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.

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Day 12- Saturday 22 September

A relaxing day by the only pool in Vang Vieng. Having sorted a hotel at LP (next stop) plus a VIP mini-bus for the next morning, I visited the local barbers who did as good a job as Jerry from ‘Have It Off’ for 1/10 of the price; 40,000 kip (£2) and a generous 10,000 kip tip (50p).

Day 13 – Sunday 23 September

It’s a long way to Tipperary, Timbuktoo and Luang Prabang. 7 hours in fact, although it can be done in 5 hours but our driver was no Stirling Moss. Casanova more like, as he managed to pick up two local H’mong women and convince them to travel to LP and back with him (a total of 10 hours out of their way). Hopefully, his sole motive was kindness as he also agreed to take our room key back to Vang Vieng that Harley had smuggled into his rucksack and cost 150,000 kip (£7.50) to replace (about the same price as a decent meal for 4 including drinks).

The road wound round bend after bend and Harley did a similar thing to Karen in the back seat until mercifully, he dropped off (luckily not off the side of the mountain which plunged down precipitously up to 1,000m in places). Ramshackle huts clung precariously to the edge, hanging on in places by the skin of their spindly wooden supports. Big wicker baskets of chillies, ginger and flower petals dried on the roofs along with the odd incongruous satellite dish.

We eventually got to LP at the meeting of the Mekong and Khan rivers and on by tuk tuk to the Senesouk guesthouse after a mini-tour of the driver’s relative’s houses that he insisted would provide more suitable accommodation. Our reserved room was a bit cosy for 4 but at least we managed to get a better one upstairs with an interesting view over the yellow- and red-roofed Wat Sene and the incumbent bright orange clad Buddhist monks (temple of 100,000 so called as it was constructed with a 100,000 kip (£5) donation from someone who discovered treasure in the neighbouring Khan river).

Day 14 – Monday 24 September

Excellent!! A French-style café which had WiFi too! Karen checks emails whilst I tuck into Le Grand Set (OJ, pot of coffee, croissant, toast, French bread, local pineapple jam, egg and bacon plus a bowl of delicious local fresh fruit) all for £3.50. Suitably refreshed/stuffed, we head off to the Royal Palace, which I am looking forward to as we missed the one in Bangkok. Respectfully attired, we make it in, but after 20 minutes, it closes for lunch. Not to worry, as over the road is the imposing hill of Mount Phousi. Karen goes back to the room claiming sickness but I reckon she’s afraid of the dreaded Phousi Pussy (not a local variant of Athlete’s Foot but a particularly vicious kitten which steals your crisps – honest it does).

Harley whinges his way up the first 20 steps claiming he has no legs, but having been told Spiderman can easily get to the top, he completes the remaining 308 in a crazed sprint, so that Ruby and I can genuinely not keep up. Luckily there is some shade from the trees that cover the hill as it’s hard work in black jeans and a long black shirt. It is worth it though for the 360 degree views of the Mekong on one side and the Nam Khan on the other with a Kwaiesque bridge (Srisavavong) and the golden dome in the distance of Wat Tao Hai (fittingly on a hill).

Fortified with orange squash and half a pack of crisps (as I mentioned pussy snaffled the rest) we head down the far side of the mountain past 7 Golden Buddhas in varying poses (one for each day of the week), into a cave with more of the same to a small hole with a large imprint of a Buddha’s foot. We also spot six giant 50 ft long Nagas (mythical sea serpents). Harley casually enquires if they are ‘real’ – if they had been I’d have sent one to terrorise the bloody ref who sent off Mikel for no apparent reason leading to Chelsea’s humiliating defeat 2-0 by Fergie’s boys. S**T.

Day 15 Tuesday 25th September

I’ve been brushing up on a bit of basic Buddhism in keen anticipation of our postponed trip to the former Royal Palace (now National Museum). I hope to spot the Trimurti (3 important Gods) – Brahma the creator with 4 faces,Vishnu the preserver with 4 arms and Siva the destroyer with 4 times the usual sized schlonger. Oh BO***CKS – closed on Tuesdays so we get a tuk tuk to the market for a T-shirt as I’m sweating like a racehorse in my long-sleeved palace-friendly Hackett top. I finally decide on a rather snazzy red number with pink and yellow flowers + brightly clashing buddhist gods (definite potential for the Armit ‘best’ dressed award).

Still culturally unfulfilled we head for Wat Thien Thong* - Temple of the flimsy underwear (* OK actually spelled Xieng Thong but the ‘X’ is pronounced ‘th’ so a valid gag). This is one of the few buildings to have survived successive Chinese raids at the end of the C18th and is strikingly beautiful made from age- blackened wood, with aesthetically pleasing ‘ski-jump’ roofs and wonderfully detailed glass mosaics on the outside depicting rural life in the C16th. Side chapels include a rare reclining bronze Buddha and a gilded wooden funeral chariot. Very impressive.

Day 16 Wednesday 26th September

We’re off on another Green Discovery Tour – the latest in Ecotourism supporting as they do the local community. Sadly Settha the shy student is a bit of a letdown after Ola the outgoing Orphan who was our guide in Vang Vieng. Settha’s English is OK but he is reactive to say the least and seems to know very little about Lao culture (or if he does he doesn’t let on). By the time we get to the Pak Ou caves – the highlight of our tour – Settha has remained steadfastly ‘stumm’ for 2 hours to Karen’s increasing annoyance. By this stage even if the caves had turned out to be the 8th Wonder of the World I doubt if she would have been too impressed. OK so there were 4000 buddhas but most were the size of an eggcup and the entire caves were not much bigger than a couple of squash courts (That reminds me I haven’t had any proper exercise for ages and am resisting the slimming potential of Lao cuisine as even here you can get my staple UK breakfast – the bacon and egg baguette).

The trip seemed destined to improve dramatically as by chance there was the annual boat racing being held at a village 30 minutes by boat up the river Ou. Sadly Settha remained in his shell ignoring dramatically sheer cliffs on one side and grazing water buffalo on the other. Even on arrival he led us up to the village via sewage ditch and appeared rather lost when his chosen restaurant at the smelliest part of the aforementioned poo stream was closed. Not to worry as we took matters into our own hands and headed purposefully for the loud music, Beerlao umbrellas and views of the finish line. Poor old Settha was now completely flummoxed and couldn’t even manage to order a beer but I stepped in and quickly found 3 cold ones and before long it all kicked off – boats were flying past à la Hawaii-5-0, Karen was dancing with the local Posh with video footage from Becks and I was tucking into the local delicacy – Beerlao with a cockroach chaser (not bad apart from the unchewable legs). Settha’s lunchbox was very tasty too (steady ladies) including an appetising Psa fish marinated in delicious marmitey sauce ( actually fish brain extract which is probably why Settha enjoyed eating the entire Psa’s head). Anyway we returned downstream in far better humour for our last night in the cramped Senesouk.

Day 17 Thursday 27th September

Yippee I’m rich to the tune of 3.7 million. Admittedly they are Kip + I did have to change up Ruby’s money for the whole year to get them but I’m feeling strangely guilt free. I’ll pay her back sometime and stitch her up on the exchange rate but probably not as much as the HSBC two pronged rip off - 2% on the exchange rate + £2.50 per transaction – quite a bit as the maximum withdrawal from the ATM is £38. Hence the real reason for raiding Ruby’s stash. Feeling flush we move to more appropriate surroundings – The Villa Santi Resort Hotel (luckily it was my turn to choose and although Karen kicked up a fuss she’s loving it really).

Day 18 Friday 28th September

We must be spending too much with Green Discovery as they present us with long service awards in the form of fluorescent green eco-friendly metal water flasks (very useful for keeping vodka cool + subtle for sneaking a wee dram into the fresh lemon juice at the pool bar). Poor Settha’s been ditched and Nyi is much more friendly although ironic that his name means big in lao and yet he’s nyi to a grasshopper.
We are treated to a full cultural immersion visiting a village of each of the 3 major ethnic groups. First it’s the Lao people who tend to live in th lowlands close to the river. We came across them on the last trip making Lao Lao or rice whisky (this is often bottled with a snake or scorpion in to bestow extra virility on the drinker but it was more like brewer’s droop for me after my Lao Piranha with 3 shots lao lao fresh limes + tabasco). This time they are more interested in pottery that is fired in huge underground kilns and sold to the local guesthouses as lanterns.

Next we visit the Khmu who live in the forests above the rivers with their goats, ducks, dogs and waterbuffalo that we get closer to than the people themselves who are a shy and retiring folk who believe heavily in the spirit world. and also the world of pain if you foolishly subject yourself to one of their massages ( she was only 5ft 2in + practically beat the C**P out of me).

Finally the Hmong who monopolize the high ground and who used to terrorise the tourists minivans and coaches on the road to Van Vieng until they were persuaded to desist in return for more fertile land closer to the river. Originally descended from the Chinese Ming they now spend most of the time sewing + selling bags, embroidery + dolls to the tourists. It seems a shame that these tribes seem to be losing their identity a bit and pandering to the whims of the West but from a selfish point of view it’s good not to have to shield the kids from bandit’s potshots (a problem up to as recently as 5 years ago).

Finally after a superb lunch amidst the beautiful hills and paddy fields we get to the Kuang Si Waterfall Park. The falls themselves are impressive cascading down 500m to more gentle pools where we take a cautious dip. We also see a tiger saved from the poachers who killed it’s mother and some Black bears confiscated from smugglers who sell them on to the Chinese who stick catheters into them + keep them barely alive (no pun intended) for months to farm the bile for medicines and soups. YUK. Maybe they should print up some Bearlao T-shirts (pun intended this time as the Beerlao T-shirt is the most common in LP) to make some money to help stop this disgusting practice.

Day 19 Saturday 29th September

Sod it let’s get a babysitter in and get all sorts of messed up so we do. Our initial concerns about the girl speaking no English are gradually eroded by the aforementioned lemon juice vodkas by the pool. Ruby is 7 for God’s sake and well capable of looking after Harley and the babysitter. 3 bottles of rather fine Chablis and a million Kip later we are not in the slightest bit worried (we can hardly remember their names) instead we are more concerned with truth or dare which involves me jumping of the balcony, running round the pond and hurdling a hedge…twice ..naked.

Day 20 Sunday 30th September

S**T that was a bad idea I realise as my ankle gives way en route to the bathroom the following morning. Luckily my Heath Robinson skills are developing well on this trip and I adapt a stubby cooler into a pretty effective ankle strap (also doubles up at night into an elbow strap for Karen’s dodgy elbow). Eventually we get to the Palace which is both impressive (particularly the Prabang (Golden Buddha) itself given by the King (Luang)) and mercifully short for the by this stage grumpy hobbler.

Day 21 Monday 1st October

Eureka Harley swims without armbands for the first time. 17 seconds and over 5 metres – this must be akin to what the Wright brothers felt and not far off their time + distance either. The thing is they packed up and went home after a couple of attempts whereas Harley keeps on going to the point of near exhaustion the determined little blighter. He clearly takes after his mother whereas Ruby has the paternal lazy gene and just grabs onto whatever happens to be floating nearby rather as Pooh would to a stray honeypot during times of severe flooding. She does however make giant strides with diving and underwater swimming as well as bombing and general loud noises around (luckily we have the pool pretty much to ourselves).

Day 22 Tuesday 2nd October

We realise that we are behind on Ruby’s schoolwork and her brain is turning to mush so it’s a full day of intensive tuition for her whilst Karen goes of on a cookery course.
Her brain starts working again after a couple of hours and we catch up on her diary, spelling and maths. There’s even time for some Geography as well as a bit of an Art/French combo where I draw a beautiful landscape (as does Ruby) which I label with the French words for house, mountain, sky, tree etc. So fine is my artwork that Karen thinks it’s Ruby’s. Oh well they do say talent skips a generation.

Day 23 Wednesday 3rd October

It’s La Kong Laos and Chao Anh Vietnam.