Vietnam: More than just Migs & Skyraiders (part 6)
Week 5: Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) to Pho Quoc Island
Finding a hotel within walking distance of the main hub of Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) was a good move as the city seemed more congested than Hanoi. Though HCMC has a population of around 12 million (Hanoi has around 7 million), it's the addition of cars into the traffic equation that are the cause of the jams. When the roads become grid-locked, the moped riders simply take to the pavements
If I were to name two of HCMC's main tourist destinations it would be the Museum of War Remnants and the Reunification Palace; both are within a few hundred yards of each other. Don't be fooled by the former's title. Naively, I thought it would be just another 'Migs & Skyraiders' /hardware of war, museum. On the contrary, I spent a very thought-provoking 3 hours within its walls. The Agent 'Orange' and war photographers exhibition (Vietnam War Requiem) are very powerful displays. Across the way is the Reunification Palace. Standing on the lawn you can't help but imaging the scene on 30th April 1975 when a column of tanks broke down the grand gates leading to the palace and ended Vietnam's 'occupation'. Two of the tanks can be seen in the grounds, their guns still aimed at the building. I found HCMC a tad more expensive than other cities in Vietnam, even more so if you eat at one of the many western food outlets: 150,000 VND (£5) for a bolognaise, 70,000 VND (£2.50) for a latte.
The 3 star Hotel was $20 per night. Something that struck me about HCMC was the level of poverty you could see at street level; I will always remember the man paralised from the waist down, crawling, catapiller-fashion, on his side along the edge of a busy road selling lotto tickets; so much for the 'Socialist' Republic of Vietnam.
It was nice to stretch my legs in HCMC, but the road south beckoned me on to my final destination, Phu Quoc Island.
The Reunification Palace
The road to Phu Quoc Island took me across the Mekong Delta. Due to the fact that most people who live here are only about two metres above sea level and live on the banks of what is mostly a waterway highway; living space is at a premium. The roads are fairly modern and run dead-straight for km upon boring km
They are also riddled with pot-holes all the way to Rich Gia, one of the ferry ports which serves Phu Quoc Island.
On the way I stayed at Vong Cong, a main ferry terminal for crossing one of the larger river junctions. Waking up the following morning I found an opened condom wrapper beside my pillow; strange I didn't recall any night-time visitor ? More likely left by a previous occupant
The following day I entered Rich Gia and the ferry to Phu Quoc. Arriving a few hours before the scheduled ferry, I was confused at the ticket office by the ticket seller's reluctance to allow the XR on board. The language barrier didn't help, but from his frowning face and body language, the XR was not going on his company's ferry. Outside I pondered on how I was going to get the bike to Phu Quoc; the company's (Sea Dong) web site mentioned 'motorbikes welcome'. In the blistering heat outside I was approached by a gent offering to sell me a ticket in return for cash, mmmm
.
He seemed genuine, but after working hard for my cash, I'm one of those people who is reluctant to hand it out willy-nilly. He then phoned another chap who explained that he was indeed a genuine ticket vender and that he would photograph my number plate and forward it to his ferry company (Ngoc Thanh) which carried bikes. With no other option I handed over 900,000 VND (£30) and took his ticket; not knowing whether I had been conned, or not. Sometimes you just have to go on your gut feeling. As it happened I returned to the ferry port at the appointed time and with a little hassle, only resolved when my ticket vendor friend arrived, boarded the ferry. I watched on tenter-hooks as the XR was man-handled across a plank and then along the very narrow side of the boat with nothing to save it from going to the bottom of the Gulf of Thailand if the two men lost their grip. It was then strapped to the bow, where the 2 hr crossing gave it a good wash. All passengers were accommodated inside the high-speed catamaran.
A few anxious moments as a moped is loaded onto the Phu Quoc ferry. The XR was a bit heavier and wider
Arriving on eastern side of Phu Quoc Island I rode the sort distance to the main town of Duong Dong on the west coast and booked in at one of the many hotels here. With the gin-clear sea and white coral sandy beaches only 100 yards away (across the main road), it did indeed feel like paradise. Phu Quoc was a place to for me to relax and reflect on my journey all the way from Lao Cai on the Chinese boarder to this peaceful and tranquil haven in the south. Whatever happened now, the feeling of accomplishing that north-south journey was one of satisfaction, but also sadness, as I knew that my time in this pretty country amongst wonderful people would soon come to an end.
Duong Dong beach, the main resort town on Phu Quoc Island
Chez Carol on the NW coast of Phu Quoc.
The next few days were spent lazing around the splendid beaches of Phu Quoc, but I was painfully aware that time was slipping though my hands. It was already six days into December and my flight home was booked for 11 December. Before I left I visited the somewhat incongruous old POW camp on this charming island. During the American war Phu Quoc was the location of a notorious torture camp for captured VC and NVA troops. The exhibits behind the barbed wire fences were as shocking as any I'd come to experience on my trip. The dioramas of the differing forms of torture wouldn't be allowed on public display in the UK.
I left Phu Quoc and its sun-drenched tropical beaches and retraced my route back to HCMC along the Mekong's pot-holed dyke routes; I'd looked at other routes, but just gritted my teeth and rode. The journey back only took one whole day, I was on a mission to get to Hanoi to catch my flight, but it was punctuated by two break-downs. Firstly my clutch cable snapped and within the hour, the XR's chain parted. Both were rectified promptly (and inexpensively, about 60p for each repair) by the roadside Vietnamese mechanic; a person who will always hold a place in my heart. Always willing to help, no matter what the hour
Finding my way into HCMC was confusing at first, especially as it was after dark and pouring with rain, but once I'd located the main down-town area I re-located my hotel easily. The following day I went to the railway station about 300 yards away and within 30 mins of arriving at the freight department the XR was de-fuelled by a young lad orally siphoning the last dregs of the XRs tank into a can, and on its way to Hanoi; cost 900,000 VND (£30).
The train journey takes 30+ hours !!! and the three seat classes are wood (hard), sponge (normal) or night sleeper (bed). I 'chickened-out' of this endurance test and flew up to Hanoi in 1hr 30 mins, cost 3,000,000 VND/£120, but worth every penny after seeing those wooden train seats.
Arriving back in Hanoi I caught the shuttle mini bus into the city (£3) which was a fraction of the cost of a taxi. I stopped first at Mr Phung's to thank him for allowing me an extra week's hire of the XR; which he never charged me for (what a guy
). Phung seemed genuinely pleased to see me safely returned.
Hanoi was a tad cooler than HCMC and it was pleasant to walk about without sweating one's bollock's off. At the end of my trip I had planned to spend some time at Halong Bay; a tourist hub just off shore, but alas it was not to be due to my departure date of the 11th. Instead I spent the last few days looking at Hanoi's architecture and enjoying its parks while sipping the odd iced-coffee. By this stage I'd been weened off Italian coffee and was firmly hooked on the local stuff; so much so that about 5 kgs of my return baggage allowance was taken up by the stuff
The XR turned-up as planned at Hanoi railway station two day's prior to my departure; phew. Its collection was as pain-free and easy as the delivery procedure; simples, just show the office clerk my receipt and collect the bike. Petrol was on sale in the nearby street (in bottles) and off I went to the Ho Chi Minh Trail museum about 15 kms out of town. The museum isn't easy to reach by public transport, hence my last mission on the XR. Next to the museum was a small army garrison, the guards to which usually have an average age of 20. Since arriving in Vietnam I'd longed to get a photograph of these 'well turned out lads', but most, if not all, will give you a stern look and say 'no photo, no photo'. Almost giving up on the idea, I tried my luck one more time (as the garrison was off the beaten track with no senior officers supervising them) and was taken a back when all three of them, one with an AK47, stood in front of the XR for a pose; it made my day.
Before handing back the XR to Phung I gave it a well-earned wash; underneath all that Vietnamese dust and grime was a tasty looking XR400. I'd ridden an XR400 previously as part of my job (not many jobs out there where you get paid for riding an XR 400 around the forests of Wales..... legally) and this Vietnamese bike had well and truely lived up to the robust and hardy traits of the Welsh beast I'd ridden previously. I wished my Welsh version had been fitted with an electric start, lol.
There endeth my Vietnam trip, total mileage nearly 4,000 kms (2,500 miles).
Thrill factor: 100%. I'd recommend it to anyone.
Top tip: Never take your eyes off the ball (road), not even for two seconds.
Before I sign-off I'd like to say a big thank you to Phung Nguyen and his daughter, Ngoc at Phung motorcycles, Hanoi for renting me a great bike and to the Khan family of Dai Pham village (near Yen Bai, north of Hanoi) who, after fixing the regulator on the XR during the first few days of my trip, also put a roof over my head and fed me. Something that when you're far away from home, feeling dejected at the side of a lonely road in the middle of no-where and can't speak the 'local tongue', is heart-warming