On the morning of April 30th, 1975 the tanks of North Vietnamese Army bulldozed through the front gate of the South Vietnam Presidential Palace, ending the almost 20 years of Vietnam civil war. With the fall of Saigon to the northern army, Vietnam was finally reunified. Following the victory, the city was renamed in honour of the North Vietnam de facto leader, Uncle Ho and the palace is now known as the Reunification Palace. We felt that it was unjust to visit Saigon (bear me, I’ve certain inclination towards the old name) without visiting this  eventful place, which is the birthmark of the modern city itself. So there we were, on the last day of our trip to Saigon.

Time seems to stop on the day itself, with everything very much left exactly 35 years ago. Built on the foundation of the demolished Norodom Palace – the French Headquaters, the whole complex exhibits the typical architectural design of its era.

 By the way, entrance fee is VND15,000 and the palace, now museum closes its door during midday.

The Cabinet Hall. The 4-storey complex comprises of lavishly decorated state rooms to cater for the President’s various functions and official resident. From the majestic Presidential Office and the plush Chinese-decorated reception chamber, to the luxurios chandeliers and comfy meeting rooms; the palace is at its full grandeur and ready for the Chief needs. Not to mention the gambling room, for the President to unwind after a day crashing his brain deciding the fate of the nation.

The Banquet chamber in the Independance Hall.

The whole building screams of the late 1960′s and early 1970′s decor and technology, such as these vintage rotary dial-up telephones.

We walked from one room to another admiring the old-school furnishing, and finally arrived at the second floor. The balcony is facing the front gate and yields the view of the green lawn, where the tanks of the Northern Army crashed through that fateful day. Now everything is calm and quiet. I saw a man taking photo of the palace, and I him. Heehe.

But outside the gate, life moves at a much greater speed. It was like viewing the world from a parallel dimension of those Twillight Zone tv series.

 The indoor theater.

A copy of the U.S. Army Bell Huey which used to fly the President on his offical tour around the country resting on the helipad at the roof-top,  as seen from the ballroom at forth floor. It also witnessed the bombing by the mole inside the South Vietnamese Air Force, which course turned out futile.

From the rooftop we took the stairs which led us to the underground fortified bunker, via the gloomy corridors.

One metre below the surface is the War Room, the subterranean nerve center where war commands and strategic planning took place. Built of 60 inches thick of steel and concrete, the bunker could withstand massive bombings and outside attacks. Just ignore the wannabe Chief in command.

Next to it is the communication room, where the 60′s state-of-the-art military radios and bulky telecommunication boxes could be found.

Equipments by General Electrics. Getting  the full backup from the Uncle Sam, the technology down here was very much US.

The indoor shooting range.

Leaving the bunker we were back at the photo room at ground floor, with collections depicting the palace historical events and war casualities.

 The view of the complex from the back as we exit the compound.

It was already half past twelve when we left the palace and since most museums in Saigon close at noon, we decided to hang out by one of the sidewalk coffee stalls and kept this man company.

It is a few minutes walk to the War Remnants Museum from the Reunification Palace, where we arrived just in time for the afternoon visitation.

Boeing CH47 Chinook Helicopter, is one of the air craft on display.

Tanks, fighter jets and artilleries used during the Vietnam War littered the compound of the museum, where we have our pre-packed lunch at one of the bench there.

The cross section of a rocket pod, which reminds me the onion cells I saw in Biology class many years ago.

At the far left of the complex  is a mock setup of  the detention center in Con Dao island that housed the North Vietnam P.O.W, and its ill-famed “tiger cages” – a tiny, barbed wired cage used to held up to 6 prisoners at a time, which most of the time had to lie on their backs.

Entering the museum was like entering an art gallery, as the inside is filled with vast display of  war images, although they are not your typical kind of photos.

My favourite is the Requiem Hall, where exhibits are photos taken by the journalists that perished during the combat. To me they successfully captured the essance of war – some makes you laugh, others are inspiring but most of them are depressing.

Among the photos that caught my attention. I always believe that a good photo is not all about technical perfection and over superb post-processing techniques but rather a soulful and capable of stirring someone’s emotion. Most of the photos here were captured using a point-and-shoot, despite the fact that the brand today costs more than the standard prosumer DSLR. Yup, it’s one of my wishlist although I’m not sure when it will materialize. There’s no harm in dreaming, right?

One of the photo taken during the infamous My Lai massacre. The expression of the man – begging for mercy, while his life lies at the tip of the rifle. I found it powerful.

Gallery with photos of the chemical defoliant and agent orange after-effect, which victims were mostly children. I didn’t spend much time in there. Couldn’t.

It was raining outside by the time we returned to the lower ground, so we took the time lingering around the hall which exhibit the 1960′s to 1970′s press and propaganda denouncing the  U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War.

From the War Remnant Museum we continued our stroll around the city, and arrived at the reddish-brown building of Saigon Notre-Dame, a relic of the French Colonization of Vietnam.

The front facade of the Saigon Notre-Dame Basillica.

 Next to it is the city post office, another edifice constructed circa French colonization.

Intricate decorations that adorns the entrance significant with the European styles, in contrast with the romanized Vietnamese name of the building. East meet west.

 The interior of the post office, with huge arch-ceiling and Uncle Ho giant portrait at the far end.

The visit to the post office ended our short trip to Saigon, as we rushed our way to the airport for the flight back to KL. The night before I managed to drop by the night market next to Ben Thanh for a quick shopping, and unsurprisingly most of the patrons were Malaysians. Feels like strolling the night market at Tunku Abdul Rahman street in KL!

Ben Thanh Market at night, bathed in light.

]]> http://www.travel.simplyniza.com/2012/09/hcmc-reunification-palace/feed/ 2 http://www.travel.simplyniza.com/2012/09/from-cuchi-to-cai-be/ http://www.travel.simplyniza.com/2012/09/from-cuchi-to-cai-be/#comments Sun, 09 Sep 2012 09:54:21 +0000 Niza Zainal http://www.travel.nizazainal.com/?p=4313 Booking the trip to the Cu Chi Tunnel was the very first thing we did when we reached Saigon. Arriving early in the morning by bus from Mui Ne, we were dropped at the Pham Ngu Lao street and walked straight to the agent in Bui Vien. The half day tour costs us USD5 (per pax) and started in a hour, so we quickly rushed for lodging to drop our bags, refresh ourselves and all. I haven’t booked any, but Pham Ngu Lao is well known as the backpacker haven that it is not difficult finding one. We managed to find a decent place to stay a stone throw away, at just USD12. With ensuite bathroom, hot shower, aircond and 30″ flat screen tv, it was a great deal. The owner, a woman in mid 40 was kind enough to let us in early, enabling us to have a quick shower and changed to fresh clothing. Otherwise Cu Chi (and the rest of the tour participants) have to endure our smells for the day. Breakfast was just some canned coffee and tuna sandwich we bought from the nearby 24-hour convenience store.

Along the way, the bus made a stop at a craft factory, where worksmen were victims of the infamous Vietnam war. Although most of them had been made handicapped thanks to the U.S. agent orange, they are really skillful people. The lacquerware, plaques, vases and paintings made of egg shells are simply intricate and beautiful, and the process is more than tedious. I always believe that when a capability is lost, one will be a master of another.

The bus pulled in the compound of Cu Chi Tunnel complex an hour later, and after paying the entrance fee of VND75,000 each (exclusive of the tour) we were taken to the semi-grounded hut for the 20-minute video presentation of the Vietnam War and some lecture about the tunnel. Standing at the hut entrance was our cute guide, Han.

Han explained the tunnel route, an immense underground network and Vietcong hiding place during the 1961 – 1971 Vietnam War. Dugged with simple tools and bare hands, the tunnel spans about 200km underground Saigon up to the border of Cambodia, where about 16,000 soldiers and family members found refuge from the U.S Army and South Vietnamese government. I can’t imagine life inside a dark, damp, cramped and stuffy tunnel, much less get pregnant and give birth in there!

Vietcong was notorious for winning the war against the fully-equipped U.S. Army with their cheap guerilla warfare and ingenious design of fatal entrapments, such as this one. Sharp and poisonous bamboo spikes awaiting underneath concealed trapdoor, covered with grass and leaves, makes it one hell of a hole of doom for those unwatchful U.S. soldiers. Once fallen, goodbye torso; goodbye life!

Sometimes it was not spikes that awaited the U.S. soldiers, it was the Vietcong soldiers themselves. One simply hide in a tiny hole (about the size of A4 paper) for hours, waiting for his chance to ambush.

DH with the soldiers from the National Liberation Front (NLF).

Another remodel of Vietcong traps aim to brutally injured different parts of the body.

Living in densed jungle for years and shunned from the outside world meaning one has to be self-sufficient, which was norm to the Vietcong. They grew their own food and made their own cloths. Most of them were made from recycle materials such as the sandals. Made from scrap tires, the sandals were thick and though enough to long-survive the rugged and challenging environment they were living in.

The highlight of the tour is off course experiencing the tiny tunnel yours trully. Although presently it has been made bigger to accomodate tourists, crawling and ducking are still required throughout the passageways. Conceiving the fact that it was dark, hot and stuffy inside, not to mention duck-tailing behind a crowd of tourists in a claustrophobic tunnel at turtle-speed, we decided against it. Enough sweat for the day.

Instead, DH decided to try his wit at the shooting, which experience is much cheaper than the one he tried in Krabi last year. This time it was the U.S. Rifle M1 Garand, spelled as “Garang” by the Viets, which coincidently means fierce in Malay.

With the rifle in hand, we followed the attendant to the shooting range. The non-stop, loud and frenetic sounds of shooting and cocking of bullets to the burnt smells of used ammo - it was like real battle ground; and my very own baptism of fire. The impression? It scared the hell out of me. I’m thankful for being born in a war-free country, and very much hope and pray that the freedom and peace we have now will last forever.

At the end of the tour we were served with the Vietcong staple food - boiled tapioca eaten with ground peanuts and some pandan tea. Not that it is something foreign to us, Asians.

Next day we chose to join the day-trippers to the Mekong River, a 3-hour journey from Ho Chi Minh City. Above is our guide, briefing the day itinerary.

We chose the longer route to Cai Be at USD12 per person (with lunch included), instead of doing the very much beaten My Tho and Ben Tre. Cai Be is well known for its wholesale floating market, and the passage  to the city of Vinh Long, a province of the Mekong Delta. Here we were departing from the jetty in one of the long boat, 3 hours later.

Long boats docking at the  jetty, in between lush colonies of water hyacinth.

Arriving at 11am, the floating market  which started as early as five in the morning was very much over, but we still enjoy the sight of the slow-pace life that exists on and along the river.

We bypassed the traders in their colorful barges laden with fruits and vegetables plying through the brown water. Samples were hung on the tip of the long pole attach at the front, visible to the potential buyers. Some of the boats are even home to these people; where at a time I saw one on top of which a kid waving at us from his hammock.

Most of the boats have “eyes” painted at the bow, as the locals believe that boats needed them to steer the crew to safe during bad weather and to avoid collision with other boats.

 Another tourist boat passing by.

We cruised along the delta for quite some time, and arrived at the much narrow waterway with houses at each sides.

Some shots of the life at the Mekong.

 The first stop was the bee farm, where we enjoyed honey tea and sampling some local tidbits.

The warm honey tea was refreshing after a long day sitting in the bus and boat, and the tidbits were nice too. Especially the dried honey ginger.

From the bee farm we set on foot to the nearby rice paper home industry, and it was a nice village walk on the small shady path tucked along the river and houses. Saw this old lady talking with a friend in front of her grocery shop, and was happy when she said yes to have her photo taken.

A lady preparing the rice-paper at her house in Cai Be. Rice paper is one of the main ingredients of the ever popular Vietnamese spring rolls, as the one we tried during our trip to Mui Ne. The process and recipe is similar to the making of our own laksam although Vietnam’s version is much thinner.

Unlike the ready-to-eat laksam,  the steamed Vietnamese rice-paper needs to be sun dried for a day usually on a mesh of bamboo weaven layer.

Rice papers that were left to dry, then packed for sale. These rice papers will turn into a crisp and translucent sheets once dried, which can be kept for several months. They just need a sprinkle of hot water to soften before they could be used as wrappings for the spring rolls.

From the rice-paper making we walked to another house right into the kitchen, to witness the making of puffed rice and coconut candy.

A man whisking the rice kernels, heated in a large wok together with some sands, until it pops like popcorns. The mixture is then poured into a sieve to filter out the sand, and voila! Now you have local munchy and cereal.

From the puffed rice and candy making we returned to our boat and cruised for another hour towards Vinh Long. It was already afternoon; having only skimpy sandwiches for breakfast made my stomach growled with hunger. It was a relief when our guide told us that we were actually heading for lunch. Knowing that we are muslims, our guide was accomodative enough to let us pick in between having some fruits or vegetarian meal. I immediately chose rice, as the last time I ate proper meal was during yesterday’s lunch.

Lunch over (sorry no picture, we were so hungry that taking photos totally slipped our mind) we were left with options either to cycle around the village or to laze in a hammock at the back of the restaurant. Guess what, we did both!

For the curious, vegetarian lunch was basically rice with some soup, vege and fried eggs, but we only took the rice, vege and eat it with our MRE. A fellow Malaysian tripmate was kind enough to share his home-made sambal with us. By the way, I did the quick spot check at the kitchen beforehand and found nothing suspicious though.

 A kid at the village in Vinh Long.

It was sweltering that after a few cycles to the bridge we decided to turn back. Others have yet to return, so DH filled the gap playing a game of pool with our guide while I relaxing in the hammock. We took the boat back to the jetty at 4.00pm to our waiting bus, with the last stop at a local market. I bought a bag full of juicy lychee for just VND20,000, which we savoured along the way. A sweet ending to a tiring but memorable day.

From the Fairy Stream we set out northwards, cruising along the beautiful Mui Ne coast. Dark clouds that wrapped the whole village had totally disappeared, leaving a bright sunny sky behind. It was a beautiful sight; the sea and sky were in rich deep blue, and the whitish bubbles of waves lapping the shore gently, murmuring of what sounds like music to our ears. From a distance we could see a cape pointed out to the sea,  where I imagined must be a great lookout point.

Ain’t it beautiful?

No one was in sight, and we enjoyed our moment of solitude at this very heaven on earth. Well, if you discounted the cows that were trimming the grass at the side of the road.

From the beautiful beach the driver continued driving further inland, and after a right turn at one of the junction we found ourselves in a middle of a red, barren land. Gone all the comfy and breezy ride, welcome untarred road!

It has been an hour and I was curious to how much further we need to go, but I kept the question to myself as the driver seemed to be focus with the driving . Besides, both of us were busy covering our head from banging the jeep’s metal roof, as the jeep swerved around potholes and some cow-pulling carts. Bumping and shaking all the way, the question somehow stucked at my throat, and the constant ”uh, oh.. ouch… ” were the only words I managed to muster.

The carts made a nice scene actually; seing them along the red, dry land one would easily forget that it is indeed in Vietnam.

Man and his cattles, Mui Ne.

Suddenly my eyes caught sight of a fantastic view of white and blue. After years of admiring her photos and dreaming of meeting her, there she was, lying in front of our naked eyes. What else if not the white sand dune herself. Finally!

Our jeep stopped by the blue lake full with lotus, with the dune as it backdrops it was like an oasis. Beautiful indeed.

 Our jeep.

I was happy to see such huge rolling hills of sand at first, but got a bit distracted as I realized how much effort would it take to climb those hills. There are other alternative of course, if you don’t mind spending, but I felt the ATV would not be the best option to experience the dune, naturally. (Rather the USD30 per hour is way too much for us!).

As they say, the best things in life are always free; hence without wasting time we took off or slippers and started walking. The sand was soft and warm, and it felt great!

Marks of ATV tracks criss-crossing the vast land, and I was struggling to get a clean photo without those marks and footprints. Needless to say about those camera unfriendly wind kept on blowing fine sands into the lens that I had to wrapped her with plastics and all. I guess early morning would be the best time to visit as it will be less people and over the night the wind will remove all those tracks again. But that did not deter our spirit. We were kids once more, spending time at the dune taking photos in various poses and angles, jumping here and there.

We saw the sand ridge over the lake, and decided to head there. There were blobs all over the sand, thanks to the morning downpour.

 We walked along the steep ridge towards the end of it, with the sand on one side and the lake on the others.

Somewhere in the middle I had to stop and let DH continue with the walking, as I was having a sudden rush of vertigo. The wind was blowing hard, and  it was difficult not to lose balance. The image of me rolling straight into the lake down below kept popping in mind.

 But that did not stop me from enjoying the splendid view. If only those marks  and patches were not there.

 Sand, sand and more sand. As far as the eyes could see.

 Another view of the dune as we walked back to the jeep.

We drove back towards Mui Ne, and made a stop at the red dune. Unlike her sister, it was crowded, perhaps cause it is nearer and easily accessible from the road.  Everywhere we could see family on outings, couples on a date, peddlers with their shoulder poles, flock of tourists unloading from the colorful tour buses, persuasive local kids with a scrap of plastic offering the slide down the dune, travellers who seemed at lost (that’s us!), yadda, yadda, yadda.  Even the sands are not as fine as those at white dune, and I have to agree that white dune is in fact the best between the two.

Sliding down the dune must be the “in” thing here, and age is not a factor. Suddenly everyone was a master at sand sliding, and started showing off their styles.

It was fun to see them in action too, like these kids - their faces were glowing from all the excitements. The positive vibes were so contagious that I was laughing and giggling all the same.

 Lady in conical hat waiting for customer.

We enjoyed the sunset at the red dune, leaving only when it was almost dark. The trip back to the guesthouse was quiet, and everyone was engulfed with their own thoughts. Our driver, well he was not a man of many words. We will be leaving Mui Ne tonight, and saying goodbye was elusive that it made me speechless.

I’m already missing this place.

Continuation from HERE.

Half day tour around Mui Ne was part of the package we took when we purchased the bus ticket from the agent in Saigon, and there he was, the driver, waiting at the lobby 2pm pronto. We have considered doing the self tour by bike initially, which definitely much cheaper than the USD10 per pax for the jeep ride, but had our minds changed due to time constraint. Furthermore there’s not much info about Mui Ne in the net and the map we had wasn’t reliable at all. I don’t want to risk missed visiting those places I intent by wasting time getting lost. Not that is not possible given more time. Well that’s the irony of being a hasty traveller, you don’t have the luxury of time and fast track options are usually slightly expensive than DIY. On the other hand, we try to cover as much possible in the short time span, in a practical way rather than just being there and done that. 

Unlike the morning, afternoon saw a clear, blue sky and we hoped that it will remain for the rest of the day. Our first destination was the Fairy Stream, which is one of the highlights of Mui Ne. Actually we tried to look for it during our short excursion earlier, but unable to locate it. Eventually it is very near to our guesthouse, which we had bypassed unknowingly quite a few times.

We were deposited at the side of the road, and our driver pointed the secluded path that tucked in between houses and mini markets. Nothing indicates the place save for a makeshift signboard made of zinc. You won’t see it unless you are really looking for it.  “Forty minutes”, said our driver and we sort of mumbled “uh.. oh..okay..”. We followed the direction faithfully, curious to where it will lead us. 

Some hundred meters away we finally arrived at a murky creek, and no one was in sight. Being the most sensible thing to do, we folded our pants and took off our slippers, and started trudging aimlessly in the water. The water was cold and refreshing, only knee deep; and it was not dirty but just brown from all the sands.

We walked for a few minutes and started to question ourselves whether we were in the right direction, and was relief to see a few people in front of us. Must be the right path.

We came to a sandy hill and decided to trek up. Going upward the 80 degree inclination over soft and wet sand was easy said than done. Panting, with streams of sweat rolling down my cheeks I finally made it to the top.

Nevertheless the splendid view from top was worth all the efforts and gave us wider perspective of the area. We saw for the first time the white sandy formation that line up the creek in contrast of the reddish hillside that makes up the Fairy Stream. Down we go! 

It is green and lush at one side, while the red and white sands dominate the other makes the place unique no less. The locals call it their “little canyon” but this is ultimately no match for the one in Arizona. At first glimpse there’s nothing much and seeing red soils is typical back home but when you come to think of it, it is actually amazing as the confluence of colors of the sands - from white to orange to gold to deep red to black won’t simply mix.

The colors of the sand that makes Mui Ne.

We were also greeted by this colorful centipede, which tones very much camourflage with the surrounding.

Like kids we loafed around playing with the muds and checking out the white pinnacles. There’s a small waterfall further up, and from that juncture we walked back to our jeep. Walking downstream was much faster, and along the way we bypassed some ostrich farm and cauldrons of fermented fish. A few foreigners stopped by for the ostrich riding experience, for just USD2. We on the other hand, moved along and saw our driver, waiting for us at one of the stall, sipping his coffee.

Unfortunately we didn’t catch sight of any fairies. 

Mũi Né is a coastal fishing village in the Binh Thuan Province of southeastern Vietnam, about 200km from Ho Chi Minh City. Facing the rough South China Sea, the area is known as one of the kitesurfing/windsurfing destination by the avid enthusiasts. Life at Mui Ne is very much preserved at its best, although tourism is booming. At a first glance, it looks nothing more than a typical Vietnam fishing village, and the question would be “Why Mui Ne?”.  Guess the city never suits me well and there’s something about Mui Ne that lured me there, and I’m glad I made the trip.

Despite the tiring day before, we woke up quite early and was eager to explore the surrounding. I immediately fell in love with Mui Ne at my very first sight of it. My mood wasn’t a bit disturbed by the gloomy day, and I found Mui Ne very peaceful and refreshing. Being monsoon, it was an off season in Mui Ne and the chances of bumping into another tourist was very unlikely. The street was wet from the night’s downpour and it was laidback and quiet except for a few passers by. The birds were chirping happily greeting the morning while the coconut trees that littering the shoreline were waving gently as if welcoming us to their humble abode.  

We walked to a cafe nearby our guesthouse for breakfast, and having the nice brewed Vietnamese milk coffee was inevitable. To me Vietnamese coffee never taste the same in other part of the world except in Vietnam themselves. No matter if you are using the original coffee beans to make them, you can’t beat the taste when it’s made in their home country. It’s true that I haven’t been to every corner of the world so there might be others which taste better, but I have to admit that Vietnam’s coffee is my favourite so far and it would be on the top of the chart for quite some time. Perhaps it is a matter of preference but once you taste it, you could never get rid of it. They are like morphine to me.

The fresh vegetable spring rolls was on the menu that morning, but unlike the Vietnamese coffee I must say that I like the one that I ate in KL better. Anyway we were grateful for the meal knowing that the other alternative was to spend the day in hunger.

We set off after breakfast with a bike we rented from the cafe and took a ride down the strip. Armed with a brief map we printed from the net and our little knowledge of the area we headed to the Mui Ne town. Along the way we were stopped by the splendid view of Mui Ne bay. Dark clouds started to emerge at the skyline, and it looked like it was going to rain again. I prayed in silence, hoping that the black clouds would pass. I was a bit worried that it might affect our plan.

Locals strolling the rough seashore. The wind started to blow hard and almost blew off my hat, pulling and crashing the waves at the shore.  The air started to get misty due to the drizzles and storm was fast approaching. 

 A local in traditional basket boat, Thung Chai which is similar to the Welsh coracle trying to break the rough waves.

God must be listening to my prayer after all, that within a few minutes the bad weather subdued and the sea was calm again.

 The spectators. They  were smiling with amusement when I pointed the camera at them. What a silly tourist we must be!

We made a move to the Mui Ne town proper, in search for the morning market. It was just a small town sitting along the strech of road, with motorbikes plying to and fro.

I’m always fascinated with market scene as the place not only reveal the lifestyle of the locals, but provided the ground for socializing with them. By the way “Cho” means market in Vietnamese.

 A lady with her heaps of sugar apples.

 Another gooseberries discovery, but I wasn’t surprised to see the durians.

We drifted to the wet market section, and saw the woman with her prizes, all fresh from the sea. Some of the catches were unfamiliar to the eyes.

 Local ladies in conical hat were busy doing their groceries.

I’ve never seen anything looks so fresh and healthy. Just see how big and crisp the spinach was. The leaves were as big as my palm.

A bunch of ladies having breakfast at one of the makeshift  stall at the market. The smell made my mouth water, but alas it wasn’t halal.

 What is market without the livestock?

And the owner. He was laughing merrily when we asked to photograph his ducks, and gave us this pose when we took the photo of him. Sporting guy.

We spent some time at the market, watching the world goes by. It was a busy day indeed – anywhere we could see ladies in conical hats  engrossed with the selling and haggling,  locals having breakfast at the makeshift stalls and catching up with the village gossips, the quacking and clucking, the riot of colors of the farm produce, ugly looking fish and weird clamps, miniature fruits : baby corn, baby melon, baby gourd, baby cucumber et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

The bike was rented for half a day, and after leaving the market we still had some time to spare. The gas was full too, so we ended up lollygagging around town and the nearby housing area, venturing into unknown roads and streets trying to get lost. But Mui Ne wasn’t so big to begin with, we found that getting lost was rather a far-fetched idea.

We simply let the bike took us wherever it wants, and at a turn of what looks like a deserted path we arrived at a fishing harbour. The foul smells of salts and rotten fish instantaneously hit our nose, as our eyes catched sight at the colorful boats and coracles that moored at the shore while aplenty of them still lie beyond the coastline.

Notwithstanding the malicious odor, the view was superb and photography worthy. Too bad the dark clouds were still hanging there, and getting darker and heavier by the minutes. That means we need to wrap up the whole jaunt quickly!

 And so did these people.

While their husbands at sea, the women were diligently cleaning and sorting the catch as soon as they arrive to the shore. Some of the fish will be sold at the market while the others will be dried.

The girl looked at me with puzzling eyes, she must be wondering why I was so keen with taking photos of her mother cleaning the fish. 

A man making a trip between the boats and the shore, transporting the day catches. Maneuvering the bamboo weaven coracle looks tiring, the distance it makes reciprocal with the effort required unlike the typical rowing. It is flimsy – the boat, instead of moving forward it mostly wobbled in the water.

One of the basket coracle laden with fishing stuff finally made it at the shore, and pulling her against the rolling waves was ardous too. It kept on moving in circles! At the back I saw a man carrying basket at his shoulders wading through the water. That was some act!

After several pulling and pushing she was finally safe ashore, the coracle. While dozens upon dozens of fishing boats anchored at sea albeit the accumulated dark clouds.

By the look of the sky and the sound of thunder it was going to be a shower, and the stinking fishy smell was killing me. We decided to call it a day, and it was a good thing as it started to rain cats and dogs soon after we left. Arrived just in time at the guesthouse, we should be soaking wet if not for the poncho I kept handy in my bag. I was quite happy with the discoveries we made, although it would be great if the weather was on our side. But I guess god has other plan for us, and very much looking forward for what He has in store. Until then, I think I would like to sit quietly at the verandah,  enjoying the day in my life at Mui Ne in between the rain drops. And a glass of iced milk coffee, of course.

One fine afternoon of mid June found us wandering outside the Tan Son Nhat airport looking for the shuttle bus to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City, that is) and there it was, parked right at pillar no. 13.

The white and blue shuttle no. 152 to city center. The VND4000 fare is good enough for poor traveller like us, compared to the USD10 by cab.

The bus pulled off immediately as we hopped on, with a few passengers including us, which happen to be the only foreigner. Soon enough we were cruising the bustling streets of Vietnam’s largest city, and within minutes arrived at the iconic landmark of Ben Thanh Market.

We were dropped off at the bus terminal in front the market, and while figuring which way to go, we had our eyes fixed on the tallest building in the area. Did we saw Menara TM just now?

From Ben Thanh we walked to the Pham Ngu Lao street, looking for the tour agent  for the bus ride to Mui Ne. Pham Ngu Lao is famous for its budget hotels  and the many tour agencies, and is often considered at par with Khao San Road in Bangkok. 

A lone traffic policeman manned the crazy hordes of motorcycles. Crossing street in Vietnam is totally unhealthy; it’s bad for the heart!

We managed to locate our tour agent at Bui Vien street, and sorted out the booking. The bus to Mui Ne only departs at 8.00pm thus we were left with a few hours to idle. Since we will be arriving very late at night, food was a concern so we decided to fill up our stomach with pho and some takeaways from a halal stall near Ben Thanh. Guess what, halal food here cost a bomb, and that was just a stall. The pho tasted so-so, and the rice for takeaways was cold and hard. The eatery was crowded with fellow Malaysians on their short shopping trip,  of which we made friends with some of them, while a few others – well it’s better left unsaid.

Street scene at night in Saigon. Back at the tour agency after the quick dinner we were stuck with another hour to spare, so we killed the time wandering around and taking photos of the area.

Around 7.30pm we were called to the bus, and I being a tad excited as it was my first time riding a sleeper. The seat was a bit cramped, and I pity DH and those Americans who had to crouch within the tiny space. However this was much better rather than to sit up straight for 6 hours on normal buses. With pillow, blanket and all, it was a comfy ride; and I was pretty much sound asleep throughout the journey (although it started as a pretext to ignore the lovey-dovey local couple whose romancing in the seat in front of us) and was only awaken when we reached Phan Thiet for toilet break and supper.

From Phan Thiet it was just a couple of minutes drive to Mui Ne, and before long we were dispatched at a desolate street in front of our guest house. We were sort of alone in a middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. Luckily the guest house keeper was aware of our coming, and after a few rings at the gate he opened the door, took us in and showed the room. It was basic, but enough for the night. The whole day was spent driving from our house to LCCT, boarding a plane to Saigon and taking the 6-hour bus to Mui Ne; it was hell exhausting that we jumped with joy at a sight of clean bed and hot shower. A quick bath and dinner follow suit; and then slipped onto the bed for a good night rest. Comes tomorrow a new day will dawn, and perhaps we will chance upon another adventure. 

The rain had stopped when we left the Dong Xuan market, so we continued our day jaunt around the Old Quarter. Strolling through the quaint old town was like a step back in time, where everything was very much kept to the old fashion way. Thin and tall buildings were squeezed along the narrow and shady streets, with little space for parking or driveway sort of explains why motorbikes are dominion. Street vendors selling trinkets and peddlers with shoulder poles, sidewalk food stalls with kiddie stools, locals gambling on the five-foot way, bicycles, tricycles and motorcycles whizzed past with frenetic beeping - you named it; Hanoi Old Quarter is actually a quitessence and manifestation of Vietnam’s true culture.

Typical scene at Hang Ngang street. Most all of the streets in Old Quarter are named after a “Hang” which I first thought must mean street or alley in Vietnamese, but later found out that it is actually means trade. The old town was arranged in an orderly way where a certain products or merchandise could be found specifically on a certain street, as indicated in the street names. Thus, Hang Ngang street translates as clothing street, silverware could be found on Hang Bac street, Hang Gay is famous for silks and the list continues so on.

  Tourists on cyclo tour. A cheap and quick way to explore the old town at VND60k per hour.

 A glance by the cyclo rider. 

A street vendor with shoulder poles selling vegetables spotted along the Hang Ngang street.

We came across a lady with great balancing act. America Next Top Model should be ashamed.

Intersections at Hang Giay street.

Hanoi 1946 War Memorial at a park near Quan Thanh street.

Two street peddlers taking shelter from the rain near Hang Dau street.

In contrast to two young ladies on bicycles stopping for red light in front of the roman-like architecture of Hang Dau Water Tower.

A train track cutting through the neighbourhood. Imagine seeing everyday trains passing through your back door or kitchen window, while doing laundry or cooking. To think on how they sleep was enough to make me insomnia for nights.

Being Hanoi’s vital transport, it was norm to see bikes being used as a beast of burden, transporting loads bound for local markets.

Another distinctive observation we made was on how jumbled up and messy the town wiring was. I wouldn’t be surprised if the electrician here is having a tough day figuring out which wire to fix in case of a black out!

Spotted the vintage 1936 Citroen Traction Avant somewhere near Hang Bac street. A posh car for the posh travellers.

From Hang Bac, we turned up at Lo Su street, with numerous mortuary shops. Several headstones were on display on the sidewalk – complete with names, photos and all, stacked in between urns and coffins. Craftsmen open tables at the very front, engraved the ordered stones totally ignoring bemused passers by (like us!). This guy caught my attention though, as he was seen so engrossed with texting while the photos of the deceased at the back were like silent spectators of his languid demeanour.

A shabby old house at Hang Tre street.

Straying in the maze of Old Quarter back alleys, we ended up at a fresh market on Cau Go street.

Market is always my favourite spot everytime I travel, as it offers an insight to locals everyday life and a real approach to the country’s sociocultural. Not to mention the many interesting photography subjects too.

Fresh, ripe and colorful veggies at the market. Spotted nothing unusual really, there this pomegranates, starfruits, mushrooms, calamansi, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, some green beens, baby corns, capsicum et cetera, et cetera.  Now I sound like my mom, and no, this is not cooking blog.

A cute girl in pink waited patiently for her mother doing the shopping. I just love her composure.

While at the opposite juncture a lady in red buying some beef from one of the street vendor. The attires were a bit formal for such occasion, don’t you think?

 Fermented fish a la Hanoi, something like our own ikan pekasam.

A girl in conical hat hagling over some groceries. I found out the conical hat came a bit handy myself, especially during the intermittent rains.

Three generations waiting for customers. Drizzling afternoon, and patrons were shortcoming.

A lady arranging the chickens into a more attractive display. Creative folks. 

It’s already late afternoon and the lady here was doing the clean up. Watching from behind was the lot’s owner, I guess. She’s selling the seafood stuff, and that was very big  squids she had back there.

Previously this was what she was cleaning,  a hefty lot of squiggling and squirmishing tiny things in the white box. Yup, these were food. Vietnamese are very much into eating almost everything, from typical food up to dogs, frogs, insects and slimy worms. The hardship of their past life must have something to do with it, and they embraced it in the name of survival. That quite earns my respect, nonetheless.

Owh, not forgetting these venomous  concoctions spotted at the airport on our last day. Cobra, or other vile creatures are immersed in the rice wine for their essences, which is said to have medicinal values and the practice rooted back from mainland China. They even eat the flesh and drink the beating heart of the snake for immediate effect, and the benefits range from curing hair loss up to the boosting of sexual performance (poor animal!)

Right down the market we arrived at the familiar Hoan Kiem lake, and decided to visit the iconic Ngoc Son temple on the nearby island.

 Connecting the temple was a red pedestrian bridge, the synonymous Hanoi image.

The bridge, popularly known as The Huc is painted in bright red against the deep green surroundings makes it hard to be missed. After a long, winding walk in the maze of Old Quarter, the panaroma was indeed soothing to the eyes.

Two late worshippers inside the Ngoc Son temple. Literally means “The Jade Mountain Temple”, it was built in dedication to the a particular local hero who defeated the Mongol invasion sent by Kublai Khan in the 14th century.

 The frontal view of the temple. The time was 6.00pm and it was about to be closed for the day.

The view of Hanoi at dusk, from the Ngoc Son temple.

We were among the last to leave the temple, and a walk back to our guest house in Hang Hanh street we bypassed these alfresco eatery. Note the small stools, ingenious way  by the street vendors where portability and compact storage are an important factors. Not so friendly though for those who is big in the middle (it was very hard to find big, fat locals by the way).

 Night in Hanoi was never dull, especially at the Hoan Kiem lake.

Street vendor minding a small shop selling ciggies and snacks next to our guest house.

A glimpse of a typical house interior in Hanoi.

Despite the gorgeous seafoods we found at the market, we ended our day in Hanoi back at the guest house with some ’home made’ dish.

The End.

28 Oct 2011.

I woke up to the roaring thunder outside my room at exactly 5.30am in the morning, despite the tiring journey to Ha Long Bay the day before. Sunrise is early in Hanoi; of which we quickly performed our morning prayer. Since we only left with one day for a walk around town, rain was bad news to us. I was praying hard that it will stop, but looking on the dark clouds that wrapped up the whole city, I prepared myself for the worst. We kept our fingers crossed and waited, which seemed like forever. Nevertheless, the rain finally subsided  and we rushed for a cab to Ba Dinh Square.

The cabman dropped us at the back gate of the Ho Chi Minh Museum at Ong Ich Khiem Street, and on our way to the complex entrance I noticed a tree blossomed with pinkish flowers, which some of them had fallen to the ground due to the heavy shower. The light was right as the morning sun was diffused by the heavy clouds, thus I managed to get this high key photo of the dewy flower against the green grass.

My next attention was the fan leaves of the palm trees standing nearby. I like the way the pattern spreading out from the petiole.

It looked like it was going to rain again, so we hurriedly to the museum main entrance. Actually I wasn’t keen on visiting the museum at the first place, my intention was to have a quick visit to Uncle Ho Mausoleum and then continue with our excursion around the Old Quarter. But our cabman had misheard us and interchangeably mausoleum turned into museum. Since the tomb is just around the corner and it was about to rain, we guessed the museum would be a good idea for shelter.

An orange shrine next to the museum. It was closed for the day.

The Ho Chi Minh Museum. Entrance fee is VND10,000 per person, which roughly around RM1.50. Note the Soviet’s emblem on the visage of the complex. Many of Hanoi post-war developments by the communist party were subject to aid and support from the Soviet Union.

One of the corridor in the museum, where some photos and items related to Ho Chi Minh are being displayed.

The man himself in many expressions.

A man looking over the exhibits inside the museum.

DH admiring Uncle Ho colossal statue.

The museum is more of an art museum to me rather than historical. Besides one or two dedicated galleries about Uncle Ho, the rest are occupied by arc sculptures and what’s not. It somehow lack information on the life and deeds done by its namesake, which to me was quite an irony.

They even have Picasso’s art works!

Found nothing interesting we decided to leave; it was still raining outside thus we had to bought an umbrella and ponchos from the museum shop. While looking for exits, we saw a group of tourists and we tailed them, which lead us to the nearby One Pillar Pagoda. Erected by King Lý Thái Tông in 1049, the pagoda was meant as a symbol of gratitude over a birth of a son. 

The lotus in the pond. The pagoda was built to resemble the flower, similar to King Lý Thái Tông’s  dream of a Buddha handing over a son from inside the blossoming lotus.

As tourists swarming the small pagoda, suprisingly it had little effect on me. Instead I was more attracted to a secluded, small shrine  close by, which nobody was paying heed to.

 The fresh, and colorful roses at the shrine.

Another bouquet of roses. The season was already changing to autumn, but a tint of spring were still presence.

A lawn ornament of a tiger, covered with striking yellow chrysanthemums.

We spent some time at the One Pillar Pagoda compound, mainly taking pictures of the small shrine and a few other trivial objects, and writing a postcard (to ourselves) that we bought from the souvenir booth nearby (the actual reason of writing a postcard there and then was because we want to take shelter from the sudden downpour, and a post box happened to be next to it). 

From the pagoda we walked in the rain to a wide pavements running in front a monolith structure, with two men in white uniform standing guard at its door. It was the mausoleum; and being Friday, it was closed for maintenance.

 Another guy in uniform standing guard with rain jacket, umbrella and all.

A walk passed the mausoleum we arrived at a grand buildings of colonial tastes, the Presidential Palace.

Crossing the street in front the Presidential Palace we turned up at the Phan Dinh Phung street, where we stopped for coffee break. The rain was getting heavier, and I was a little concerned about my camera.

We ordered ca phe sua da, a vietnamese version of  iced coffee. The servings came together with thin jasmine tea, to kill the extra strong taste of the coffee I guess.

We enjoyed our coffee while waiting for the rain to stop, and spent the time observing the passers by. The cafe is so happen located in front of the North Gate of the Imperial Citadel of Thang Long, another UNESCO World Heritage Site.

 A lady counting money from the ciggy sales in front of our table.

A peep into the cafe back alley.

Another code by Dan Brown? Perhaps just a phone number for a certain service offered.

As soon as the rain stopped we continued walking again to the end of the road, and crossed over to Hang Giay street. A few minutes walk we arrived at the Dong Xuan Market, a wholesale trading center downtown Hanoi.

Daily activities in Dong Xuan. Most of the items are cheap compared to the street vendors, especially if you are buying in bulks. Haggle is a must. After a long walk in the cold rain, I really need to go to the ladies, and to my surprise the toilet here are of the ‘open’ concept. As I was juggling in between a dire need to take a leak and modesty, a lady suddenly came in, unzipped, squatted and did her business in front of me, as if I wasn’t there. After she’s done with her thing, she wiped it with some tissue, throw it in the basket and walked away. And I was left, flabbergasted.

I managed to settle my issue (I found out that the ‘open’ concept toilet is specifically for taking leak, while the one with doors and all are for more ‘serious’ business. So in my case I swapped the two. Okay, enough of shitty talking). Upon exiting the toilet I saw DH negotiating over some dried shrimps or Tom Kho, a favourite flavouring agent in most Asean dishes. The shrimps were quite sizeable and of good quality, and the price were not that cheap either. It costs us VND200k for half a kilo.

 Rows of dried stuffs.

Apart from the dried shrimps and dried mushrooms, I was lost.

Leaving the nonchalant dry food section of the market, we entered the souvenir section and were served with the colorful and neatly embroidered table cloth, purse, pouch, bags and everything else that would make any ladies go gugu gaga.

 Vietnamese Silks, in all hues.

>>Next: The Old Quarter

After visiting the grottoes and the lagoons, we were brought back to the village.

 Peddling towards the floating settlement.

A peek inside the house. With 29 inch flat screen tv, life here is quite convenient. I wonder where they get the electricity. To totally rely on power generators must be tedious. I was quite amazed with the water village at Ha Long actually, and it is quite different from other floating villages that I’d been.  Mostly the settlements are very near to the land, but this one was set up alone in the middle of the sea. Any connection with outside world is merely on those tourists junks, although the exposure is quite international. :)

The cheerful school kids, peeping the visitors through the window.

Yup, they even have school and grocery shop at the village!

Another settlement with an attached boat. Suddenly I felt like I was in the Waterworld movie set.

 Our blue raft.

Another posh looking junk, with triple decks. Definitely with sleep-on-board facility.

Half-full cup of tea (or is it half-empty?) spotted at the pontoon when we returned from our short tour around the grottoes.

Back on board, I saw these two guys doing the dishwashing on my way to the loo.

The crockery and some left overs.

Kitchen towels and what’s not.

In the main deck, the golden oriental logo printed on the vibrant red cushion caught my attention.

Soon we were on the move again, towards our next destination.

Sailing passed the Fighting Cocks formation, Ha Long iconic landmark.

And head to head with another junk. We won.

Our next stop was the Thien Cung Cave, or locally known as the “Cave of the Heavenly Palace“.

Inside the majestic cavern of Thien Cung Cave, nicely illuminated with colorful lights. It felt like stepping into a fantasy world. A total difference compared to my previous caving experience, where it always dark, damp and gloomy.

Vietnamese likes to throw moneys everywhere. If throwing coins in Trevi Fountain is to ensure your return to Rome, I’m not sure whether it means the same at the cave.

Overview of Ha Long Bay, upon exiting the cave.

The pedestrian bridge, connecting the cave exits and the pier.

The trip to Thien Cung cave was the last in our itinerary, and before long we were on our journey back to the mainland.

 Me, enjoying the sea breeze and the view at the front deck. 

End of Day 2.

27 Oct 2011.

I was undecided at first whether to go to Tam Coc or Ha Long, and after some careful consideration (despite the recent Feb 2011 tragedy) we opted the latter. So on the second day of our trip, we joined a few others to the Gulf of Tonkin.

Located 165km from Hanoi, the distance to Ha Long Bay is not that far. But due to the poor road condition and the fact that our driver was driving at a constant speed of 50km per hour, it took us three and half hours to reach the place.

But the long journey wasn’t  feel too bad as we were served with beautiful scenary of hanoi suburbs along the way, bypassing yellowish green paddy fields, with the cows munching the grass and farmers in the typical conical hats.

 Bicycles seem to be dominating the rurals.

We noticed that most houses in Hanoi are all awkwardly thin and tall, some were even free standing in the middle of paddy fields. I was told that land acquisition in Hanoi is quite expensive, thus explains the wierd architecture. Thank god that Hanoi is out of typhoon-hit area, otherwise I wonder how they withstand the blast.

Along the way we bypassed a group of school kids, just released from the morning session.

Somewhere in the middle of the journey the driver made a detour, for the usual ‘tourist stop’.

Most of the selling items are handmade, and painstakingly crafted.

Being a tourist trap, the price here costs a bomb. The same items could be bought halves of the price back at Hanoi (with some haggling, of course!).

Leaving the handycraft center, we finally reached the harbour around noon. The place was already flocked with tourists,

and countless anchored junks.

Our boat, the Minh Hang 19. A bit small compared to the others, for day tripping.

After getting the tickets and some formal registration (a new policy imposed by the government subsequent to the recent incident), we were ushered into the junk by our travel guide, and soon leaving the harbour.

DH inside the boat. The set-up was more of a floating restaurant. In the red bag was our pre-packed lunch, just in case.

Two locals were seen on the tip of the shoreline, I wonder what they were doing. Fishing, perhaps?

Minutes later we were already out in the open sea, with glimpse of karst isles ahead of us.

Ha Long Bay, finally. Literal translation means “The Descending Dragon”, the place is full of limestone karst formations jutting out from sea. The scenic seascape has been acknowledged as one of the World Heritage Site by UNESCO, and Nature’s New Seven Wonders of the World.  But the most publicity it gets is from 1997 James Bond movie, being one of the filming location.

 This view reminds me of one scene in LOTR.

We arrived at a small water village in the middle of the sea surrounded by the karst islands, where we stopped for lunch and a tour or kayaking around the grottoes.

A lady selling fruits on boat. Apart from fishing, tourism is also one of the villagers source of income. But I wonder whether she’s getting much out of it since it seemed nobody was buying. That explained the frown on the face. The fruits were not cheap either, as they were transported from the mainland.

You could also buy the fresh sea creatures, to be cooked for lunch. Since most of us were on tight budget, we had to skipped this part.

Back to our boat, we settled over our simple vegetarian meal, part of the package.

But previously we had a quick visit to the galley to check out the ingredients and the food preparation, just to ensure that they were not using non-halal stuffs, and confirmed later with our travel guide that the boat only caters for vegetarians.

Lunch over, we went up to the upper deck and enjoyed the spectacular view.

I spotted these kids paddling the woven-basket kind of raft, with the boat house on their back.

A boy and three girls. I wonder what’s the topic about.

But this one seemed to be doing his paddling alone. A brave guy, he is. Living on the water, the sea is just like a playground to him.

We went down again to the pontoons and were offered the rafting trip to explore the grottoes by the villagers at USD5 per pax. A bit expensive but we wouldn’t want to miss it out just because a few dollars (it won’t make us rich, anyway!)

The peddler took us underneath the arches, a formation highly subject to million years of erosion and natural phenomenon.

Hidden away was a secluded lagoon, totally invisible from the outside. Beautiful indeed.

An abandon raft inside the lagoon.

>> To be continued…