Wading Ashore…
Hue, the old imperial capital, was a pleasant enough place – except for the touts who wouldn’t leave me alone for a minute, even while on the middle of the bridge taking a picture of the river. The potential profitability of cadging a foreigner out of his cash must be unimaginable….there seemed to be more xe om (motorbike cab) drivers around than the rest of the employed population combined. Why grow rice and do little more than fill your belly, when you can move into town and perhaps get 1-2 decent scores a day?
Hue’s sights are spread out such that it makes sense to take an organized tour of them. I heard about a good operation run by a local woman named Thu – called Café on Thu Wheels. And she employs most of her 10 or so siblings, making it a very Vietnamese family affair. Thu’s tours are, as the name suggests, on motorbike – so there’s a bit more adventure than the usual stuff ’em in the bus deal.
I got my own bike – the rest of the 5-6 foreigners rode on the back of a bike, with a local driver. The Honda Wave was fun enough…but seemed like a toy compared with the 160cc version I drove around the North just a few days before. Our tour leader, Minh (one of Thu’s many brothers) was a real joker – at the tomb of Emperor Tu Duc, a man who had 104 wives, countless concubines, but no children, Minh told us that Tu Duc must have been ‘shooting blanks.’ His random English – peppered with dated expressions that he emphasized to prove his language skills – reminded me of the Moustache Brothers in Mandalay. The lead brother in that act had told us that his brother (or perhaps cousin, I forget) had been ‘sent up the river’ by the junta…
The tour was diverting enough for a half day. The other foreigners with me were fun – Nienke from Holland, who was in the same hotel, and an Irish woman too. We were all spending a month or so in Vietnam and compared notes. That’s the best way to find the good spots – the guidebook is fine but when an establishment makes it in there, they tend to raise prices and get lazy. Finding the good places that aren’t listed (yet – they all aspire to a listing and will kill to get it) is the score we all seek.
Besides visiting Tu Duc’s tomb, we visited a pagoda whose names eludes me, where we watched monks and novices chant for a half hour or so – very cool. Next week I’ll try to remember to put a clip on YouTube. The last spot we visited was Thien Mu Pagoda – the tower is a national symbol – here it is:
But far more interesting, and morbid, is the old Austin car displayed there. This car brought monk Thich Quan Duc to Saigon in 1963, where he immolated himself publicly – a clip/photo many of you would have seen. His death sparked further protests and led to the fall of the Diem government, and the beginning of the end of South Vietnam. Here’s the car with a photo of the immolation – grisly stuff:
Considered spending the afternoon visiting the Citadel, Hue’s old imperial center, on the other side of the river…but it was too damned hot. Instead, sat in my room reading while the aircon washed over me. Then I did some writing, and finally took a nap. As I’ve said before, this country is surprisingly hot and I’ve gotta take a nap a couple times a week to cool the old bod down…
Got up, did a bit of yoga, and watched CNN International – where I watched David Ortiz of my beloved Boston Red Sox rap out a couple homers and win a game for the Olde Towne team. The Sox are stumbling in the stretch run and I’m praying we hold off the Yankees. The regular season has a week or so to go. I may need to be strategic in my wanderings if the Sox go deep into the playoffs – I’ll want to watch those games, and while I have MLB.TV on my laptop, watching the game on a big screen, preferably surrounded by screaming compatriots, is by far the preferred format. Let’s see.
Went to a Japanese restaurant that night – appropriately called ‘Japanese Restaurant.’ It’s run by Koyama-san, a Japanese fellow who moved to Vietnam 15 or so years ago, after a visit to Saigon where he was shocked by the number and circumstances of the street kids there. He subsequently moved to Hue, where he started a home for them, and eventually this restaurant, where he gives them training for later life. The food was very good, the kids adorable, and the service just fine.
Had a glass of red wine from the mountain city of Dalat after that – not very good. I later heard that chilling it helps – I don’t mind chilling reds over here, because the ‘room temperature’ in Asia is well above 72 Fahrenheit and red wine much warmer than that gets very thin. Oh well.
Next day I went on a full-day tour of the former DMZ (Demilitarized Zone). A very full day – 6 a.m.-6 p.m. The DMZ is far from Hue, which is still the top spot for launching these tours. I wanted to see the spots I had read about and studied so many years ago at university – Khe Sanh airbase, the Ho Chi Minh trail, the Ben Hai River, and the Vinh Moc Tunnels. Nienke the Dutch woman was along on this tour as well – so I had a buddy to chat with. Not that it’s particularly difficult to make friends on these sorts of tours if that’s what you want…sometimes I’m feeling friendly, sometimes not.
This tour was a test for all of us. The early start, the lengthy drive to the DMZ, and the uninteresting nature of the sights combined to make it a crappy way to spend a day. The Ben Hai is pretty placid, the bridge unremarkable:
The Ho Chi Minh Trail is now a minor highway, and the former little Bakrong Bridge is now a semi-impressive engineering feat – but not that historically interesting or evocative for us – see here:
Khe Sanh airbase – which underwent a huge siege by the VC/North Vietnamese Army in January 1968, probably the biggest battle of the way – is now a little plain with a weak museum, a few US Army relics, and a few vendors peddling old US coins, Zippo lighters, and even soldiers’ dogtags. That was eerie – I didn’t want any part of these artifacts of fighting and death. I thought this comment in the visitors’ book was the most pertinent thing about Khe Sanh today:
The Vinh Moc tunnels, where villagers near the river had gone underground to escape US bombing, were worth a peek – we went inside and walked around for 20 minutes. Some of the entrances/exits front the ocean beach – you can literally walk out of a dank tunnel and jump into the ocean for a swim. That was how the villagers washed off back in the day. Here’s their main hallway:
Got back around 6 p.m., covered in dust (the aircon bus didn’t really have aircon, so we opened the windows and got dusted). The tour really wasn’t worth it…but I do think that if you were to find an old-timer who worked with the US or ARVN (South Vietnamese Army) and got him to show you round, that would be a different story. Apparently you can go to Dong Ha, the town on the south side of the DMZ, and find such folks – they’d have some wild stories to tell, for sure.
I’ve noticed that Vietnamese have a thing for hats. Many in the north wear these hard green hats that have a vaguely military look. You also see lots of baseball caps – not that any baseball is played here that I can see.
One of the tourists on the DMZ tour wore fatigue pants. Probably not a big deal, but it made me wonder about the guy’s level of self-awareness. Here’s a white fellow coming to Vietnam and visiting old military sights, wearing fatigues. On the other hand, I’m probably too cautious – when I go running in places like India, I don’t wear my red bandana – I don’t want to be mistaken for a Communist rebel on the run from something dastardly.
Last week’s entry was added to the Offroad Vietnam website – you’ll recall this is the outfit I used for my motorbike tour of the north.
Anh Wu, the Sales Manager, managed to get all our feedback and get this entry in there within 2-3 days of the tour. They should clone this guy and send him around the country.
Was leaving the next day for Danang, to the south. But first had to go and see the Citadel, so reserved early morning for that. It was worth the 90 minutes or so…had to contend with the usual war propaganda, and I’m more than weary of that…particularly given that the VC murdered around 2,500 Hue citizens in 1968 for being undesirables, during the 3 weeks they held the city. But the Citadel was fairly well-preserved, with some nice old Imperial buildings, and perhaps the most muscular flagpost and flag I’ve ever seen, atop the Citadel – here it is:
Cute woman in traditional ao dai posing for pics outside – might have been filming an ad:
Decided to take the train to Danang, largely because I wanted to check out the ‘Reunification Express,’ partly because the DMZ tour turned me off buses for a while. The train was fine – had to take a ‘soft sleeper’ for the 2.5 hour journey because all regular aircon seats were booked. Or so they told me at the station – I tend to suspect upselling in cases like this. Anyway…there were 4 berths in our cabin, with only a middle-aged local and I in there. They brought lunch – we attempted to communicate a bit. Seemed like a nice guy. We both kicked back and did some reading. Then he started sniffling, and then coughing. Badly. Ugh.
I’ve observed that Asian cultures are quite different from the West in their treatment of oral projections. You don’t hear any forms of ‘bless you’ when you sneeze…which is logical, as ‘bless you’ is a Christian reaction to one potentially being invaded by demons as your mouth opens. At least that’s my understanding. Anyway, Asians generally do cover their mouths when they sneeze. But coughing is different – people over here cough at will and let it fly. A bit odd – I recall my old girlfriend in Japan having a cold while with me in Australia, coughing with open mouth, and getting some nasty stares and a couple comments from Aussies (which I let pass as I thought they were justified – I know, I’m a crappy boyfriend).
Odd because, at least in Japan, females often cover their mouths while laughing – after all, they wouldn’t want to show their bare teeth or anything like that. But expelling the contents of the throat – no problem. And now I was in a semi-enclosed train cabin with a fellow in the middle of a very bad coughing fit. After a few minutes I turned and asked him, ‘OK’? He nodded. But he didn’t seem OK. After a few more minutes, I tried to signal my displeasure with some loud sighs. Then I left the cabin to walk around the train car. Finally we got to Danang. I crossed my fingers and hoped I wouldn’t be feeling a sore throat in 48 or so hours…
Got a taxi to my airport, dropped my pack, and went out for a walk. I wanted to get a quick look at the city and to take in the nearby Museum of Cham Sculpture, supposedly an excellent spot. I walked down the riverside promenade and made for the museum.
The US Navy had a major presence in Danang during the war. Danang is the largest city in central Vietnam, is a nice, spread-out city, is on the coast, and has a sizeable harbor. And nearby China Beach is where loads of GIs went for R&R, with the usual dubious entertainment abounding. As I walked down the road, I saw lots of older men hanging around – a couple of them accosted me and offered motorbike tours. One called himself ‘Mr. T.’ Another was ‘Tom.’ And now I could see that I was really in the South…Hue was technically south of the old DMZ, but didn’t feel that different from the North…Danang was otherwise.
I felt all eyes on my during my mile-long walk to the museum. Particularly from older men and women – many of the men must have served in the war, on our side, and possibly been thrown into ‘re-education camps’ afterward. They may have been barred from normal employment…their families may have been penalized…who knows. All I know is that I felt incredibly sheepish and guilty as I strolled by, wearing my expensive shades and hair cut short (well, balding). I couldn’t believe these guys were eyeballing me with much fondness. No overt hostility, or even subtle for that matter – but my feelings were intense. We let these people down…and you’ve gotta believe they had to pay some price, while we ran off with our tail between our legs and no other real cost to us.
Got to the museum – which indeed was a real gem, perhaps the only real sight to see in the city of Danang itself. The Cham civizilization was around from roughly the 2nd-15th centuries, and was an Indianized society similar in some ways to those which built Angkor, Bagan, Ayutthaya, and Borobodur. The southward expansion of the Vietnamese doomed the Cham nation, but there are still 100,000+ Chams in the country and they have preserved much of their culture. This museum had scores of impressive sculptures from sites around the country – here are a few, mostly based on Hindu deities like Ganesh and Shiva:
Shrugged off a few more motorbike tour offers on way back to the hotel. I did intend to visit Monkey Mountain, the Marble Mountains, and China Beach the next morning, but didn’t feel like locking something in before I had an idea what the night (it was Saturday night) would hold.
Guidebook mentioned a bar called Christine’s Cool Spot, so I went there for a few beers and to get some dinner. Met a couple random expats there – the first, Simon, was a Canadian who flies helicopters for an energy company doing work in the country. At first I thought he was a geek – he walked in and ordered a soda and onion soup. I feared he was a Mormon missionary or the like – but turns out he’s on 24-hour call to fly his copter and can’t have even a single drink. Fun. At least he’s paid well. I told him I met a couple guys doing similar work in Rangoon last year – they actually work for the same company and he knows them. Small world. Good guy.
Second expat was Bill, an Aussie architect who’s helping with some new developments in Danang – which indeed seems to be booming. Bill’s worked all round the world, but fell in love with Vietnam – and has a wife in Saigon. Bill told me about a couple nightclubs worth visiting – Camel Club and New Phamdoung. Well, there it was – my plan for my single night in Danang.
Tried Camel Club first. OK place – might have been there too early, but given Vietnam’s midnight or 1 a.m. deadline, you do want to head out on the early side. There was a dancing girl in bikini onstage – excellent. And hostesses were working the floor, selling drinks, getting guys to buy them drinks, etc. None were that cute and the music was blaring. I stayed for a couple beers, chatted to a couple ladies, then headed off to the New Phamdoung.
Which was absolutely mobbed. One of the doormen helped me make sense of the place – he took my arm and brought me towards the back, which was the place to be for a single visitor. That’s because there’s a stage with about 10 women dancing atop it – and they were pretty cute. They dance, talk to customers, bring some food, and dance some more. If they like a customer, more is presumably on offer. I saw architect Bill there – he was getting quite friendly with one of the dancers. He motioned me over – introduced me to a few dancers. He’s obviously a regular. And a capable drinker – soon we were both blotto and dancing around ourselves (not on stage – that would have gotten us sent home). And then we (Bill, I and a couple friends) were at an after-hours place nearby – they close the doors at 1 a.m., so you need to be inside first. Not the recipe for an early start the next day…but a hell of a night in Danang.
Awoke with a severe hangover. Drank a liter of water impressivel quickly. Tried to check my email on the wireless…but it was down. Went out to eat – tried to get $ at the ATM – no dice. Went to Bread of Life café, a nice little spot – but they were closed. The foreign guy standing in front, the owner I suppose, told me the café was closed but that they have an international church meeting upstairs. Was that the international church of eggs and toast, I asked. No. I should have known he was no fun by the massive cross hanging from his neck. So far I was batting zero for the morning, and my stomach hurt. Talk about shooting blanks…
Walked over to Christine’s, the bar. It was just opening up – now my luck was turning. Got some greasy noodles (not called that on the menu) and a Coke – felt better within minutes. Contemplated a cold beer – had one. Felt even better. Now I was ready to hop on a motorbike and see the sights…
Walked over the the riverside walk, and was immediately waylaid by a guy on a Honda who offered me the usual bike tour. To his amazement, I said maybe and proceeded to negotiate. One minute later, I was on the back of his bike, speeding towards Monkey Mountain.
To be honest, I wasn’t that thrilled by the prospect of more sightseeing – I’d had plenty in Hue, and previously in Hanoi. But at least this would be outdoors, and on the back of a bike. I do think most long-term travelers get sick of sight-seeing…and this compounds when you’re moving around quickly. But you’ve gotta see the good stuff, methinks – and perhaps blow off the sights that sound less exciting. All depends on what you like.
Monkey Mountain is to the northeast of the city, and was the site of a US military base during the war. Monkeys apparently once roamed the place, but are no more. There a nice beach off it – and an old tower atop it. The area around Danang is in general unusual – river, mountains, ocean all juxtaposed, but they don’t crowd, there’s lots of room and a feeling of being on an oceanside plain most of the time.
Good views of the city from Monkey Mountain – see here:
Got a flat en route to the Marble Mountains, a few bumps south of the city that are, in fact, made of marble. A girl gave me a lift there while my driver got his tire fixed. The girl was not entirely altruistic – her family owns a marble arts shop next to one of the ‘mountains.’ We got there…I climbed the steps up to a shrine and series of caves, which were OK – the following was perhaps the most intriguing sight on the walk:
Then proceeded back down, prepared to fend off the hard sell. I’m almost always right when I’ve got a sense my defenses must be raised – and was right again now. The entire family was on me, showing me dozens of quite nice marble pieces from their shop. Laughing buddhas, incense holders, water buffalo…all worthy, but I’m not in buying mode, or mood, and my pack is heavy enough. Finally my driver showed up and got me out of there. I did purchase a small bottle of water while there…
I wanted to visit a section of China Beach called My Anh by the locals. China Beach is some 30km long, and it quite a sight. Largely undeveloped – there’s just one large, 5-star Furama Resort nearby. But I heard that most of the remaining good bits have been parceled off and are being sold to Hyatt and other large chains. In 5 years you won’t be able to walk along the beach without coming upon a hotel guard. Hallelujah. Anyway, here’s what the beach looks like for now:
The seedy elements from the war aren’t that evident, although there are some ‘karaoke’ joints that I’m sure offer more than sing-alongs.
I had heard about a cool little hotel/bar called Hoa’s that I wanted to visit. I wouldn’t have time to stay there – I was taking a bus south to Hoi An at 4 p.m. – but I wanted to at least see Hoa’s and have a swim. My driver brought me there, and it turned out that Hoa’s was a fine little place indeed. The bar/restaurant is open-air and is 2 minutes from the beach…and when I walked in I was immediately greeted by an American who offered me a beer. Not half bad. I accepted, and sat down next to him. This friendly fellow, a New Yorker named Don Morgan, writes for Travelfish, one of the top SE Asia websites, and had found himself ‘stuck’ at Hoa’s and China Beach. And I could see why. Hoa, the owner, is a lean little fellow who is well-used to taking care of crazy foreigners and he serves cold beer and pretty good food at rock-bottom prices. And he has loads of rooms to let, with some long-term stayers there.
Sat there with Don, Hoa, a French-Canadian lass, and an older Aussie woman who runs an English school in Danang. Sat there for a couple hours, in fact – drinking more beer than I expected to, eating more spring rolls than I had anticipated, and in general having a good laugh. For some reason the comedian Steven Wright came to mind – and when I told some of his jokes, Don knew ’em and responded with a few others. Hadn’t had an exchange with an East Coast wise-ass in a very long time and quite enjoyed it. Don said pretty much the same.
Finally, the day was getting on and it was time for a swim. Walked over to the beach…waded in…felt heavenly. Realized I hadn’t been to the beach since late June in the Philippines. Halong Bay qualified as swimming in the ocean, but it wasn’t the same. The fresh salt water seeped into my overheated pores and I felt back in my element, after a long long time away. The beach was nearly deserted – a few locals renting umbrellas and chairs, a few local kids swimming, and a few foreigners in the water as well. Quiet, peaceful, and eerily empty – I think there are lots of locals in summer months, but here it was just a couple weeks into September, a Sunday, and precious few in sight. I couldn’t complain at all.
Had to get back to my hotel, get my bags, and catch a bus. Driver came round and got me. Stopped back at Hoa’s to say bye to the gang – here they are, and may still be there having drinks and swapping stories for all I know. Don admonished me to spend a night at Hoa’s – and I was sorely tempted. One of the few times I felt I’m traveling too fast, and in fact, right now I am – I have limited time in Vietnam. But I can imagine going back, and My Anh is definitely one of the spots I’d choose to revisit and spend more time…
Here’s the gang, for posterity:
So my day in Danang turned out to be a fine one, and my crappy morning completely turned round. Underrated place to spend time in Vietnam – not many tourists stop here, and most, like me, just spend a night en route to their next destination.
The bus was the famous ‘open bus,’ which runs up and down the coast. You can buy a ridiculously cheap ticket which enables you to hop on and off one of their numerous buses at any point along the route, and is good for a set period of time. You can travel from Hanoi to Saigon over a month and spend only around US$25 for the total bus ticket. At the same time, the bus is generally full of tourists and you don’t meet many locals. I also know people who have gotten robbed (while sleeping) on these buses – they seem to be rich pickings for thiefs (foreign and local). So I resolved to minimize my time on these buses and try to take trains and regular buses to the extent possible. One thing’s for sure – when you’re on these open buses, or any other in Vietnam, you really sense the mass of people in movement at any time. Lots of people traveling, every minute of every day. And so on, to Hoi An.
I mentioned sight-seeing fatigue a bit earlier…now I’m getting blog-writing fatigue. Not because I’m sick of writing this – it’s more due to the wobbly train I’m riding right now and the screeching Vietnamese soap opera cranking on the TV 2 meters from my face. And the aircon is not running that well – my energy is slowly being sapped. Oh, and did I mention that my fear of the ‘coughing man’ has borne out? I have a nasty fever and sore throat and I haven’t felt this bad in the year and change that I’ve been on the road. Anyway, I always have something to complain about…so let me just go ahed and sum up my thoughts and actions in a few bullet points and call it a day for this entry.
-Well-preserved little city – cool little Old Quarter, a bit touristy – make that very touristy. Seems that everyone’s into selling clothing or food/drink to tourists. The food is quite nice – some local specialties like cao lau, which is a noodle soup with slices of pork, green leafy vegetables, and odd crouton like substances.
-Flirtatious clerks at my hotel. I’d stay there again. That’s not to say, however, that I got laid there…
-After having consumed a few beers my first night in Hoi An, I heard ‘Imagine’ by John Lennon on a CD at a local bar and was immediately sent back to the moment when I was 12 or 13, sitting having breakfast at home before school, and my mother switched on the TV and we heard that Lennon had just been shot dead in New York City. I swear that a decent way to spend the rest of my life would be to remove guns from the hands of lunatics in the US. I may at some point just take up that cross. After all, none of our politicians seems interested/ballsy enough to bother…they’re too busy posing for faux hunting shots with donors.
-Jeez, there are lots of obese Australian tourists in this country. I don’t recall there being that many fatties in Oz back in 2000-02 when I worked there. Do they save them up for export? Some are so unappealing they remind me of the androgynous character ‘Pat’ on Saturday Night Live a few years back…
-Ate dinner second night at Café des Amis. The owner/’chef cuisinier’ is Mr. Kim, who does put on quite a table. Scrumpdilyicious. He even has a comment book with feedback from his customers, including one Justin Timberlake, who entered a generic compliment a year or two ago. The usual teenyboppers followed his comment in the book with pro-Justin bits, hardly mentioning the food. Typical.
-A young girl, possibly 8 or so, rides her bike around the river promenade every night, and took a liking to me. After she called out ‘Hey, mate!’ in Aussie, I set her straight – I’m not Aussie. After that, she rode her bike around after me, directing me to the best bars and restaurants. She wanted American souvenirs – I found a quarter and gladly handed that over. But I was a little careful – it doesn’t look too good having a little Asian girl hanging out with a 40-year-old whitey – so I made sure she either rode 5 meters in front or back of me. Felt very bad having her do that – she was actually good fun and spoke incredibly good English – but you know how times are…
-Bought a US$1 pirated version of the 2002 remake of The Quiet American, with Michael Caine (my favorite actor bar none) and Brendan Fraser. Well done – quite a yarn, and puts you squarely in the period. Well worth the buck…
-Visited the ruins of My Son, which was the Cham capital for centuries. Much of it was bombed (by us, of course) during the war. Not a classic sight, in my book – pales next to Angkor, Bagan, etc. But heaps of Japanese tourists were along on this tour, so I got to practice my Japanese and discuss the change in prime minister and other matters.
-Had a call with Yuhin, my friend/financial advisor. Made a few trades, per his advice…and we crossed our fingers on the US Federal Reserve Bank cutting interest rates and helping boost my portfolio. Sure ’nuff, when I awoke the next day, they had acted more strongly than expected, and I had made a few bucks while sleeping.
-Ran into Dutch friend Nienke, from Hue, on the street while looking for a dinner spot. Random, but at the same time a fairly normal occurrence. Had a drink together – traded advice – she walked me to a great little restaurant, then we said goodbye. She’s taking a motorbike tour from Hoi An to Dalat shortly – she’ll have a blast, I’m certain.
Enjoyed my time in Hoi An, a key stop on the SE Asian ’boutique town tour,’ in which I’d include Luang Prabang and Siem Reap, and perhaps a few others as well.
Next stop: Nha Trang, a mini Danang with a supposedly brilliant beach and good diving. Got a taxi back to Danang’s trains station for this trip – passed by China Beach, felt a pang and thought about hopping out for a beer at Hoa’s – but thought better of it, sometimes it’s better to leave too early or avoid a potentially crappy second go-around and just cherish the memory. So I will, at least for now.
Sat in the train station. Huge TV in the lobby – the music video for ‘Unchain My Heart’ was playing. Steamy semi-nude shower scenes, well beyond the usual PG-13 stuff shown round here – everyone in the lobby was watching intently. Slowly but surely, we’re wearing down these Communists and turning them into pornography/Coke/KFC-starved muppets. There’s more than one way to wage a war…
Going diving tomorrow (unless my fever worsens) in Nha Trang, with an outfit called Rainbow Divers, run by a Brit named Jeremy Stein. Jewish? Perhaps. I have heard he looks a lot like the actor Chuck Norris. Excellent. Wish me luck. Over and out.
Tags: Travel
mbsloney
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