner for two including drinks being around £8, or 250,000 dong.
After dinner we set off in search of somewhere to grab a drink. As we walk the streets there are hundreds and hundreds of people on motorbikes waving flags, setting off claxons, cheering and shouting and generally looking very pleased and excited. We find out that they won 6-1 against Cambodia in a football match that had taken place that day, part of the SEA (South East Asia) Games for this year, so naturally the folks were rather pleased with themselves. What was great to see was that there was no hint of trouble, agression or violence, and walking amongst these folks (including people riding motorbikes on the pavement) we never once felt even slightly threatened. Everybody was just really very happy.
We decided to go to the Rex hotel for our drink as there was a chance of live music and as we climbed to the 9th floor we found an old chap crooning away, so we were made up. We ordered our drinks (cocktails) which turned out to be expensive, though this was no surprise as this was a 5 star hotel, and expensive here really being only what you would pay at home anyway. Once the old boy had done crooning (typical crooner numbers really) they brought back on a flaminco band who must have been playing earlier, and they were pretty good. They played flamico versions of recognisable tunes, and all in all we had a good time.
Not long before we left we heard the cheering again from over the balcony, and a lot of people went over to take a look. The scene was the same as when we were on the ground, but from up here we had an excellent view of the lights and the people on the bikes. It was incredible to see as the bikes were racing round and round, and then for a few minutes they were still, the bikes not moving but the people still very animated. I got a good 3 or 4 minute video of the action which I’ll try to upload at some point.
Once the action had subsided and the bikers moved on, it wasn’t long before we had finished our drinks and were on our way back to the hotel for a bedtime.