|
22nd March 2002
Back in 'Nam 2002
Our first night in Viet Nam was to be an eventful one.
After crossing the border at about 5pm we immediately noticed on cycling through Mong Cai that Viet Nam has a bar and café culture. The streets were lined with pavement cafes and bars, a welcome change from China where it was all or nothing � it was very difficult to find somewhere you could just sit and drink, be it tea, coffee, or beer. There seemed too, to be a certain French colonial hangover, unsurprisingly really. The buildings were quite different from China, tall and thin, detached, rendered houses, often with balconies on the first floor.
We decided to try to camp on the beach at Tra Co, a beach we had seen on our maps, so cycled about 10kms to find it. When we arrived it seemed very nice, a great first impression of Vietnam. It was a holiday resort primarily serving Vietnamese and Chinese tourists and the main (only) street was very quiet with sand encroaching its borders.
Having taken a look around we found a bar in which to have the traditional first beer after crossing a border. This was in a café on the beachfront, with plenty of capacity but no customers. It was very low season! The beach was a beautiful, long, wide and shallow affair with characteristic Vietnamese fishing boats bobbing around beyond the low tide mark. Scott said it reminded him of a northern American beach resort in winter � nothing much going on.
Having had our beer we set about the task of deciding where to camp. There was a long promenade bordering the beach with many little cafes, mostly closed, behind it. At our end of the promenade was an area of grass and we decided to camp ostentatiously on it, thinking no one would care. Having set up our tents, with some assistance from some very helpful and intelligent children (one of our better experiences with "helpful" children), we decided to look for something to eat. Stephane said he wasn�t hungry and would stay with the tents.
We made our way up onto the main street and walked up and down to see if there was anyone willing to serve us. It was dark, with little or no street lighting and as we looked around we could tell very little, but there didn�t seem to be too much activity. Eventually we were directed to a café where we managed to get some basic food and just relax a little, taking the air. We discovered that the Vietnamese make baguette style bread, a very welcome change and the first bread as we know it since Russia. They also do a very nice line in fried egg and salad baguettes.
We returned to our tents and soon after Stephane was away with the clouds, whilst the rest of us talked, made hot drinks and wrote our diaries. We had a visitor. He was very polite, but very firm, we must accompany him to the police station.
When we got there, we found the local English teacher had been dragged out of bed to translate and it was fairly simply and straightforwardly explained that camping was not allowed in Vietnam and we would have to book into a hotel. Hotels cost in the region of 100 Dong ($6) and they would be happy to take our money. We explained our situation and that we were very tired and could we just sleep there tonight and be off in the morning. Eventually they relented and we were allowed to leave. On the way out, the English teacher asked if we could come to talk to her the next day at the school, where she lived. We were very happy to, I think she had probably never met native English speakers before.
The following morning, after striking camp we made our way to the school and were welcomed in by the teacher. She sat us down in her room and generally talked to us about the trip, our homes and our lives. Before long five fellow young women teachers joined her and she invited us to stay for a simple lunch. Stephane disappeared for a while whilst Rory and I played frisbee in the yard. On his return he explained that he was working on one of the girls and since "there�s six of them, there�s six of us!", perhaps we should hang around and stay another night. I don�t think this was what was in the young ladies minds however and having met the police the previous night and been informed of Viet Nam�s laws on independent camping, we thought perhaps it would be better to leave this sleepy little resort behind us. It was with some bewilderment that we persuaded Stephane of this, and, it has to be said that, the young teachers, pillars of the local community, were fairly relieved to see the back of us.
Our next port of call was to be Cat Ba island in Halong Bay, a world heritage site famous for its pillars of rock standing proudly out the see for miles on end. But not before a fun afternoon�s cycling for Rory, Nick and I.
We had been approaching our port of departure, Halong City along a road used to transport large quantities of coal. The result was a black film upon everything close to the road, including cyclists. It was fairly unpleasant, both due to the coal, and the trucks transporting it, even though it did pass through some great scenery and pleasant little towns.
It was in one of these that we decided to stop for lunch, a relatively simple affair in a small caf�. We noticed it sold beer by the pitcher... It was a hot day... So a beer seemed in order. This was very pleasant and seemed only right that we should order a second pitcher and then Nick, Rory and I decided that a third would be a very good idea. The others were keen to get on and perhaps not quite so enthralled at the prospect of cycling on Vietnamese roads whilst under the influence. So we stayed behind for another pitcher (or possibly two � it all blurs into one) whilst the others made their way to Halong city.
Once we had decided that we had had enough for now we paid the bill and moved on, flying like the wind, partly in order to catch up and partly because we were drunk and it seemed like fun. Now alcohol is a diuretic (it dehydrates you) so at this pace we rapidly became thirsty and the Vietnamese tap water in our water bottles just didn�t seem to cut the mustard so... we stopped at the next café where they too served beer by the pitcher. What fun we were having.
Having satiated our thirst for now we proceeded onwards to Halong City at stupid speeds giving our bikes and ourselves a battering on the less than perfect roads as we went. Once there we rapidly found a hotel and emailed the others to find out where they were and what their plans were. It turned out that they were on the other side of the river, a ferry boat crossing away so we let them know where we were and found ourselves a café to eat dinner in. It was here that we met Christophe, a Frenchman from Bordeaux who was going to Cat Ba the following day. Christophe was accompaniedby a helpful local trying to sell him a package to see Halong Bay and reach Cat Ba island the following day and when we worked out that if seven of us (6 cyclists and Christophe) chartered a boat it would be cheaper than the ferry we jumped at the chance. We would see the bay, stop at several of the famous caves and maybe a beach island, taking a whole relaxing day to reach Cat Ba, probably taking a crate of beers with us for the journey. Fantastic.
We located the others and narrowly prevented them from taking a similar deal and set off the next morning having stocked up on food and beer for the journey. It didn�t turn out to quite as generous as we had been led to believe! We passed through the spectacular scenery of Ha Long Bay, through many little bay and enclosed areas, completely shielded from the sea beyond. We saw villages on water, each house seemingly with it�s own dog, a little restricted in it�s exercise possibilities we thought (they could swim I suppose), and saw many small fishing boats and oyster catchers.
The caves however were not to be. After a while we began to get the feeling that we were heading fairly directly for Cat Ba. This turned out to be the case and the boat trip took about three hours less than expected. We felt a little cheated not to have seen the famous and spectacular caves but we had seen some amazing scenery and had an enjoyable day on the boat.
It was a struggle to persuade the pilot to take us to the port and resort that we were expecting and it later became apparent why. On eventually reaching it we made our way towards the jetty but when we were nearly there we found ourselves to be stationary. The boat it seems had grounded. This would explain the presence of a large dredger taking sand from the bay near the jetty.
So, we were left with only one option. Load our bikes onto tiny (and quite unstable) little boats with just enough room for one bike and several bags. We were a little uneasy about this but there was no real choice. With trepidation we lowered them down and made our way to the shore whilst our boat awaited high tide to float him off the sandbank. Serves him right for trying to curtail our trip in order to get another fare in!
We spent a very pleasant few days on Cat Ba relaxing, enjoying the food and generally doing very little, although some of the group did rather more energetic variations on very little. I will mention no names but both local business and Anglo-Swedish relations did very nicely out of some of us.
On returning to the mainland, we proceeded rapidly towards Ha Noi. Ha Noi is a very pleasant city with only one thing that might be seen as a major drawback, the traffic. The streets are jam packed with motorcycles and to a lesser extent bikes. There are cars too of course but motorbikes form the majority of the traffic. When pulled up at traffic lights you are absolutely surrounded by motorcycles waiting for the off. At this point it pays to be in a low gear so that when the lights change you can rapidly accelerate and keep pace with the flow of the traffic. It is safest to cycle as fast as you can in order that the speed of the other traffic relative to you is as low as possible. This allows you to move around and cross the carriageway much more easily. Accidents were a regular sight although only one of the ones we saw looked serious.
We stayed in the old quarter, near the lake that is at the centre of Ha Noi. The streets were narrow and characterful, lined with shops, cafes and hotels, not to mention the street vendors selling everything from egg baguettes to rain capes (these appeared on stalls apparently out of nowhere within seconds of it begining to rain). The area catered for backpackers very well - Viet Nam is a popular and rewarding destination. There were many fine arts and craft shops, displaying a rich variety of wares - wooden carvings, ornaments and traditional utensils such as chopsticks as well as fine painted fabrics, and clothes. The backpackers hostels provided western and local cuisine for those that needed a taste of home but there were many local restaurants too, some of which served Bia Hoi. Bia Hoi is local draught beer at a low price and also a correspondingly low alcohol content. Tastes fine and allows you to drink far longer (for both financial and biological reasons) than you would be able to should you be drinking imported or bottled beer. Fortunately one of these places was right opposite our hotel and since it also served food, it did a very good trade for the week we were there.
Whilst in Ha Noi I visited "Uncle Ho" (Ho Chi Minh) in his residence of 25 years in central Ha Noi. It is an impressive building, standing proud in the centre of pleasant gardens, a black marble affair with an entrance, an exit and and no perceptible windows. I have to say, for his age he is looking very good. Seriously however, the mausoleum is very impressive and dignified with guards standing to attention at the entrance, in the corridor and at the four corners of his coffin. There is a very genuine love and respect for Ho Chi Minh in Viet Nam and it is reflected in his mausoleum. I did not visit Mao in Beijing but my friends who did said that Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum was more impressive and dignified. Next, Lenin and perhaps in a few years time, Fidel.
Another reminder of that era was the B52 museum, presently under construction but with several outside exhibits it is possible to walk around. There is a Mig 21 fighter plane with details of the planes it shot down, various anti aircraft guns again with macabre statistics and a lot of twisted metal from the engine, wings and fuselage of a downed 52. There is also meant to be the remains of a B52 pointing out of a lake where it was shot down and I spent some time trying to find it but completely failed.
We had contacted the British Council in Ha Noi and talked to them about the possibility of talking to students and interesting the local media in our trip and the British Council's work - a mutually beneficial arrangement. In two days they put together an afternoon of events which included speaking to children from a local school, talking to the media about our trip and taking classes of older English students, mainly proffessionals from government and business. At the end of this we had our payback in the form of a few beers with the dirictor David Cordingly (thanks to all at the Ha Noi BC). An interesting, fun and worthwhile afternoon for all.
The following night was an eventful one. After a few beers Andy had returned to the hotel for an early night and it was not to long before I did so also. Andy was convinced that we were being watched by German evangelical gay activists from the building opposite. I think this was probably a result of a deeply repressed aspect of his psyche trying to find its way out to be freely expressed but nevertheless he retreated to his bed with the light off and the curtains drawn. We were both fast asleep (it was 3am) when we were rudely awakened by first laughter and then our door being opened by someone. It was soon apparent that it was not one but two people and they wished to occupy the third bed in our room. Both Andy and I felt it was a little rude bursting into someones room in the middle of the night and demanding to use their room with little intention of sleeping but it seemed we had little choice in the matter. So, the bed was occupied but before very long our friends retreated onto the balcony for a greater degree of privacy. It was at this point that Andy and I were able to confirm that we were both pissed off and Andy had the bright idea of turning the light back on. I did this and not only did it prevent their returning for the sake of their modesty but it provided a backlight for observers on the street below. It is quite cold at 3am but then they did have each others body heat.
After a while they began to fail to see the funny side of things although Andy and I were still very amused by the situation and like to think we have rather longer attention spans than the youth of today. At one point we were asked to have a little respect which we found particularly amusing and ironic. Ultimately a Vietnamese Army helmet Andy had managed to aquire turned out to be within grabbing distance of the door and was used as a modesty curtain for our female friend. All's fair in love and war as I had been taught on Cat Ba!
Our week in Ha Noi was a very enjoyable one due to the pleasant nature of the city and the wonderfully friendly Vietnamese people. They are some of the nicest people we have met on our trip, and there is a high standard. Alway pleased to see you and help you if they can, they have broad smiles, deep hearts and strong reserves of courage and resourcefulness (this came in handy a while back). They bear no grudges although Scott (from Texas) did occasionaly find himself asked his age (32) whilst they calculated that he could have played absolutely no part in the conflict. The calls of hello (Xin Jiao) we had from the sides of the road as we cycled in Viet Nam were some of the warmest and most heartening we have recieved on this trip and we always tried to return them with equal warmth. The 100th hello of the day does become a little more difficult however but it is hard not to reply with the same enormous smile they have given you.
Eventually it was time to move on from Ha Noi southwards. As we moved southwards we saw more signs of the war. More craters, more pill boxes and rusting metal but the national character remained the same.
5th March 2002
Hong Kong to Vietnam - we make our escape
Arriving in Kowloon peninsular, Hong Kong at around eight pm I had the name of the hotel my friends were staying at but no idea where it was. Getting a taxi was not an option since the roads in most of Kowloon were closed to traffic and jam packed full of partying people. Eventually I managed to follow directions to the right building but this had scores of hotels and hostels in it. I found the right one by sheer chance, getting off the lift on the right floor and walking into Rory and Andy. I rapidly deposited my bike, grabbed a beer and went out to wander the streets with them.
Hong Kong has various facilities that we had been looking forward to. Western goods and foods and services in shops etc but first on the list, having cracked open the beer, was the fish and chip shop. Quite a treat! The party atmosphere on the streets was amazing. As far as we could see there was no trouble and the police were very friendly. It was kind of reassuring to be around officers whose uniform was familiar in that it showed some evidence of British influence. We partied late, finding my way to the hostel bed at 3am.
The hostel, on the 16th floor of Cheungking Mansions it has to be said, was a bit of a dive. There were rats that let themselves into the kitchen, greasy walls that hadn't been washed or painted in years and a general lack of care and attention to the place or its inhabitants. The most advantageous thing about it was for Andy. A guy who worked freelance for movie makers used Cheungking Mansions as a feeding ground for budget travellers to work as walk-ons in films. In this case, the next Jackie Chan movie! Look out for a hospital scene in which a patient hides under the bed and has his hand run over by a trolley. Yes, Andy even had a stunt double for his hand.
It was an expensive week in Hong Kong. My bike cost 100 pounds to repair (more than the cost of Nick's Chinese bike!) and food and beer were very expensive, not to mention the 5 pounds we were paying every night for the privilege of sharing the rats' home. We were very glad to moving on to Macau although Andy and Stephane stayed behind to complete their unfinished business.
Rory, Scott, Nick and I took the boat into Macau and found it a small place with a pleasant atmosphere. We crossed a rather idiosyncratic bridge that was flat for most of its length but rose steeply in the centre to allow ships to pass underneath.
We made our way to a beach on the other side of the second island, passing through a very pleasant little village on the way. The whole of Macau had a very southern European feel to it, due to the Portuguese colonial influence, far more so than Hong Kong felt English. I felt very much as if I was on a European holiday. We spent a couple of days there, recharging our batteries after the hectic week in Hong Kong, relaxing on the beach and exploring the islands.
On our last night in Macau I suffered the misfortune of having a pannier taken from under my flysheet, rummaged thorough and having various items stolen. Some soap, wet wipes, sun tan lotion, nail clippers, toothpaste and a towel. They made a clean getaway (sorry).
We left Macau wondering why Stephane and Andy hadn't come to the beach as arranged and assuming they would be ahead of us. As we crossed back into China proper, the familiar smog reappeared and we knew we were back.
We had previously decided to travel to Vietnam via the city of Nanning and pass through the more northerly Friendship Border, however we suspected that it would be possible to cross the southerly one at Mong Cai. We also suspected that there would be a way to cross the wide estuaries between Mong Cai and us and therefore make a shortcut south of Nanning. Of course the thought of overtaking Andy and Stephane filled us with great pleasure!
So we took the southern route, making very good progress with the wind behind us and as expected found ferries of various descriptions to take us across the river. The most fun was the concrete punt onto which we squeezed our bikes after cycling down a windy path through a sugar cane plantation. We were peacefully transported across the river to another path from which we had to find our way back to the main road.
The style of the buildings changed quite significantly in this region beginning to look slightly more European and generally built of brick rather than concrete as in much of China. We passed through a few small towns with tall buildings lining the road and leading out onto squares with central monuments of various descriptions.
Shortly after crossing one of the larger rivers on a motor ferry we cycled through the town on the rivers edge and were swarmed by curious children when we stopped for food. There are many Chinese walking around in clothes emblazoned with logos which they have no understanding of. Scott saw one that took the biscuit however. A little girl of no more than about 6 or 7 years old was wearing a sweatshirt saying "Sex doggy style, sit up and beg and take it from behind." Somewhere there is a clothes designer laughing himself silly.
We eventually met up with Andy and Stephane in Quinzhou after leapfrogging them for several days. We had thought they had been ahead of us and after receiving a message on a mile post (standard practice to leave messages every 50km) we cycled the next 50km in an hour and 45 minutes to see if we could make up some time on them, only to find no message at the next 50. We're not sure how that happened but somehow we overtook them and ultimately cycled into Quinzhou at about the same time, bumping into them on the street as we were both looking for a hotel.
In Quinzhou we had a quite bizarre evening courtesy of the owner of a food stall where we ate. After explaining what we were doing in China and that we would very shortly be in Vietnam he asked us if we wanted to go to a nightclub and then led us across town to a place where he knew the owners and could get us in free.
After he had bought a couple of rounds of drinks we began to explore the club and the dance floor. The dance floor was very bizarre. It was mounted on springs meaning that not only did you find yourself catapulted into the air, but because springs only resonate at a certain frequency, it was very difficult to dance do any music that wasn't at that particular speed.
It took us a little while to notice that every time we approached a woman on the dance floor, we would find ourselves ignored (not the treatment we had grown used to in China or much of the trip). Not only that but they were usually dancing with other girls that we had assumed to be their friends. Slowly it dawned on us that we had not seen a single heterosexual couple on the dance floor and that all the men were dancing with men and all the women with women. It seemed normal enough at first for them all to be dancing with friends, since sexuality is not always flaunted in Asia but after a while, our lack of success combined with the fact of the same sex couples led us to realise that it was not going to be a good night for lonely travelers. The strangest thing was that the club in no way had any gay overtones or decor and the clientele did not seem obviously gay either. Stephane of course, did manage to find himself a nice, young Chinese girl who was persuaded of his charms. But that's just the way it always is!
By the end of the evening we had drunk many pitchers of beer and staggered out onto the street not knowing exactly where we were (our host had long since left). So we decided to go for the Chinese variation on the motor rickshaw - the Honda motorbike with a rear axle bolted on and space for about six people over the top. Nick decided that it would be a good idea to hang onto the metal frame that encloses the passenger compartment and drag his feet along the road. I wish him no ill, and much as I love him it would have been absolutely hilarious to see his hands slip and his jaw hit the tarmac! Such scenarios are best left in the imagination however.
When we reached the hotel Andy was far from ready for bed and keen to persuade Nick and myself to share in taking the evening further. Nick was briefly tempted but the lure of his bed seemed that bit more tempting than that one last shout.
We left for the border the following morning, making good time and crossing into Vietnam earlier than expected, that evening.
|