HANOI

HANOI
(Days 23 to 34 Wednesday 3rd October to Sunday 14th October)

RWC SEMI-FINAL
You bloody beauty – I’ve always said that boy Wilkinson was a good player. What a fantastic evening thanks to my ever gorgeous and patient beloved who not only looked after the kids during my 8 hour drinking binge but also helped undress me at 5am, slightly handicapped as I was after several gin and tonic pint flyers (don’t ask) against the Aussies, who not only lost the fliers but sadly didn’t make it to the semi-final stage this year either. My darling also became guardian angel @ 8am by grabbing me when, a trifle disorientated, I was attempting to open the 3rd floor bedroom window under the misapprehension it was the bathroom door. At least the evening was cheap – 475,000 Dong (£16) including dinner, 10 pints Tiger beer + the unfeasibly large G+T’s. As it happened an onlooking Septic was so impressed with this boat racing novelty that he paid for the lot including the taxi – God bless America.

BIKERS AND B-52’s
So, I hear you cry, the semi-final of the RWC was on the 13th October so what happened to the last 10 days. Well it all went by in the flash of a motorbike headlamp or more accurately the cacophony of their 2.5 million horns that always seem to be beeping simultaneously. Cars as well for that matter – our taxi driver to the airport felt the need for 4 loud blasts every time anything came within a car length (basically all the time) and then had the cheek to demand a tip. “I’ll give you a tip” say I “ease up on the old horn and you might end up with some headache free customers prepared to part with some of their hard-earned dong.”

You have to hand it to these Hanoians though they sure can ride a bike. Traffic lights and zebra crossings are largely ignored as is any junction – cars and bikes simply flow continuously from all directions at once often on the wrong side of the road – but incredibly it works. In spite of more close shaves than Victor Khyam, the bikes manage to narrowly avoid each other as well as cars, pedestrians and the ubiquitous cyclos (pushbike taxis rather like tricycles in reverse with an added passenger seat and rider with inbuilt ‘circuitous route’ and ‘double original agreed price’ programming).

This riding expertise was an unknown on the first day and it took ages to get anywhere but by day 3 we were striding purposefully child in hand across the sea of traffic, knowing/praying it would part magically before our very eyes provided we continued in the same direction and at the same speed. Soon we became so acclimatised that we were travelling ‘en famille’ on a couple of ‘xe ôm’ motorbike taxis. Harley was in between an assured Mum and good rider whereas relaxed Ruby was in the middle of a petrified Dad and a lackadaisical driver with mobile phone to one ear. Foolhardy parenting you may say, especially with no helmets, but that’s just the way it is over here so you either join in or miss out.
One particular driver was so good that he could crawl at 0.1mph balancing 3 people without touching the ground. He soon doubled up as tour guide of the B-52 ‘museum’. No not a shrine to the wonderful trio of Baileys, Kahlua and Grand Marnier but rather a field full of plane debris. The bonus was that we could all clamber about on the bits of bomber whilst the guide insisted on family shots at various key spots. The poignant symbolism of the site only became apparent on climbing some steps at which point we could appreciate that the B-52 wreckage was all arranged in its correct place creating the image of a defeated prostrate behemoth beneath a small but shiny Mig fighter raised up above it in victory. The made in Russia label had been removed.

UNCLE HO
Oh dear Mum thinks I’m turning into a communist as I said that Ho Chi Minh, founder of the Indochina Communist Party in 1930 and creator of the Viet Minh in 1940 (later referred to by the US as the Viet Cong) seemed like a good man. Well how would I know but he’s certainly treated like a God over here even now almost 40 years after his death. Not only did they change the name of their capital city to honour him but they also pickled him for posterity (in spite of his express wishes to be cremated) so that people could continue to pop in and see him.

We were intrigued and decided to pay a visit ourselves but sadly the Russian embalmers had taken him away for his annual ‘top up’ holiday and the Mausoleum was closed (impressive from the outside nonetheless). So well respected is he that no-one can drive/ride within about a square mile of his final resting place so it was a great relief to be able to let Ruby and Harley run free for once without the constant fear of a cyclo/taxi/motorbike/child sandwich.

Just round the corner was the ornate presidential palace that Uncle Ho had declined to live in choosing instead the electricians shack. You have to give the guy respect for sticking to his socialist principles even if you do feel a bit sorry for poor old ‘sparky’. Even when in semi-retirement he allowed himself the relative luxury of a brand new house by a beautiful lake brimming with carp, it was still pretty much a glorified wooden hut on stilts. From these peaceful surroundings he formulated his messages of wisdom to the masses: ‘thou shalt not allow the insidious invasion of evil capitalism’; ‘thou shalt cremate me and spread my ashes north, centre and south’; ‘thou shalt rise at sparrow fart and exercise around the nearest lake even if you’re 90’. So what if Capitalist has crept in a bit and there’s now a KFC in Hanoi and who cares if HCM is still stuck in a mausoleum like a pickled onion after nearly four decades, at least the old codgers still get up @ 5am every morning to do Tai Kwon Slow around the lake. 1 out of 3 ain’t bad unless you’re Meatloaf.

SAPA
Bright and breezy would not be a good description of how I felt as we were rushed off the train at Lai Cai @ 6am on the way to Sapa. In fact I’ve had better Monday mornings as a trainee Chartered Accountant and that’s saying something. Not only was I still recovering from the RWC excesses of 2 days previously (actually finished only 24 hours previously) but I had also had practically no sleep on the train as, although the bed was pretty much long enough, the width was barely sufficient for my ample girth. Added to this Harley had been awake for hours with infected mosquito bites as despite having carried a medicine chest fit for a small army halfway round the world (including its magical treasure of Calpol) it had been left in Hanoi. Even when he did finally succumb to slumber @ 3am I was constantly alert fearing he would fall out off the top bunk where he had insisted on sleeping.

On the minibus from Lai Cai to the Topas Ecolodge my tiredness gradually gave way to sheer amazement at the beauty of the magical landscape (nothing to do with mushrooms I promise). Topas Lodge itself was perched on a limestone outcrop at the top of a mountain with sheer drops on three sides and fabulous views over two valleys. On one side was a verdant valley of terraced paddy fields sometimes up to 100 in a continuous descent to the valley floor like the moss-covered steps to some gargantuan temple in the clouds. The other side dropped away almost vertically to a meandering rocky stream and then steeply up the far side to mountainous peaks shrouded in mist of which the highest of all was Mount Fan Si Pan itself at 3143 metres (Vietnam’s highest mountain).

We befriended the Danish couple managing the resort (not because she was foxy but rather due to her two young children and dog who were good company for Ruby and Harley). Having been told horse riding wasn’t possible due to a recent bad accident (and from the look on her face we’re talking death or at the least severe injury) we were recommended a short trek through the rice paddies, which was muddy but enjoyable. We were invited down onto the paddy itself by a group of Red Dao to see the rice being cut, thrashed and de-husked. Ruby and Karen took an inadvertent mudslide shortcut and almost got too close for comfort to a water buffalo they use for ploughing. All was fine in the end and we left in good spirits feeling that we had got close to the real Vietnam that many spend days trekking to see.

The next day I’m really in the doghouse as I’ve booked the most expensive hotel in Sapa and it doesn’t even have a great view (well it might but it’s cloudy so we can’t tell). At least it has a huge family room, excellent breakfast and a pool but I’m still down on brownie points so the next day I suggest another trek this time up Ham Rong (Dragon’s Jaw Hill) to get the excellent views promised in our guidebook. You guessed it still cloudy but we had a good steady climb through ‘Stone Forest’ to ‘Cloud Mountain’ and ‘Heaven’s Gate’. On the way down, most interesting of all, we went to an ethnic minority performance where we saw ten of the local tribal dances including the Red Dao, Flower Hmong, Tay, and Black Hmong. Harley wasn’t as impressed as I was and fell asleep after one dance giving me a dead leg followed by a stiff back from carrying him down the mountain still blissfully in the land of Nod from which he could only be roused by the smell of fresh pizza. Meanwhile a fifteen-year old Black Hmong called Ha became great friends with Ruby and after exchanging gifts promised to keep in touch by email. A great trip rounded off by a farewell drink at the bar opposite the train station where I thought 50000 Dong (£1.70) was a bit steep for a vodka and was hoping it was a large one and it was – the whole bottle in fact.

HALONG BAY
If I was in the doghouse for blowing the budget in Sapa I’m now in the rabbit hutch. I couldn’t spend the night of the RWC semis on a boat so I changed the booking from the luxury Dragon Pearl (36 berth) to the super-luxury Lagoon Explorer (8 berth). £300 a night compared to £300 for 4 nights in Sapa (2 0n the train). OUCH that’s a small fortune out here if you consider that a 3 star family room costs around £25 a night.

I needn’t have worried as it turned out to be money well spent. The boat was immaculate with en suite loo and shower in every cabin (one for the boys and one for the girls). A polite staff of 4 were on hand to tender to our every whim which basically meant 12 course meals every 3 hours including fresh squid, crayfish and crab washed down with some half decent Pouilly Fumé for a change. The scenery was stunning too sailing through a deep turquoise sea as calm as a millpond studded with hundreds of tiny rugged tree-topped islands. In mythology the bay is said to have been created by an enormous beast careering into the sea cutting the bay from the rocks as it thrashed its way to the depths (Halong means ‘descending dragon). In actual fact the ‘tower-karst’ scenery is the by-product of millions of years of river erosion on the fragile limestone to create a pitted and very beautiful landscape (now a World Heritage site).

We also visited: Hang Hanh (amazing or surprising cave) and it lived up to its name stretching a full 2 km; a peaceful lagoon accessible only by small boat through a tiny archway in the rocks, where the stillness was only disturbed by a group of grunting gibbons and finally our first beach of the trip. We all returned to Hanoi saying it was money well spent + that we would do it again but for longer if we ever came back to Vietnam.

BYE BYE HANOI
I don’t remember much about the last 2 days in Hanoi, apart from the aforementioned 11/2 hours of glorious rugby victory against ‘les bleus’, as this also involved an 8 hour drinking binge and 24 hr hangover. So what did I forget to mention. There was the central Hoan Kiem Lake (lake of the restored sword) so called as legend has it that in the C15th a tortoise took back the magical sword from Emperor Le Loi that had been sent from heaven to drive the Chinese away. There is still a stuffed tortoise on a little island accessible only by the pretty red ‘sunbeam’ bridge as well as a tortoise tower in the middle of the lake to commemorate. A lovely tranquil spot if it wasn’t for the thousands of riders seemingly in constant practice for the motorbike version of the Indy 500 round and round the lake. The West Lake (Ho Tay) is much bigger (13km circumference) so it is possible to hire a couple of swan shaped pedalos and find a bit of peace and quiet if it wasn’t for the kids insisting on turning it into a game of swan bumper cars.

Then there was the Temple of Literature (Van Mieu Pagoda) dating from the C11th and founded by Emperor Ly Thahn Tong who dedicated it to Confucius whose statue is still there today. This was Vietnams’s first University and the intellectual and spiritual centre of the kingdom from C15th to C19th. The names of the 1306 graduates were recorded on tablets of stone carried by 112 tortoises and 82 still survive. Apparently this temple barely survived the arrival of communism as the Confucian principles of the hierarchical nature of human society with everyone in their proper place was practically heretical but luckily it was deemed to be of more value aesthetically than detrimental doctrinally.

Also worth a mention is the Hoa Lo prison better known as the Hanoi Hilton. Here during the French occupation patriotic Vietnamese were incarcerated and by 1953 there were 2000 prisoners in a place designed for 500. Despite the appalling conditions with many being tortured and some guillotined as well as spending most of their time cuffed by the ankles about 40 did manage to escape via the sewer on Christmas Eve 1944 by hacking their way through thick metal bars with nothing more than a metal saw the size of a toothpick. The French were probably half cut but even so it was an impressive effort, a sort of speeded up version of the Shawshank Redemption.

The prison was also used to house US POW’s during the American War and the propaganda photos are still there to show how great efforts were made to ensure their stay was as comfortable as possible (yeah right). Still at least they had stopped using the guillotine by then + most captured pilots did make it back to the US in 1973.

Finally I must just mention the Water Puppet Show that was enchanting (especially for the kids). Water Puppetry was invented by rice farmer’s in flooded fields in Northern Vietnam over 1000 years ago but has only relatively recently reached the towns. Skilled puppeteers cleverly manipulate quite large puppets made from water resistant fig wood. This is accompanied by melodious traditional music to give the audience a feel for rural Vietnamese life in a dozen of so scenes. The most memorable were the dragons which actually do breathe fire, the little boy playing the flute on top of a busily ploughing water buffalo and the multicoloured fish constantly flying out of the water to evade the fisherman’s net.

Talking of water it’s raining in our next stop Hué but apparently it’s one of the wettest places on earth so no surprise there. I’ll miss the hustle and bustle of Hanoi but not the bast**d pickpocket who just swiped a cool million dong – oh well only Bill Gates would be less hard hit from losing a million as it’s only about £30.