South by Sleeper Train

The past 10 days were characterised by a marked change in travelling style, no longer solo but together with my friend Mason on a whirlwind tour of Vietnam before he begins his uni course.

Street Life 

Having stayed, on and off in Hanoi for quite some time I had come to know the city well, making me the perfect tour guide through a city I had come to love (depite the cold). Visiting Uncle Ho, the bizzare conceptual museum dedicated to him ("this represents the cave Ho Chi Mihn comanded from, seen in the form of a human brain"), the Temple of Literature, Hao Long Prison, the Lake, splurging on fine hot chocolates in a french cafe overlooking the lake, we did it all. I would also like to mention the hostel we stayed in, The "May De Ville Backpackers" for $6 a night the place looked like a high end hotel just with dorm beds, all white walls and marble floors, not to mention the breakfast. The buffet breakfast  alone could have cost $6 and resulted in some gluttony on my part.

The Sleeper Train

Alas onwards we had to move southwards, aboard a sleeper train headed for Hue on the central coast of Vietnam. Mason was thrilled at the novelty of sleeping aboard a train, despite the cramped conditions made worse by his tall stature. We were on the tops of two tripple bunks with four locals ocupying the beds below us. At the outset this seemed fine, we chatted, they chatted, untill one by one we fell quiet, well, except for one man, who kept talking, and talking...and talking to himself all night long. Once an hour he would rise and walk down the carriage, shouting, followed by his poor wife who trailed after him. I did not sleep at all that night, Mason did, thanks to the lingering jet lag. In the morning the man attempted to touch my face with a finger covered in blood; I was glad to disembark at Hue that morning and be off that train.

Hue was wet and rainy, but that did not stop our exploration of the aincent citadel, Vietnam's equivalent of the forbidden city. We met a man called Doung (im spelling that phonetically) who had family in Marrickville, but the real highlght of Hue for me was meeting the lovely woman who ran the hotel we stayed at. She was so warm, genuine and generous, giving us free extras for breakfast (telling us we must eat more for she has boys of her own), and even a parting gift of a bracelet. I enjoyed talking to her about Vietnam and her life and work as we waited for our bus to Hoi An.

Mason is attacked 

Hoi Ann is a beautiful riverside town of preserved historic architecture with a relaxed atmosphere. It was a joy to wander its lantern lit steets at night and take in the local sights. After weeks of cloud the sun finally emerged in Hoi An, giving the perfect conditions for some photography of the scenic town. While I took photos of Vietnam, the Vietnamese took photos of us, or at least of Mason, who was hilariously grabbed by vietnamese girls eagre to have their photo taken with him (ok, this only happened twice, but it was very funny on both occasions)  Hoi An was also a perfect base to visit the ancient ruins of My Son, Angkor-esque temples of the Cham civilisation, albeit on a smaller scale.

Before long however we were in a Taxi to nearby Da Nang, to catch a train south to hot, sweaty Sai Gon.