The Reunification Express to Saigon
Trip Start
Jun 30, 2010
1
29
58
Trip End
Jun 01, 2011
Where I stayed
Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
Friday, January 7, 2011
Our departure from Hanoi wasn’t exactly an illustrious one, but for the first time since leaving the UK we were waved ‘goodbye’ and it was really touching. It was also very funny; we couldn’t figure out what we’d done to deserve a wave-off from the Splendid Star Hotel’s bell-boy. Tony (I cannot believe that was his real name) had shown us to our carriage whilst carrying both back-packs, grinned at us through our window from the platform and waved us off as our train, The Reunification Express, rolled out of the station.
It was 8pm and we settled down to enjoy, or endure, it was yet to be ascertained, our two-day, two-night 1,726 km train journey to Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC). We drank 333 beer, checked out the cabin and carriage (a little dirty but comfortable), made our bunks and chatted with our young English cabin mates about travels, life back in the UK and the latest news from home. After purchasing a meal ticket from the carriage attendant we waited eagerly for the dinner trolley to appear. Unfortunately I’d misunderstood and our ticket was actually for breakfast, so we tucked into some of our bought snacks and settled down to sleep. This train was probably the most shaky we’d been on but sleep came surprisingly easily. Waking in the early hours I looked down at the floor to see a tiny mouse standing on its hind-feet and licking the condensation off my water bottle; certainly the cutest form of wildlife we’d seen on our various train journeys.
Our breakfast of rice, chicken and veggies was worth the wait, but our cabin mates looked a bit green about being woken by the strong meaty smells. For the whole of the next day we passed through a rural landscape of green rice paddies backed by high forested mountains, and colourful towns and cities and their lively station platforms. We sped across dusty roads and tracks, halting the traffic. The assemblage of buses, cars, ox-carts and cyclists was always really interesting and I tried numerous times to photograph the crossing scenes but my reflexes were never quick enough. Our favourite part of the journey was the long stretch of rugged coastline. The sea was grey with turquoise sun-lit patches and a good swell pounded the rocky coast. Sticking our heads out the window to watch the train curve around the bends we felt the South China Sea air on our faces. Many people, including our cabin-mates, disembarked at Hoi An, a popular coastal destination, but we had places to be and people to meet and pushed on for Saigon. We chatted with fellow travellers, laughed with the cheerful staff, dashed onto the platform when time permitted to buy food and drink, read, snoozed and gazed out the window as the miles disappeared behind us. It truly is a beautiful country and a beautiful rail journey.
New cabin mates, a Vietnamese couple, appeared that evening, around 11pm, and immediately bunked down without a word, without laying out the newly provided sheet or covering the well-dribbled upon silky pillow. Eugh! We slept well despite the day’s indolence and woke abruptly, flustered, at 4am just as the train pulled into HCMC station. Still half asleep we tumbled out onto the platform, hopeful that we’d not left anything behind, and found seats inside the station to get our heads together. What a rude hour to arrive in a new city!
Saigon
Xin Chào from Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City!
We’d bundled off Reunification Express at 4am and sat in the station waiting to come round. 5am, after a few strong coffees, the caffeine started to kick in. We gathered ourselves together and hopped into a taxi with a vague hope that we could check-in to our room at the Tan Hai Long Hotel nine hours early. Sadly it was not to be, but we were invited to make ourselves at home in the restaurant. We chatted excitedly about meeting up with Phil’s Dad, Mike, and wife, Eileen, who we’d be spending the next week exploring Saigon with, and we maximised on the free wifi, catching up on emails and updating our blog. All the time we spoke in whispers as uniformed staff were fast asleep on the dining chairs around us. At around 6.30am a big, fat rat darted across the room, around the skirting and behind a vending machine where, if the tortured squeals were anything to go by, it breathed its last. Woken by the noise the sleeping waiters stretched, straightened their shirts and started preparing the restaurant for breakfast. A group of pyjama-clad Japanese guests disappeared out the door at 7am for Tai Chi in the park over the road. An European couple checked out around 8am, and 2 minutes later we were given the key to what was their room and access to a gloriously hot shower. We returned to a busy restaurant, noisy with breakfasters. The next three hours flew by and before we knew it Mike and Eileen were at the check-in desk, looking surprisingly happy and fresh for a 24-journey from the UK.
Looking back we fitted in an impressive array of activities over the week. We explored the city centre (a much easier city for a pedestrian than Hanoi, but without the character of the old city) taking in the soviet-style Independence palace, the neo-Romanesque Notre Dame Cathedral, the beautiful central post office and national museum, alongside the ultra-modern shopping malls, designer and luxury goods stores and motor show-rooms. Consumerism rules in Communist Vietnam. We’d hoped to see a performance at the grand colonial Opera House, as per Hanoi, but sadly nothing was programmed for our stay. One afternoon we taxied across town to the Jade Emperor Pagoda to find out what a pagoda dedicated to the supreme Taoist god looked like. At the entrance two small jade lions stood guard. In the dappled courtyard were teeming ponds and we watched, with morbid fascination as the tropical fish picked at a bloated upturned turtle, and the comedy of the red and yellow striped terrapins clambering over each other to reach a sunny spot. The pagoda was painted a blood-red. Thick incense smoke curled up from a sand-filled urn outside the door. In the dark interior were ceiling-high statues of 'phantasmal divinities and grotesque heroes' (LP) and a steady flow of worshippers lit candles. Through heavy traffic we crossed the city to Thao Cam Vien, the botanical gardens and city zoo. We ambled around the formal grounds, passing the Temple of King Hung Vuong and the History Museum at the entrance, but none of us had much enthusiasm for the zoo, and even less so when we set eyes on the small elephant enclosure and the five very bored-looking elephants.
We also spent a few hours one morning in the deeply affecting War Remnants Museum. The story behind its uninspiring name is an interesting one. Operated by the Vietnamese government, the museum was opened in 1975 as the ‘The House for Displaying War Crimes of American Imperialism and the Puppet Government [of South Vietnam].’ Later it was known as the ‘Museum of American War Crimes‘, then as the ‘War Crimes Museum’ until as recently as 1993. Its current name follows liberalisation in Vietnam and the normalisation of relations with the United States (Wikipedia). Two exhibitions are particularly memorable. The first was the photographic exhibition by Philip Jones Griffiths documenting the debilitating physical and mental effects of Agent Orange (AO) on the Vietnamese, especially the newborn. It was accompanied by information on the effects of AO and other chemical defoliant sprays, the use of napalm and phosphorus bombs. Distressing, but educational. The other exhibition was ‘Requiem’ compiled by renowned war photographer Tim Page and housing the work of photographers who lost their lives during the conflict such as Larry Burrows and Robert Capa. The collection was stunning and poignant.
Continuing the war theme, we went on a day-trip to visit the Cu Chi Tunnels, the legendary network of tunnels that facilitated the Viet Cong's (VC) control of the area outside Saigon. Incredibly narrow (the one we crawled through with difficulty and rising claustrophobia had been made six times wider ‘for the beeger toureest’) and storeys deep, the tunnels housed kitchens, a hospital, living areas and ammunition stores, also trap-doors to deflect grenades and direct the enemy ‘tunnel-rats’ and sniffer-dogs into man-traps. The tunnels enabled the VC to literally appear suddenly above ground and disappear without trace. Frustrated by the continued VC resistance the US designated the area a 'free-strike zone' leading to Cu Chi becoming 'the most bombed, shelled, gassed, defoliated and generally devastated area in the history of warfare' (Mangold & Pennygate). The tunnels were eventually destroyed when the US deployed B-52’s to carpet bomb the entire area. By then though the tunnels had served their purpose; the US was already on its way out of the war (LP). As we were led through a woodland of spindly trees and bomb craters looking at the various exhibits along the pathway we couldn’t help but wonder what sort of levels of dioxin/agent orange were still present in the soil and water around us. We were shown an original US tank, an exhibit of shells, mannequins dressed in VC gear, an above-ground hospital and armoury. Most macabre of all though was the man-traps exhibit, heath-robinson in construction (sharpened bamboo, deck-chairs, swinging branches), but absolutely deadly. The paintings of GI’s falling and being impaled were gruesome.
This day-trip also included a visit to a factory where skilled workers with physical disabilities made and decorated lacquered pots, pictures and trinkets. Apparently all the workers were victims of the Vietnam War. We were also taken to the extraordinary Cao Dai Great Temple (Than That Cao Dai), 4km of Tay Ninh, built in 1926. Alongside another hundred or so tourists and school-children we were ushered inside the temple by white-robed attendants to experience the spectacle of the midday prayer. We were awed by the gaudy grandeur of the temple, but unsure as to why they would want to turn their prayer into a mass-tourist attraction? Although the day-trip did turn into an endurance event (hours and hours on a back-jarring bus), it was an interesting, educational day. In particular, the Cu Chi museum did a good job in bringing home the horror of jungle warfare, for both sides.
On a lighter note, one of Saigon’s highlights for Phil and I was Ben Thanh Market, conveniently just two streets from our hotel. This large indoor market, low-rise and low-key from the outside, was a maze of well-ordered, vibrant stalls, stacked floor to ceiling with goods from Vietnamese crafts, tourist tat, clothes, glitzy sandals, tailor-made suits and luggage to vegetables, fruit, dried fish, coffees and teas. In the centre were food and drink stalls keeping both shoppers and vendors refreshed. The competition for custom made the atmosphere and noise levels lively. It was hot too, temperatures rising further within the narrow alleys between the stalls, especially when the bartering kicked off. We really enjoyed wandering the market and watching the locals and tourists. Tourists were trying every tactic to get the price down against shop-keepers who had seen every trick in the book; very entertaining. It continued to amaze me that everyone, locals and tourists of all nationalities, communicated in English, pigeon-English perhaps but English all the same. It is testament to the market’s allure that we managed to get Mike, who detests shopping, inside. With so much to tempt us I’m amazed we limited our spending to a tea set….oh, yeah and a few other small things.
Another highlight was seeing Saigon at night from the 23rd floor of the Sheraton. The city was midway between swapping the Christmas fake snow and reindeer decorations for red lanterns, flowers and cutesy rabbits in time for Chinese New Year on 3rd February, so it was absolutely radiating.
In what felt like no time at all it was time to say goodbye to Mike and Eileen who were heading up to Hoi An for a rather chilly beach break, and for us to venture west to the Mekong Delta where we would travel up-river and over the border into Cambodia…….
