Following our early night we’re up bright and early and pack our things into the day room, for tonight we board the train to Hue. After breakfast we set off for Ho Chi Minh’s mausolleum.

On the bus on the way there I begin to wonder what lay in wait. I’ve never seen the dead body of a real person before, and I don’t quite know what to expect. As we approach the area in which the mausolleum lives there is an air of seriousness about the place, guards everywhere, people in orderly queues being shhhshed. As we get closer we are ordered into two queues and asked to be silent. As we get towards the entrance of the building the guards now have bayonets. Clearly security is taken very seriously here. I later discover that the guards here, much like the ones who adorn Buckingham Palace, are the elite. Odd how the best of the best are chosen to do jobs where essentially they will never have to do anything, whereas the rest are sent off to fight. As we weave around some corners and up some stairs I am told off for having my hands behind my back.

All of a sudden we’re in. Ho Chi Minh’s body, despite his wishes to be cremated, is shown in a sealed glass display case in the centre of the room as people, in their pairs, walk around him to take a look. No photos are permitted understandably. His skin is pale, but lit with an orange coloured light giving him a warm look. It is amazing how well preserved he is, still in a condition which cannot be far away from how he looked at the time of his death. Like a waxwork amost.

Apparently there are only three bodies preserved in this way in the world, and all of them are communist leaders – Ho Chi Minh, Lenin and Mau Tse Tung. The body is kept cool during the day and into freeze overnight, and for one month a year restorative works are made to ensure that he continues to look in peak condition.

The emotions which it evoked are hard to describe. Being so orderly marched in silence in and out of the mausolleum added to the experience, the cool air in the room where the body rests, the body itself. There is certaiy an eeriness about it all, but not an unpleasant one. A man who did so much good for his people and was so humble and kind, it is certainly a privilege to be able to see him, but I feel bad that his wishes were not honoured. For the Vietnamese people, they decided that it would be better to give the people the opportunity to pay their respects to Uncle Ho and to be able to see him for themselves. He’s certainly a popular attraction – there were hundreds and hundreds of people in line to see him during the time we were there, there must be thousands a day who visit.

After seeing the man himself we are given a tour of the presidntial palaces where he lived. He was offered to live in a huge palace which the French built, but this was a little too grand. He lived and worked for a short time is a smaller house which you can see into the windows of, his tables, chairs, books, crockery, radio, all of it still in place. Just across the lake is his house on stilts which the government built for him as the palace was too grand. He lived a very simple life with basic amenities, and again his house on stilts still has everything in place just as it would have been: telephones, his hat, his bed, tables, chairs etc. Again it is very much a privilege to be able to see.

As we are leaving the complex something of a lighter note happens, my celebrity grows yet further as people are taking pictures, more pointing, staring, giggling etc. Steven, also a tall lad, is asked to pose for a photo as am I, which we oblige with suitable amounts of embarrassment. Climbing down from our new status we go for lunch at KOTO.

KOTO finds disadvantaged young people and trains them, helping them to find careers in the hospitality trade, much like Makphet in Laos helps people there. The lunch is great and we fill up nicely ahead of our train journey in the evening. During the lunch Darren is presented with a birthday cake made by the folks of KOTO, which all agree is bloody delicious, and better than the seasonal fruit salad that the set menu offered. Darren is suitably impressed and embarrassed which is the perfect reaction. He also had no idea anything at all had been planned.

Following our slap up lunch we stop by the Fine Arts Museum which is close by. Here there are lots of ceramics, paintings, carvings, sculptures and more which are displayed. Some items are 1000s of years old and others date from the 20th century. Some of the work is incredibly intricate, my favourite stuff being the carvings and woven artworks.

We move on from the museum to the old prison in what is turning out to be an afternoon of culture. Most of the prison has been demolished to make way for other new buildings, but a small part remains which has been turned into an exhibit for the public. Originally built by the French to house polictical prisoners during the French occupation of Vietnam in the early 20th century, the Vietnamese themsves later used it to house American prisoners of war during the American war. The most recognisable (currently at least) name seen is that of recent republican candidate John McCain who was a pilot captured during the war. His clothes that he was captured in are displayed and there is an image of him having wounds treated by Vietnamese medics. It is clear from everythng we saw that the Vietnamese treated their American prisoners far better than they themselves were treated in their own country by the French. The Americans are shown playing basketball, pool, music, writing home, cooking Christmas dinner. The Vietnamese however are depicted in chains tied to hard areas, starved of food and clean living conditions. There is a guillotine still in good working order which was used to behead those that broke the rules during the french occupation. It is an incredibly touching experience and there remains much for me to learn about the history of Vietnam, but visiting that prison certainly gave me an awful lot more than I ever knew before.

We leave the prison a little tired, perhaps from the walking or perhaps from the holiday itself, but we go for a coffee in a place which if it said Costa outside wouldn’t have looked out of place. It’s nice to be able to sit in a comfy chair for half an hour and relax, even if all you are relaxing from is seeing stuff. I think mentally this trip has a lot to take in, so the mind can tire easily.

Having hitched a cab back to the hotel we collect our luggage and sandwiches (ordered just before lunch and delivered to the hotel), avoid the lady selling hats for one last time (though Steven has already fallen foul of her persistence) and board the bus for the train station for our overnight trip to Hue.

This train is much smarter just from the outside than the last. Thankfully we are also in the best rooms in the train which ought to equal comfort. Once we’ve rammed our bags under the bunks it’s not long before the train gets going.

Rafa tells us that the bar carriage is right down the other end of the train – we are in carriage 12. We’ve also bought a shit load of booze with us to drink away the journey as it’s Darren’s birthday, so we’re not sure how we can play it in the bar. We bowl down to the front carriage to see what it’s all about, wading through the various different classes of cabins, past the area of the train where folks will be sleeping in no more than reclining chairs, some even on the floor as there don’t appear to be enough seats. Finally we reach the bar carriage, which is not as wild west as the Bangkok train, but still a bit rough. The beers are also only coke can sized and the selection not fantastic, but I grab a local beer anyway.

Before long Darren and Rafa are engaged in a heavy but not too serious discussion about governments and war, and the ladies and Barry and chatting over the other side. Pretty soon the ladies decide it’s a little too loud for them and retire back to the cabins, and Barry is left a little isolated over the other side of the train. The carriage is so loud that I have trouble hearing the conversation next to me (though of course that’s not that unusual) so it’s impossible for Barry to join in and I feel a little bad for him. It’s then not too long before he retires too. Note to self, next time try harder to engage.

A strange concept, the bar on the train has a last orders and closing time, I can’t quite fathom why they are not happy to stay open all night if folks wants them to. Anyhow, we’re ejected and we go back to our cabin where we find Gaynor, Mrs Tom and Summer all deep I conversation. Gaynor pops off to bed (and I think Barry has already gone to bed too) so the rest of us pile in and get the after hours drinking going, and we teach Rafaele how to play chase the lady. Beieng the way he is he immediately tries to go for the perfect hand but we quickly snuff out his plans.

After a few rounds of cards we all begin to tire, and with Summer actually managing to pull the perfect hand none of us have any chance of catching up, so we sack it off and go to bed.

Message ends.

Having been told to rise for 8 we all tip out for breakfast and the boat starts moving. No omlettes today, though there are some very well done fried eggs in their place. Feeling a little unwell I just have a little toast and some fruit. It becomes apparent that we don’t need to be up and about quite so early so I disappear back to bed for an hour hoping to make myself feel better.

When I rise again we are close to the shore, though many of the rocky islands are still visible. Sadly the morning mist still obscures the long distance views so we don’t get any postcard quality shots of the bay.

After only around an hour we are back on dry land and on the bus back to the hotel, another 3 hours of bumpy bus riding on bouncy roads. Because I don’t feel great and am still quite tired, it’s really not funny anymore. Thankfully we stop at a pottery place to break up the journey. Here they make all types of ceramics from clay to glaze and there is a chance to see items at all stages of development. Gaynor even has a go at colouring in. All a little tired we have a good look round and then hop back onto the bus to continue the bumpy ride back to Hanoi.

In the afternoon most go exploring the capital city that is Hanoi, risking life and limb in the crazy crazy traffic. As I’m still feeling crappy I stay in the hotal with the TV on and get some sleep for a few hours. Once Mrs Tom returns I hear that they explored quite a large part of the old quarter of the city, venturing much further than we had previously, seeing a lake and markets and the real places locals shop at.

Before dinner Rafaele has booked us tickets to see the famous Water Puppet Theatre show back in the heart of the old quarter. It’s certainly an experience. In the beginning I thought that they would be reading everything in English, French and Vietnamese as all the initial announcements were done this way. However, once the show kicked off it was all in Vietnamese so we didn’t have a clue what was going on. It was quite fun though.

Dinner is another gig organised by Rafaele for our post theatre nosh. We walk to the restaurant and climb up to the first floor where quite a nice dining room awaits. The menu has stuff from all over the world, so Barry and Gaynor take the opportunity to order some chips. Mrs Tom and I shared some Vietnamese spring rolls whilst I had Pho, and Mrs Tom had Duck. I was a little disappointed with my meal as pho is supposed to be a soup based dish I think and that’s not what I got. All in all not too bad a meal though.

After dinner we walked the night markets, which in comparison with Luang Prabang are basically a tat-fest, so we were all a little disappointed. There were one or two items of interest though, and Darren picked out a Chinese tea set which he liked, later to be bought as a present for his birthday the following day. It was also here in the night markets that I first caught glimpses of my celebrity here in South East Asia. As a tall man I am somewhat of a circus act to the locals. Here in the market I drew stares and sniggers, folks were pointing, I was a real show for them. Kind of odd, but in a fun way.

We finished up in the night markets minus Steven and Sunmer who had initially dropped out to buy Darren a present, but subsequently got lost. They later made it safely back to the hotel around 30 minutes after we did, where we had already turned in for an early night.

Today is a relatively quiet day, after breakfast (fried rice with pork and some noodles, why not eh) we board a bus to take us to Halong Bay, a 3 hour ride away. Ordinarily I don’t think anyone would be adverse to a 3 hour bus ride, it’s not the end of the world, but the roads in Vietnam have been built, let’s call it badly, let’s call it properly badly, so the experience is rather like riding a trampoline – after the initial amusement, the constant bouncing just becomes really, really annoying.

Our guide is called Hung (pronounced hoong, spelled as written – he spelled it). He’s a lovely chap who speaks English very well and knows his stuff. Around an hour and a half into the trip we stop for opprtunities to go to the loo and pick up any refreshments we might need. The shop sold a wide array of goods such as scarves, bags, ceramics, clothes etc. We pick up a few recognisable western goodies because we can, along with some spirits for good measure to make our boat trip pass more smoothly. A really rather bad taste comment is made entirely innocently, but you’ll have to ask me about that personally.

Once at what I suppose you might call the harbour of Halong Bay we are immediately onto a boat, which at first is a frightening prospect. We are to spend the next 24 hours on this boat, and this one appears to only have seating room on a main deck. Relieved to discover this boat only transfers us to our actual boat moored further out, we hop aboard and get settled. The boat is much more comfortable than any of us imagine, with cosy dining area and casual seating indoors and a roof terrace on top with benches, reclining chairs and sun loungers.

Halong Bay itself is magnificent. It consists of over 2000 islands, most of which have been named. Personally I think thy are cheating a bit – any rock formation, no matter how big or small or what shape or size, counts as an island. As a result there are lots of “islands” which are just small areas of rock sticking out above the ocean. It is a beautiful sight to see, and though mist and fog prevented great long distance visibility, this kind of created a bit of mysticysm which made the whole place feel a little bit magic. Our boat weaved in and out of the islands past floating villages where people maiy live by fishing and selling it to the mainland.

Lunch is served on the boat almost as soon as we board it and we are all very impressed, apart from Darren and Barry due to a minor misunderstanding. They crew had been informed that two of our number were not hugely keen on fish, so if they could avoid giving Barry and Darren fish that would be great. When lunch arrived we were served a delightful array of seafood including prawns and crab, but, technically, no actual swimmy swimmy fish. Good as the staff were they shuttled off to prepare something a bit more palatable for those gents. Sadly it seems the request for no fish for two turned into no fish for anyone, and given the nature of this particular excursion I would have liked to have seen what they would knock up for us.

We eventually arrive at a part of the bay where there is a pearl farm. The folks here make their living by pulling oysters from the sea bed and turning the pearls into items of interest. We’re not allowed too close because we may disturb they oysters with the boat, so after taking in the sights and appreciating the windlessness of the cove in which the farm lives, we about turn and set off for the Surprising Cave.

Initially we wern’t overly fussed about seeing another cave as the couple that we’d seen previously were not wildly impressive on their own, it was more the significance of them and their meaning that made them special. However, the suprising caves are well named. They (if I’m honest I’m not sure if it’s one or more than one cave) occupy a vast underground area full of incredible stalactites and stalagmites which have formed in the limestone, the rooves of the caves being more than 10 metres high in some places. They were discovered by a fisherman in (I think) the 17th centuary and are now a fully fledged tourist attraction. Hung shows us many different rock formations which have been spotted to look like different animals or situations or faces etc. The surprise for me was that we would be in one area which was amazing, then we would crouch through a small alleyway and out into another vast cave which was even more impressive than the last. The people who have turned the caves into an attraction have done a great job, the lighting is very well done and certainly adds to the experience.

After visiting the caves which takes around an hour, we jump back onto our waiting boat and head for a point in the bay which we are allowed to drop anchor and stop for the night. Once stopped our crew turns to serving dinner which is another lovely and huge meal (forgot to mention that lunch just never stopped coming – as soon as we thought we were done, more arrived – brilliant it was). The dietary requests are all satisfied this time.

Once the evening settles down we have a few drinks and crack open the cards. Gaynor teaches us to play Chase the Lady (though I think Barry called it slimey meg) and I quickly recognise it to be the PC card game Hearts, with some subtle rule differnces just as any card game has. Whilst Darren, Rafa and Barry play chess, the remainder play cards, with the game being entirely new to all but Gaynor and I. On the first practice go Steven pulls the perfect hand capturing all hearts and the queen of spades, before the meaning of this has even been explained to anyone (idea of game is to keep low score, pulling that hand earns you 0 whilst all others gain 150 points). By the end of the game Gaynor is the eventual winner having had several zero rounds. Once he had been beaten a few times at chess (turns out Barry is a very good player) Darren pops over to learn to play the game and we have another quick round before bedtime.

It was a very relaxing evening, with good food, great scenery, good background music, the boat spinning slowly on its anchor, drink flowing and a couple of good sociable games going on. Tomorrow we return to Hanoi.

Personal note to self, day 10 is December 3rd. It’s Adem’s birthday, happy birthday Adem, hope you have a great day. Also my nephew Will’s birthday, happy birthday Will, see you soon.

Straight after breakfast (full English with all the trimmings, oh hang on, it was omlette) we left shortly after 9 to go visit Big Brother Mouse. This time is was open and we were beckoned straight in, the young folks eager to capture someone to work with. I sat to work with a young man who proudly informed me he was a monk, and he went off to find a book. I also found out he was 19 and had one brother and two sisters. His spoken English wasn’t brilliant, but he had a pretty good idea of how to read, though when I corrected his pronunciation of some words he questioned me, and I realised quickly that our language makes little sense sometimes. Also the book he had chosen about Greek history did have a rather high number of awkward words in it. I wasn’t sure he understood what some of the words meant so I did a fair bit of miming and explaining. After around an hour my young chap said he had to go and was quickly off. Meanwhile, Mrs Tom had been reading and conversing with a couple of other young chaps before mine had departed, and as I turned to join in she had began with a third who had just come in from school. He was 21 and was in his second year of studying English so his spoken was pretty good. He asked us to explain some words from his exercise book and showed us the work be had been up to. Some pages he had missed because the guest house he works in was busy that day so he didn’t go in to school. He had been a monk already for 3 years but wasn’t any longer, and had once been swept off his feet by an Australian girl who had taken him travelling around Laos and he spoke of her with great affection. Poor lad was a bit besotted. To cheer him up I told him there was an Australian girl who worked in the Tamarind restaurant and maybe she would be just as nice, so I think he might give her a go next. He walked back with us to our guest house and then hopped on his bike and went off to work. It was a great experience being in there with the young people trying to learn English and helping them to do better. Thoroughly recommended.

After Big Brother Mouse we packed up as this was our last day in Luang Prabang and indeed Laos. After packing we dumped our stuff in one of the assigned day rooms and went for a walk along the riverside. We were actually looking for the point where the Mekong meets the Nam Khan as I wanted some pictures, but we walked in completely the wrong direction. Not to be put off we looped back along the main street where we saw Steven, Summer and Darren parked up outside the Joma cafe. We joined them for 20 minutes or so then set off for the riverside again, this time the right way. We quickly found it, but I was also looking for an old bridge built in the communist days, but failed to find it.

Having ran out of time to find the bridge we got back to the hotel bang on leaving time and found everyone else just picking up their things from the day room. En route to the airport we stopped by the Ethanology centre where a guide talked us around a recently opened museum of Lao ethanology. We saw clothes for different groups of people and what sort of places they lived in and courting customs, all very interesting stuff. The Lao people have different ways of classifying themselves, including where they live, the dialect, the religion, ancestry. The different groups often also have different customs and different clothing.

After the Ethanology centre we continued on to the airport and boarded the plane to Hanoi. Unusually for a short flight (approx one hour) we were given something to eat: a couple of ham and cheese rolls, a little donut and some fruit. A fairly uneventful flight all in all.

The transfer to the hotel was much more interesting. Rafaele has a very thorough knowledge of Vietnamese history, and he shared much of this with us on the transfer. For one thing, there is no Vietnam war here, it is called the American war – they wern’t at war with themselves. He must have talked for 20 minutes at least telling stories of how Vietnam came to be were it is today, stretching back a few hundred years. Vietnam has a very interesting history an one which I did not know much about, so I was glad of the lesson.

One thing that is immediately obvious when you get here is the big difference in the numbers of people and how much faster the pace is here. Vietnam is marginally larger than Laos, but Laos’ total population is around 6 million whereas Vietnam is more like 89 million. As a result things are busy and loud. Apparenty there are 40 million motorbikes here too, the primary method for people to get around. Crossing the street is an experience in itself.

We get some practice in crossing the street as we go out for dinner to a place Rafa has booked us in for around 8:15. Around a 15 minute walk we all managed to arrive at the restaurant with only minor injuries and one fatality to speak of. We sit on the roof terrace which is covered and sit cross legged on the floor at a traditional style low table. The food is great and once we’ve paid up however many million dong it is we get a taxi back to the hotel as Rafa goes off out somewhere. We were hoping to be able to find somewhere to have a drink and possibly even buy some supplies for tomorrow’s overnight boat trip, but unless we wanted to go to a karaoke bar we were out of luck. Steven had also scared us off karaoke bars as he’s been reading about “special” ones in his book about China. So, sober, we trundle off to bed having been in a bit of a party mood, though not before checking out Summer’s room as she was keen to share the apparent smell with us. There was no smell, she’s mental.