Ho Chi Minh

Unsurprisingly, as we got off our bus in the centre of Ho Chi Minh City, we were met by the standard group of locals offering cheap rooms but at least this bus was full of westerners so they couldn’t focus on just us. I've thought about trying to explain that the price of their room, however cheap they offer it, plus the price of a prepaid room adds up to quite an expensive night’s sleep, but their level of English rarely exceeds “You want cheap room?” so I decide on the usual series of half a dozen “no thank yous” to each one.

We have a flight to Australia booked on the 2^nd June which gave us about 8 weeks to travel through Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia however, due to enjoying it so much, we already spent two and a half of them in Vietnam with still a few places to go. We need to speed up so immediately, before even finding the hotel, we booked our transport out of the city on a tour into the Mekong Delta to leave the two days later.

Our hotel’s road number was 141/6 which means it was at number 6 in the tiny alleyway located at number 141 on the main road. For some reason we arrived in the city in a more excitable mood than usual and found the prospect of living down some dodgy looking back-alley quite exciting. It turned out the alley, which was fairly quiet on arrival, was actually a busy little side street full of other small hotels, restaurants and stalls and which even acted as a quick cut through for motorbikes. Other than friendly and useful staff, which are traits almost guaranteed from anyone in this country, there was little to report about the hotel as we had, following our exuberance in Mui Ne, returned under our £5 a night budget.

Linz seemingly being lead down our dodgy alley

In the evening we headed back towards a restaurant, called Allez Boo, we had noticed earlier fully intending to eat there. However, despite being willing to enter, we were effectively herded into the restaurant by about six staff with huge smiles shouting “Lovely Jubbly” at us. It seems, in the eyes of the entire Vietnamese race, that this phrase is all we say in England as it seems to be the only response they ever give after we tell them where we’re from. After dinner we went for a wander round the other bars and restaurants in the area before getting desert on the way to the hotel. All the time being weary not to step too close to the staff of Allez Boo’s for fear of being rounded up again. The only slightly downer on the night, which we actually laughed off and found more puzzling, was when I was drive-by-graffitied. It is exactly how it sounds in that when I was waiting to cross the road a brat on a scooter drove by and sprayed a line of red paint across my chest and bag. It was all a bit surreal.

The view from our table on the third floor of Allez Boo

Ho Chi Minh City, the capital of the former South Vietnam, is named after the former leader of North Vietnam whose face appears to feature on everything here including all banknotes and posters in all cities. Our only full day exploring the city started slowly as we were unable to extend our stay in our original hotel beyond the pre-booked one night. Therefore we had to move down the alleyway to another, very similar, hotel and finally around midday, after successfully locking ourselves out the room, we could start the day.

Our first stop was the main post office in the city which, as well as being quite an attractive building for such a tame service, was a necessity as I was starting to realise I had packed a few things I really didn't need, and given the frailties of my backpack, I thought I should send home. Items which didn't make the cut included souvenirs from China, half a library of books, a leather jacket I can’t believe I ever thought I would need and some cold weather clothes. Im not going to be home for another few months yet for some reason I chose to send these items home via airmail rather than by land so I was hit by quite a shock regarding the price. I left the post office both 4.9kg and £45 lighter.

Following the post office we spent a little time walking around the Notre Dame cathedral and then a modern, very high end, shopping centre. The latter was merely for the use of its air-conditioning as the temperature in Ho Chi Minh was sweltering compared to all our previous towns as we were lacking either a sea breeze of cooler mountain air.

The selection of U.S. military planes and artillery outside the War Remnants museum

Finally we reached our main attraction for the day, the War Remnants Museum, after a crippling walk through the wide open streets of the city. The museum, rather than teach the history of the Vietnam War, chose to show the brutal effects it had on the land and people of the country. Having not being around at the time I was unaware of the scale of the level of protest against the American involvement in Vietnam as early exhibits showed the unrest caused in countries as far apart as Argentina and Mongolia. The following two floors, however, chose to show the reason for such outrage including seemingly endless photos of gruesome torture and brutal tactics employed by the Americans on North Vietnamese troops but even civilians of all ages. Although it’s hard to distort the truth when there was so much photographic evidence of the atrocities, I couldn’t help but think the museum was taking a fairly one sided stance and tried to avoid leaving with my mind made up about it all. Don’t forget that the museum is based in a communist country and in a city which celebrates the victory of North Vietnam in such obviousness to have renamed itself, from Saigon, after the leaded of the North; Ho Chi Minh. So bias is a possibility here.

If you have managed to force yourself through more brutality and history than I thought I’d ever be including in any blog, then well done. Following the eye-opening, yet hardly pleasurable, museum we headed off to the Presidential Palace which was just a short walk away. This, of course, is providing you don’t reach the palace walls and then decide the entrance would be reached sooner by going one way round them only to find they were almost immediately the other way. After an exhausting walk around the outside of the palace we finally made it inside the walls where we resisted the temptation to dive in their fountain and entered the building itself. The palace, used mainly by government officials and foreign diplomats, was a series of meeting rooms and residences along with a fairly interesting bomb shelter with enough rooms and electrical cable to run the entire country from. The highlight of the underground rooms being the time spent directly in front of their colossal room fans as the heat was pushing on unbearable.

Being kicked out the Presidential Palace may have been worth it for a jump in the fountain

Despite only leaving the hotel around four hours ago we were completely spent and just got a taxi back to our room to cool down until dinner. I can’t remember what I had that night as we found ourselves thoroughly distracted by weird scenes on a table near us. Two men were sitting topless at their table while a man from the street was giving them a bizarre massage including affixing glass jars to their backs which seemed to be trying to suck the skin off them. I don’t think they knew what they were getting into when they said yes to the offer of a massage. Once again our meal finished with a trip to an ice cream bar.

After dinner we walked further from our hotel to a night market where Linz bought a new watch and I, having finally had enough of being told everything was “Lovely Jubbly”, took it on myself to teach the stall owner that no one in England says that. The problem was he wanted an alternative to use in future and, due to a severe case of buckling under the pressure, I spent five minutes teaching him the phrase “Top o’ the morning!” despite this being thoroughly Irish. Knowing that I’d made the situation worse, and hoping he’d soon lose the sheet of paper he wrote it down on so as to not forget it, we left the market and returned to the hotel.

On our last morning we were up early to join our tour group which would see us spend two days and nights in the Mekong Delta and, full on breakfast of a pineapple muffin and a croissant, we boarded our bus. Before leaving the hotel I had found it easier to pack my backpack now I had removed some of the lesser needed items, and even better it now seemed lighter to carry. Apparently it wasn’t light enough though as I could do little to prevent the bus driver  hoisting it onto his back, using only the duct taped part as a hand hold, and then had no choice but to watch as it completely gave way and fell to the floor. Minutes away from a two day tour of a river delta with one strap. Things were far from Lovely Jubbly.