Hi folks,

I took one video whilst we were away too, which can be found here.  It’s of Vietnamese football fans going mental after their 6-1 victory over Cambodia in the 2009 South East Asia Games.  It was crazy walking through the streets whilst all that was going on; the people couldn’t be happier and yet at the same time it was all brilliantly good natured, not the slightest hint of feeling threatened by it all.  I took this video from the hotel in Ho Chi Minh City where the Americans would do their “five o’clock follies” during the Vietnam/American war, where we were having a wee drink and listening to some old gent crooning away before the band came back on.

7:30 seems very early to us right now, and that was only the time we had to leave. As the alarm went off at 6 I wished we’d had more time to sleep, but we needed to be up. We just about managed to scrape in breakfast before we jumped on the coach and headed for the Chu Chi tunnels.

It was around an hour or so drive to the tunnels, and we were back with our young guide Dang today. On arrival at the tunnels Rafa bought our tickets for us and we made our way to the first part of the tour, a 10 minute video of the Chu Chi folks using the tunnels and a quick run through of the history. Once the video was over Dang talked us through a mock up of the tunnels beside the tv screen and explained that there were three levels, the first of which was built prior to the American invasion. They were dug using custom made picks and dirt was carried away in handmade baskets. Once the Americans came they were driven out of their overground villages and so went completely underground, digging a further two levels of tunnels. There were meeting rooms, sleeping rooms, kitchen rooms, a whole host of them. All in all the tunnels extend for over 200km, all dug by hand. Once the Americans came the Chu Chi people only moved above ground at night, silently setting traps for the Americans and carrying dirt to places like rice fields or rubber plantations where it would not be noticed.

The traps were really quite neat. As they did not have access to guns the Chu Chi used booby trap style traps, swinging doors covered in leaves where the victim would fall onto sharpened bamboo below, foot traps of various methods used to impale the legs of the victims. There were also traps set in the tunnels themselves in case they were compromised. However, the tunnels were built just about big enough for the average Vietnamese person, and the Americans, despite knowing where many of the tunnel entrances were were just too fat to get into them.

Another way the tunnels were used was to give the Americans the impression that they were fighting far greater numbers than they were, as they would be ambushed from one side before their attackers would scuttle along the tunnels and ambush them from another, with the aericans thinking that there were people on both sides. Very smart.

To avoid detection cookig was only done at night, and everyone wore rubber sandals to avoid leaving trails and making noise. Vents for kitchens also carried the smoke sometimes miles away to help avoid suspiscion, and the area around the vent exit was dampened and covered in leaves to give the impression that the smoke was just mist. Air holes, to avoid the noses of dogs brought in to help detect the presence of Chu Chi people, were smeared with chilli and lime to throw the four legged enemy off the scent.

One little stretch of tunnels has been made big enough for us fat westerners to climb through, so we had a little scuttle and got a feeling for how things were. We also hopped through from one of the meeting rooms to a kitchen room via a tunnel, where I was happy to see the bat that had taken up residence fly in the same direction as we were and not back over our heads. Steven, shit scared of spiders, was a little freaked out by an eight-legged friend he met whilst crawling behind me.

Once our tunnel adventure was over we checked out of the Chu Chi tunnels exhibition area and got back on the bus, our guide Dang coming with us all the way to the Cambodian border, presumably as he needed the bus to take him back. An hour later we were there, and with our bags loaded onto a trolley (pulled by a little chap, not a machine) we said goodbye to Dang and our driver and began our border crossing.

It’s the first border crossing I’ve ever done on foot, not counting our little trips to Calais, which in any case usually involve some ferrying about on a terminal bus. This was literally being dropped off a few hundred yards from the border control, walking up to the offices, getting through immigration, then, security, then visa check, then health check, and finally through to the other side. There is a lot of wasted time during the crossing as you fill in one form, get up, go through a check, fill in another, go through a check, fill in another, and so on. I’m not quite sure why they can’t just give you a bundle of forms (which mostly ask the same questions) and then let you stroll through unimpeded. At the health check station those of us unfortunate to cough have a temperature reader thingy pointed at our heads and zapped. The Cambodian official tries to convince Rafaele that he needs to pay for something but he’s wise to the game and we get through without having to bribe anyone. Although reasonably quick, all in all I think the crossing experience takes a fair while longer than it needs to. No doubt the Cambodians will take my opinions on board.

Lunch today was at a road side place just past the border crossing which looked, quite frankly, shit. No-one really fancies much of what we see on the rather grim looking menu, but somehow a common concensus on the chicken noodle soup arrives and so I add another to the list. Actually it’s not that bad really, though I could have quite happily skipped that meal.

After lunch we have another couple of hours or so on the bus before we reach the hotel. What strikes me as we enter Cambodia and get closer and closer to Phnom Penh is that it is so much dirtier than anywhere we’ve been so far, there is tons of litter everywhere. Then, as we stop for a ferry crossing to get across a river, the poverty. People of all ages immediately bombard the bus to beg for money, tapping on the windows. Some are trying to sell postcards, bangles and other crap no-one really wants whilst some just have their hands out. It’s a horrible experience, the desperation is tough to bear.

On the journey Rafa gives a bit of a history lesson on Cambodia, and eventually I think most of us end up nodding off. In between naps I am again plugging the diary deficit. It is quite a lot of effort to keep this going, but I’ve sort of committed to it now, and I’ve decided that I actually quite like writing for fun. I think when I get home I’ll crack out a hilarious Hollywood blockbuster.

We are again tremendously spoiled with our hotel, though there is no special treatment this time. As we’re arriving late we have about an hour and a half to freshen up before going to dinner. Tonight’s dinner is quite a special affair as we are to be eating at the house of a local Cambodian guide that the intrepid folks have gotten to know through their work in the area. Mr Rarn lives in a house in a more out of centre part of town with his wife and three daughters, and lives with two other families, a total of around 30 people.

Cambodian tradition says that when a couple marry they move in with the parents of the woman, so the other families in the house are essentially Mr Rarn’s in-laws. The family introduce themselves, but they do not eat with us. It turns out we are actually eating in one ofthe rooms where people sleep, and we’re all sat on the floor. For tonight’s dinner we have teamed upcwith another intrepid group as Mr Rarn had already agreed for them to come along, and as he doesn’t invite people every day this was our only opportunity whilst in Phnom Penh.

The food is prepared by the family and is a huge and very tasty spread of Cambodian dishes, including a cracking curry. There’s also spring rolls, a green salad, spare ribs, noodle dishes and of course rice. There is far too much for everyone to eat and so there is a lot left over for which I feel quite guilty for. I wod have loved to have eaten more because it was fantastic, but I just couldn’t squeeze it in.

For desert there is a rather unusual dish served up first – deep fried tarantulas. Whilst these have been marinaded in honey and lime I still don’t fancy a go, and am glad when the pineapple slices arrive as an alternative. One or two of the other group have a go, some try a leg, Rafa and the other tour leader Matt show us how it’s done too, but the main thing I’ll remember is the look of absolute brown knickers terror and disgust that occupied spider hating Steven’s face when the spiders were served up.

We learn that Mr Rarn runs an English class for the people who live near him, but sadly for us because it’s Sunday the class does not run, it would have been nice to be able to help out. He does this just to help out the children nearby because though education is free, English classes are not. For many people in South East Asia learning to speak English is a way to a better life. We begin to get the impression that Mr Rarn is a very good man, and we later find out that he supports the education of all his nieces and nephews that live with him too.

Once dinner is over the family clean up and I play empty tin can skittles with the youngest of Mr Rarn’s children. Shortly afterwards we let the family have some peace and get ready for bed, and head off to Raf’s recommended pub where the other group are also congregated, thanking everyone before we leave.

The pub is quite lively but this is mainly due to the folks from the othe group, larger than ours, that have occupied the pool table area. Not much room for us round there, we situate ourselves down by the bar where there is a tv showing a live premier league game. Once we have our drinks it’s not long before Rafa decides he and I should play pool, so we end up playing doubles against a pair from the other group. This pool table is more like the same width as the ones at hone but is longer, and the balls are still bigger. We win (of course) though I actually play rubbish, and I retake my seat.

A little while later the chap from the bar comes round asking if anyone wants to play killer, for a free “bucket” which is a gravy jug sized, err, jug, of cocktail. I’m not a huge fan of killer normally but I thought I’d have a go, and about 45 minutes later I’m drinking my free cocktail. I rock. A further two rounds of killer ensue, and whilst the other group leader Matt wins the second (with me in the last 3) I clinch the last too. No prizes after the first game though, so sussed.

Overall the night is a good one, a great dinner with the lovely Mr Rarn and a few games of pool after. As the night ends we climb in to our tuk tuks which have been waiting for us for a couple of hours, and head to bed.

Today is a free day in Ho Chi Minh City. We had the option of a trip to the Mekong Delta, but this was an 8 hour excursion starting at 8am. Whilst we would have loved to have gone, we weren’t sure if we’d cope in the heat for 8 hours (our sun cream having been confiscated during our last air flight as I forgot to put it in the main bag, that rule is still bullshit), and we wanted to get a bit of a look around the city on our own which we wouldn’t have been able to do if we had gone for the trip. This was our last day in Ho Chi Minh City and our last day in Vietnam.

Having decided against the excursion we got up late, too late for breakfast, and set off to have a bit of a poke around. We found our way back to the area where the opera house lives as we’d been told that was where the main action was shopping-wise. We blundered into a shopping centre which had a sort of Debenhams feel about it (straight into the perfume counters) though it wasn’t Debenhams as that was just up the road. Actually. Upstairs we found a wee supermarket so we picked up some more sun cream and a big bottle of water to take around with us, and set off from the shopping centre without having too much of a look around.

Back on the main streets we found the road with all the posh shops on it, Gucci and what have you. We didn’t bother looking, there really wasn’t much point. Having looked around for a bit we made our way to the riverside hoping to be able to get close and check out the scenery. Unfortunately they’ve built up stuff along the river to the extent that you can no longer get close enough for a butchers, but later Rafa tells us there isn’t actually much to see anyway. After turning down several bike rides, boat trips, motorbike hiring and sunglasses salesfolk (both of us clearly already wearing sunglasses) we had a little sit down in the shade to hide from the sun a little. We sat and relaxed for a bit, and a few boat trip denials later we wandered off back towards the city centre. We again rested in the shadow of a nearby monument (not sure what of, nothing in English) before deciding it was time for lunch.

Being the cultural folk we are we dived into an Italian cafe for lunch. Think Costa (ish) with a touch of “upstairs in Miles bar” (pretty much just a Ramsgate reference that one, sorry) up on the third floor where the loos where. We had a couple of iced coffees and I, trying to reclaim some local credibiliy, had a won ton soup, Mrs Tom having a more culturally damning burger and chips. It was a very comfortable lunch and it was great to be out of the heat for a while. Tired from the heat and feeling a little drained we retired back to our hotel for a smashing little afternoon nap.

Having been blessed with our fancy bath (dolphin tap and jacuzzi bubbles) we took a nice long soak before meeting Gaynor, Barry and Rafaele for dinner, Steven and Darren having gone out on their own, and Summer opting for room service. As we’d not seen a note left for us earlier we were actually planning on going for a dinner on or own, but Rafaele gave us a call to le us know we were late so we toddled off to join the others.

We ate dinner beside the market stalls at a street food place Rafa recommended, and though I was a little aprehensive at first (it didn’t look massively clean and I was a tadge concerned about rats if I’m honest) we ended up having a good meal, and a bit of a lesson in politics to boot. Though it was street food we ordered from a menu and Rafaele insisted that it was all freshly cooked to order. It was certainly very tasty, and I’m not dead so it’s probably fine.

No after dinner drinking action for us tonight as an early start beckoned with us needing to be packed and ready to leave at 7:30, and we still needed to pack. So, it was pack the cases and get to bed.

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.