Day 1 – arrived, mooched around, felt a bit grumpy because I didn’t know anyone and didn’t know how to meet anyone. Met a group of Vietnamese students in the park and a Serbian guy in my dorm room; felt happier.
Day 2 – met up for coffee and language exchange with one of the Vietnamese students, Nhan, got on really well and he ended up giving me a tour round some of Saigon.
outside Cho Lon, the Chinese market
a new fruit! water coconut.
In the evening, went out for beers with the Serbian; met lots of new people including an English teacher from Estonia who wound up being my best friend in Saigon. He was very interesting, he likes Taoism and salad.
backpacker nightlife street
Day 3 – rented a motorbike and drove out to the Cu Chi tunnels, about 50kms from Saigon, but a much longer drive when you think you’re too cool for a map or a guidebook and get really lost. So worth it when I finally got there. The Cu Chi tunnels were dug by the Cu Chi villagers during the American war, pretty complicated underground network that at one point was 250kms long and ran all the way to Saigon. They were made really small so that only Vietnamese can fit in them; numerous bear traps are scattered around. Several nearby bomb craters show how close the Americans came to destroying what became a powerful Vietnamese defence, but the Cu Chi villagers succeeded in overcoming the “imperialist aggressors”, and the tunnels were never penetrated. A brilliantly biased propaganda film tells visitors how the villagers fought off the armed opponents with one hand, whilst growing crops to feed the guerillas with the other.
The tunnels have since been expanded and fortified for the benefit of tourists, but they were still TINY, also full of BATS and BIG FUCKING SPIDERS, and I was not particularly keen.
here an American attempts to descend into the hole. will he succeed?
descent complete, followed by screams of OH MY GOD IT’S SMALL IN HERE and OH MY GOD IT’S FULL OF BATS
this photo is useless because I have given no indication of scale
The evening saw more beers, a trip to a cool jazz club (there needs to be more live music in Hanoi), and a failed attempt at visiting the infamous “Apocalypse Now” night club. We arrived just as it closed, and despite the generous offers of “Hello, you come with me, I show you good time” made to my male friends, we declined and returned home.
Day 4 – went to a yoga class with the American guy I met at the Cu Chi tunnels. The class was brilliant and rekindled my love of yoga, which had fallen by the wayside when I was in Hanoi (nice mixing of metaphors). I will be keeping it up.
In the afternoon, I texted my friend Nhan saying I wanted to check out more of Saigon, and asking if he had any recommendations. He replied “you can go to district 7 to view luxury and romantic villa to know the rich in vn. if you want to see slum in vn, please go to district 4, called ‘xom nuoc den’ – black water. district 4 beside district 7.” He also advised me “enjoy your adventure, but don’t wear short dress, you look like so hot and it is not convenient to go there.” I took Nhan up on his advice, and spent the afternoon scooting about various places in appropriate dress. It’s fascinating to see the sudden change from District 4, with its narrow streets, piles of rotting rubbish and friendly hustle-and-bustle, just across the bridge into District 7, where the streets suddenly become wide, clean, and quiet, but without the vibe of people living their lives out on the streets.
Day 5 – went back to yoga class, and then accidentally read the entirety of “Into the Wild” in one very hospitable café, even though I’d been saving it for the bus journey to Phnom Penh. I couldn’t put it down; it seemed to capture the same feelings I have about running off to the other side of the world away from everyone I know and love; then dipping back into close friendships and relationships and a settled life whilst in Hanoi; but then feeling the need to leave all those as well, and get away from it all again. The differences between me and the subject of the book, are that I don’t have bizarre Oedipal father hatred, and I shall never shoot a moose.
I am now in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. A friend posted on Facebook earlier: “The lone traveller method: trust no one, rely on no one, believe in no one - except yourself - Plan, prepare, take action.” I’m doing better and better with trusting no one, but still failing to do any planning/preparation. I arrived in Phnom Penh this morning with no money, and no idea of what to do, where to stay, or where to go. The Fuck-The-Lonely-Planet approach worked fine in Vietnam because I knew the country, but currently I am feeling a bit lost. I am going to go for a walk in an attempt to orientate myself.
