How long has this been going on? (Ha Long Bay to Ho Chi Minh City)

Fear not dear reader the title is not a repeat or a misprint. Carly Simon does a sensational rendition of the Gershwin classic How long has this been going on? A song that has been recorded by numerous artists. I chose this version over that of Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan because I could echoes of Billie Holliday. Enjoy. It's worth a listen.

Another early morning start, dear reader, as the last excursion of our Ha Long Bay experience was a trip to a floating village. There is a number of these communities, dotted across Ha Long and Ha Lan, but the villagers are being encouraged by the authorities to return to living on land. Part of the reason for this is pollution of the waterways. They have tried to manage this through education programmes with some success. However, should a group not learn to live more cleanly with less environmental impact, they are relocated to land. Not a happy outcome for people who have lived their entire lives on the water. Therefore, over recent years, the floating village populations have declined.

Early morning light on the limestone.

At 6:45am, a light pre-visit breakfast was on offer but we felt we could forego this and wait till the post-visit brunch. An APT tour means you never go hungry. I’ve already started skipping meals or courses on offer. So at 7:30am, we joined the group on the tender to go to Cua Van village for a presentation and a tour conducted by locals.

The village has communal areas that are large open pontoon-type platforms, connected by ramps or simply tied up next to each other. Around the inlet, floating houses line the shore and you can walk from one neighbour’s house to the next. Each house has netted ‘tanks’ which contain fish that they have caught and are growing for later consumption.

One section of the floating village.

Transport around the village is by traditional row boat. The locals stand on a platform at the back of the boat which has seats for passengers. They then use oars to row forwards. Nothing happens at speed – you get where you are going when you get there, but no journey is any great distance.

Once we were on the pontoons, we were taken to the museum which presents a scale model of the village as well as cultural, historical and logistical information on the village. Like Australia’s First Nations people, this is a society whose continuity is supported by an oral tradition, in this case, song.

Once we had this background information, small groups departed for a floating tour around the entire precinct to see up close the houses and the other infrastructure.

The village has its own version of services. They have boats loaded up with all kinds of produce and products that criss-cross the village to provide home delivery shopping. A lady, by herself in a row boat, slowly rowed around the waterway, collecting with a net on a bamboo pole, any floating rubbish such as plastic cups or bags. I’m not sure she was winning the fight.

Every house has at least one hammock on the front porch and one dog. Obviously these things are not reliant on each other. On this Saturday morning, many of the locals were lazily swinging back and forth while they watched us tour past their homes. It occurred to me that you wouldn’t want to be a sleep walker around here or an unconscious midnight wander might end in a very rude awakening.

The ubiquitous dog.

Children attend primary school taught by teachers who live in the village from Monday to Friday. Secondary students must either go to the land-based schools (5am starts to get there) or go to boarding school.

We rowed around the village in one of the traditional boats. When I say that, we were actually rowed around the village by an old woman. The community is about one third of the size it used to be after many people were removed to the land because of the pollution problems. As we moved past the houses, the differentiation of wealth was obvious. Some houses had solar panels. Others had larger pontoon areas at their disposal. There were small boats for fishing and larger ones for squid fishing adorned with lights because they work at night and the light attracts the squid. The hammocks appeared to be occupied by the younger members of the community. The older people were mending nets, tending the fish or preparing food.

A squid boat.

Not everyone lived in a floating house, some lived on a boat. There were only a couple of these boats permanently moored but I doubt that they would be seaworthy, if they were required to move from their moorings.

More holes than swiss cheese.

Once the tour was completed, we were taken back to the ship and while we sailed back towards the marina in preparation to disembark, we vacated our rooms, checked out and went to brunch. The timing of check out was dependent on the ship reaching a location on the bay where there was enough internet signal for e-payments to be processed. Thankfully, when we arrived at the marina, we were spared another stint in the chaotic transit lounge as our bus was waiting to transport us to Hà Nôi’s domestic airport. Here Tea assisted us to seamlessly check in for our flight to Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC), scheduled to depart at 3 pm. Once all bags were checked and tickets issued, we went to the Lucky Restaurant, within the terminal, for a final meal with Tea, a light lunch.

Mending nets.

Tea is an excellent guide and has diversified his business to try and build a better life for his family. He has his own website where he sells bags and other merchandise. You can reach it here. On the bus trip to the airport, Tea phoned his daughter and a number of us had the opportunity to speak with her. She is a very confident young lady of 9 and was preparing for an English-speaking competition to be held the next day. Her English was extremely good. I hope she did well.

After that we sadly bid Tea farewell and headed through security, an interesting experience because, despite having to take off everything except our clothes (shoes, watches etc) we all set the alarm off for no explicable reason. Patted down, we redressed and headed to the crowded departure gate. Naked travel will soon be a thing.

We were interested to see what this flight would be like since, in early 2024, we will be travelling on Vietnamese Airlines for part of our next European excursion. Boarding commenced on time and we found ourselves squashed onto airport buses to be taken some distance away to the plane. With some trepidation, we located our seats in economy. Bonus!! We had scored the bulkhead row with additional legroom. Our glee was short-lived, however, as we quickly discovered that both crew and passengers saw the space in front of us as a thoroughfare to go from one side of the plane to the other so we were almost constantly moving our feet out of the way throughout the flight. Thankfully, the duration of the journey was less than two hours and we landed in HCMC to be met by another APT guide. After luggage retrieval, he steered our group out of the terminal and through the carpark to a bus to transport us to the Park Hyatt Hotel, a 5-star establishment in the heart of the Saigon retail district. This would be our home for the next two nights.

Cruise Director, Long, whom we had briefly met on our first evening in Hà Nôi, was waiting to greet us and expedite our check in. This was critical as we arrived after 6pm and were expected to attend the welcome dinner for the larger cruise group at 7 pm. By the time we made it into our room and the bags arrived, it was almost time to go to the mezzanine level where we saw the rest of our fellow travellers. There are around 67 in the group. Many had arrived earlier in the day and were already seated, socialising and eating. We all felt a bit frazzled but settled during dinner and had the opportunity to chat to Long, who outlined the organisation for the next couple of days and answered any questions. 

After the noise and rush of dinner, a couple of our group repaired to the quiet of one of the hotel bars for a calming nightcap before heading off to bed. Unsurprisingly another early start awaits us in the morning, as we head back out of HCMC to visit the Long Tan Memorial – a full day trip to the next province.

Until next time.

Arizona (Ha Long Bay, Vietnam)

Welcome back dear reader, the lack of connectivity has thrown me somewhat. By the time you are reading this, I will be floating on another body of water. However, that is the future. Let's pretend we're Tony Abbott and live in the past. On second thought, no, let's just read on together.

Despite imbibing the rice wine last night, our sleep was not the pleasant slumber we had anticipated. Unlike the hotel, the arctic strength doona was safely locked in the cupboard. A sheet was the only protection we had from the air conditioning and it was not enough. I attempted to adjust the air con around 1:30am, dear reader. Unsuccessfully. Sometime later I switched it off. Or so I thought. By pushing what I believed was the ‘off’ button, I actually adjusted the air flow to the setting I had attempted some hours earlier. Sleep at last.

Sunrise on the bay.

Breakfast was the expected clash of cultures. I went straight for phò. It’s light, tasty and nutritious. The coffee was pre-made in a large metal jug and looking at it is as close as I’ll get. The tea jug still had the Lipton tags dangling from the top. Maybe juice, there was no water. My choice: watermelon, passionfruit or guava. Passionfruit it is. One sip evoked a trip down memory lane to my teenage Passiona drinking years, although without the fizz.

More sunrise.

With that, let's dispense with today's song title. Arizona by Mark Lindsay, a one hit wonder from 1969, was a classic summer song from my pre-teen beach days at Elouera (near Cronulla).

A quick change of footwear into my boots for the cave experience and it was down to Level 1 to get on the tender. Our group numbers 13, but there were just two of us willing to take on the largest cave in Ha Long Bay. Plus Tea, and some of the other passengers. And no, dear reader, the person accompanying me was not Jayne.

The cave.

The Sung Sot cave is a naturally formed cavern in the limestone and has been used for hundreds of years as a home to local fishermen, or as a place to shelter from bad weather. The walk was described as being very difficult, 700 very steep steps. It was nothing like it of course. The climb to the cave entrance was steep, but it was a well-maintained stairway. The relaxed pace and the break for a kodak moment ensured an easy passage to the mouth of the cave.

Apparently that is a koala on the column on the left.

The cave is massive with a naturally regulated temperature. There are the usual limestone formations, stalactites, stalagmites, columns, shawls and so on, but it is not a living cave. There is not a consistent water flow to ensure the continued growth of the features. The path is well trodden, reasonably even, level, and well-marked out with lights and railings. There are limestone structures that the more imaginative have identified as buddha or a horse’s head or a koala. I saw Gollum, not a koala, but hey, the place had a Lord of the Rings feel.

Lord of the Rings or Journey to the centre of the earth.

Soon enough we were back out into the heat and humidity and the gift shop. Perhaps gift stall is a better description. It sold a wide variety of goods from pearls to local red wine to shells and handbags. Then we made the not-so arduous trek down the stairs, back to the tender and on to ship, where Jayne was waiting.

The gift shop.

The next stop was the Ha Long Bay pearl farm. I could feel my credit card warming up in my pocket.

The Àu Co II, our floating home.

The pearl farm is quite a significant operation. Every one of the floats (pictured) is attached to a rope that holds cages of potential pearl bearing oysters. The success rate is about 30% which makes the process expensive and labour intensive. Of that 30%, only about 10%-20% are deemed worthy of jewellery. The rest are ground up to make pearl-based cosmetics, a very lucrative industry in Vietnam, where the ladies are so skin conscious. 

Pearls, pearls, pearls.

We were able to watch the pearl doctor seeding oysters. He selected an oyster that had something inserted between the two halves of the shell to keep it open and placed it onto a stand. The plug was removed and he used callipers to keep the shell open. With something that resembled a dental tool he picked up a piece of the red substance on a nearby board and rubbed it into parts of the oyster flesh. Then he placed a small core into the oyster and removed it from the stand ready to be placed back into the water for a pearl to hopefully develop. The process was fascinating. The oysters, depending on their stage of development are then returned to still or moving water. The more mature, stronger oysters are placed in the moving water where they can feed more freely.

The pearl doctor.

Surprisingly there was a pearl shop. I know, are you as shocked as I am, dear reader? Once again we were subjected to Vietnamese high pressure sales tactics. One assistant makes a bee-line for you and follows you around, pulling out any piece of jewellery you might linger over. I actually went into the shop with the intention of buying another pearl bracelet, but the offerings were no different to what I already own. Jayne looked at the black pearls for a pendant to match her earrings, but wasn’t sure the colour match was right. The assistant apologised for the poor range because a man was in yesterday and bought 9 black pearls for his daughters. One each. That really doesn’t bear thinking about.

Back on board, we found that a large contingent of our fellow passengers had disembarked as they were only on the 2 day-1 night programme. It was time for a four-course lunch of Vietnamese dishes and then a nap before our APT group plus six others set off in the tender to visit Cat Ba Island and the Viet Hai village. There were two ways to arrive at the village, once we had disembarked from the tender; oversized electric golf cart or bicycle. I was keen to cycle but the information sheet identified three steep hills and when I inquired, I was told they were so steep I would have to push the bike up the hill. I opted for the electric cart ride with Jayne, only to find the hills were neither steep nor long.

A wasps' nest at Ha Vie village.

The island is quite mountainous and 60% of it is national park. The endangered Langur is resident there, although we did not see one. The village is like so many in Vietnam, subsistence living, although tourism plays a role in this area. We walked around one of the local farms and were dropped at a place to rest where we could purchase drinks to help the local economy and then stopped at a fish massage establishment. Don’t let your imagination run away with you, dear reader. It was the fish that eat the dead skin from your feet. A few of our group bravely removed their shoes and socks and put their feet in the water, only to remove them just as quickly, once the fish arrived. It was quite amusing and many laughs were shared before we headed back to the ship.

The afternoon activity was a swim around the ship. The water temperature is in the zone at 28° but the thought of having to pack wet clothes for tomorrow’s departure ensured I stayed in my cabin until happy hour.

Rowing with his feet while squid fishing.

Tonight’s feast was a bbq. The pick of the plates was the squid. The steak not so much – very thin slices, way over-cooked before your very eyes. There were prawns on skewers, chicken and pork along with papaya salad, spring rolls, noodles and rice dishes. This was followed by a nightcap with other guests before we retreated to our cabin to sort out our bags, in preparation for our departure tomorrow.

Our table napkin for the last meal.

Until tomorrow (or when I have a reliable internet connection).

How long (Hà Nôi to Ha Long Bay, Vietnam)

Today dear reader we leave the anarchy and chaos of Hà Nôi for the peace and serenity of Ha Long Bay. The bay is the inspiration (or otherwise) for today's title. Another trek down memory lane to 1974 with UK band Ace and their hit How long.

It is one of those early starts, the first of many I fear. Loitering over my second coffee at breakfast has gone the way of the relevance of the Liberal Party to Australian politics. A mere memory. Perhaps in Cambodia when we farewell the tour group, our more relaxed lifestyle will return.

Bags tagged and put out for collection, we went to breakfast and then boarded the bus to head to Ha Long Bay. Overnight our family had grown by two as we were joined by a Kiwi couple who had had the holiday start from hell. They had arrived in Singapore to be informed that they could not proceed onto Vietnam because their visas did not have sufficient time on them. Apparently, they expired one day before they were due to leave Vietnam.

While the problem was sorted, they had to find somewhere to stay for 5 days before they could join the tour. They finally arrived at the hotel last night and so our group now totals 13 until we get to Ho Chi Minh City where we will be joining a larger group for the Mekong cruise.

Our 3.5 hour bus ride took us out of Hà Nôi away from what we could now see as a very smoggy environment, to the clearer countryside, past farms, ducks, small communities, rice paddy burial sites, ducks, rice paddies, and some larger towns. Did I mention there were ducks?

Our tour guide, Tea, punctuated the journey with stories about his childhood and family as well as some of his adult life in the big city. He is a very engaging storyteller and his personal anecdotes give insight into the Vietnamese culture and traditions which are so different to ours.

Tea, our tour guide.

He also provides context to particular features, at first unnoticed but then, once pointed out, apparent everywhere - like the fact that most Vietnamese houses are built with no side windows, only front and back ones. This is because everyone lives in such close proximity that no one wants to look out their window and see their next-door neighbour all the time (so Tea says anyway).

For that special room.

After about 90 minutes travel, it was time for a rest stop at a centre in a mining town that, for a number of reasons, is known as Red Star . It is a centre that was a target of ‘possession’ a number of times throughout history because of its valuable commodity – the name therefore denotes the struggle to defend it as a part of Vietnam, the blood that was shed and also the products of the mines – many precious gems, including the unique star ruby. This ruby, when held under a light, reveals a star emanating from its lustre. It is quite amazing.

Hard at work.

Our rest stop was at a centre which has been established as a social enterprise to provide training and employment for soldiers’ children who have a disability and would otherwise struggle to find work in a culture that heavily defines itself by productivity.

In this centre, young people are producing intricate works of embroidery, ceramics, clothes, jewellery and food. We wandered through watching them create their pieces which are then on display for purchase. One embroidery piece can take a month to complete, depending on its size and detail. Initially, this social concept came to life after the American War in which many people were genetically affected by the wanton spraying of agent orange across the area.

Jayne almost knocked me over in her eagerness to see the star rubies. Purely to see stones because they are so unusual. Not because she wanted to add one to her jewellery collection. There was a vast array of rings, earrings, pendants in both yellow and white gold. The star was indeed clearly visible under the light displays. Jayne selected a pendant but it was set in yellow gold – “No problem, our jewellers will reset it for you in white gold while you look around the centre.” That provided time for a couple of additional purchases and then the pendant came back reset, boxed with its certificate of authenticity. The Pandora disappointment of earlier in the week was wiped from memory. At least until we reach Ho Chi Minh.

It's a bit blurry, but you get the idea.

Back on the bus, we headed to Ha Long Bay where we were greeted at the Bhaya Cruise Centre at the marina. This is a waiting lounge for passengers to transit to and from the Ha Long cruise boats. It was very crowded, noisy and chaotic, so Hà Nôi, but thankfully we were not there very long before we were called to board the Àu Co II (pronounced ochre). The brief excitement here was due to an internet connection. The excitement and internet connection were both brief.

There is a lot of unfinished development.

We had already been given our cabin key so after passing through the traditional drum welcome on board, we went to our cabin to ensure our luggage had arrived. Once all was located, we headed upstairs for the welcome, introductions, orientation and safety briefing. The cabin is more spacious than anticipated and the air conditioning most welcome.

A king sized bed.

The verandah.

Lunch was then served, a four-course menu, as we cruised towards the south east part of the bay. It was immediately apparent that this is a very busy waterway with cruise ships and tankers everywhere. The waters are very calm and you are surrounded by limestone formations rising out of the water, most with sheer vertical sides. The mountains are thinly covered by vegetation, some sporting caves, where the waters have eaten the soft limestone. It is very beautiful but doesn’t quite live up to the ‘hollywood’ shots I’ve seen. The persistent haze removed any sharpness from the view.

Ok, it's colour enhanced.

These natural features provided some of the onboard offerings such as an afternoon visit to a small cave to walk through to a beach for swimming. The more energetic could go kayaking around the area. We elected to stay on board and enjoy the views from the deck. There was a bigger cave on offer tomorrow morning.

The 'small' cave.

After changing for dinner, the ship sailed to its anchor point for the night and everyone gathered on the bar/restaurant deck for happy hour, accompanied by a masterclass in spring roll making.

Another one.

Another four-course meal was served. We certainly won’t go hungry; this is an APT tour. The after-dinner experience - a Vietnamese rice wine tasting. Interesting. Wine? Not really. Saké. No. Liqueur? Most definitely. The lowest alcohol content was 28%. The taste varied with the product, obviously, although the ‘wine’ made from bark tasted like dirt. However, it had a medicinal element. It improves a bad back. So I drank Jayne’s as well. There was another that was strongly coconut flavoured and the pick of the bunch was Honey-Rose wine. The fourth one was as forgettable as the bark wine.

Sunset on the bay.

“Wine” that strong will ensure a good night’s sleep. After another busy day, we retired to our cabin to sleep in the quiet of the bay.

Until next time, if I can find an internet connection.

Ho ho ho, it's magic (Hà Nôi, Vietnam)

A warning dear reader, this day was jam-packed and it is, therefore, a long read. It is also our 400th post. Grab a glass and settle in. I acknowledge the gratuitous use of photographs to break up the text. So sue me.

The next day was the first fully organised day. We gathered in the foyer prior to boarding the bus at 8am. First stop was Uncle Ho’s Mausoleum. Déjà vu, except today it was open. Then to the Temple of Literature and cyclo ride back to the hotel via the old quarter. We opted out of the Temple tour and ride because we spent plenty of time at the former on Monday and the latter, well, just no. Instead, we would explore the Women’s Museum.

The now open museum in the background.

The way in to the mausoleum was long and circuitous. I imagine this is to help with crowd control as much as it is to replicate the concept of pilgrimage. Jayne referred to it as Vietnam’s version of the Hajj. Apparently, every citizen makes the journey to visit Uncle Ho at least once in life.

Imposing and a little ostentatious.

And lo, there was Ho. Lying in state. He looks remarkably well for someone who has been dead for 54 years. Much better than the corpse of St Bernadette in Lourdes, but then she has been dead a lot longer and hasn’t been afforded the luxury of returning to Russia for frequent embalming touch ups. We all filed past in respectful silence, some locals bowing as they reached Uncle Ho’s feet. The soft, muted light on the body gives it a kind of glow and makes the skin look waxy almost, like a … oh, no, I’m sure he’s real. Although it is magic. Hence today's title all the way from 1974, Ho ho ho it's magic by Pilot.

Out into the sunshine and humidity, well, haze and humidity, we walked towards Ho’s house. There were many more people here today now that the mausoleum was open. Including many troops in training, visiting from Cambodia and Laos.

More training required.

Tea related many amusing anecdotes as we wandered the grounds, but this post is already long enough. At one point, we picked up a stray tourist. An Englishman with “England forever” tattooed on his forearm and IQ equivalent to his shoe size. “What is this place?” he asked Tea. Seriously? Who just wanders aimlessly off the street into a major tourist attraction and doesn’t know where they are and why they are there? He did. And then tried to hang with us to get the benefit of Tea’s knowledge. Tea outsmarted him, well it wasn’t difficult, and dropped to the rear of the group and slowed our progress until he went away.

The Presidential palace.

The Temple of Literature was the next stop and we stayed on the bus to be delivered to the Women’s Museum. No long-distance treks for us today, although we would walk home from the museum.

The museum is four stories tall. The first level was the entry foyer which displayed a statue of Vietnamese womanhood and some photo portraits by a famous French photographer to set the theme of the exhibition.

Daughters read this closely to ensure the re-writing of the will.

Level 2 focussed on marriage and childbirth. It had representations of the marriage process and ceremonies from each different ethnic group in Vietnam. Some were differentiated by matrilineal as opposed to patrilineal customs. It was quite fascinating, even if the differences between some groups weren’t that major. At the entrance to this exhibit was the statement: ‘Wife and husband are as inseparable as a pair of chopsticks.’ No further comment.

The wedding party. The bride is under the canopy.

Level 3 covered the role of women in the workforce which was combined with their role in the resistance and/or revolutionary forces. This section of the exhibition was particularly interesting as it conveyed the North Vietnamese perspective of the various acts of “possession” and the people’s (women’s) determination to refuse to be possessed. It provided additional layers to the reading we have already done to try to overcome the educational censorship we experienced back in the 1960’s and 1970’s.

The marital chamber used to divide the room.

The final level was women’s fashion, through which we passed pretty quickly so we could ensure we were back at the hotel in plenty of time to re-join the tour group for the afternoon programme.

After a bite to eat and beers by the pool, we gathered to walk around the lake again to the water puppet extravaganza in the afternoon.

The water puppet stage.

Water puppets! I’m not really sure how to describe them or even where to begin. As the title suggests there were puppets and water. There were also musicians, singers and a narrative that emanated from behind the temple façade. We were in the second row so we had an excellent view. Perhaps too close because beneath the surface of the water we could see the rods on which the puppets were impaled. 

Some of the musicians and singers.

Many photographs were taken because I couldn’t believe (a) that this was a thing, (b) the theatre was sold out, (c) the performance lasted for almost an hour, and (d) I was there despite being warned not to go.

In brief: puppets were on rods and were whisked around the pool of water. There were numerous scenes utilising different puppets and portraying cameos of Vietnamese life. The musicians accompanied the performances with music. The entire narrative, was, as expected, in Vietnamese. One female puppet had totally exposed breasts. I did not understand the reason for this. The puppeteers work behind a screen in waist deep water, five performances peer day, 365 days per year. Female puppeteers were only a recent addition because they could wear trout waders and not get their bits wet. Apparently it was OK for the males to get their bits wet, although they now wear waterproof pants too. If you can explain this piece of latter-day sexism, please let me know.

A scene depicting ... I have no idea.

Puppet torture complete, we walked back to the hotel to change for dinner. In a moment of separatism, Jayne and I were the only one’s dining at Koto. Every other member of the group had chosen another restaurant, the same restaurant. A taxi was ordered and instructions provided to the driver. I was given 200,000 VND and a card that instructed the driver to return us to the hotel after we had eaten. So far so good.

It went on.

We drove through the chaotic traffic with sharp intakes of breath every time there was a near miss. It’s a wonder we didn’t hyperventilate. The driver was much bemused by us and made an attempt to joke about the Hà Nôi traffic. We chatted to each other until I realised the taxi had stopped and I began fishing in my pocket for the money. Our destination, Koto, was clearly visible on the other side of the street. Something wasn’t right and there were several failed attempts at discussion. He then resorted to Google translator and kept coming up with the name of another restaurant further down the street. No, I reinforced, Koto.

Not content, he crawled the car further along, horns blaring behind us. Koto I kept repeating. Finally, he relented when I handed him the cash. Then, “Oh, oh!” Back to Google, no change. Card? I inquired. No. A lot more circular discussion. Like Sydney trains, we were going nowhere. A spark, he phoned the hotel concierge, a brief chat, and then hands the ear piece to me. “We are at the restaurant,” say I. “He has no change.” I pass the phone back. We crawl further along the street. The driver gets out and approaches shopkeepers and people on the street to get the required change. We pay. We are finally allowed out of the taxi and walk back to restaurant, breathing a sigh of relief. The scene has movie potential from comedy through to horror.

Two of the puppeteers.

Into the restaurant. The comedy continues. Please use the lift. The doors open and the lift is full of trolleys and trays. So, sorry, please take the stairs. Onward and upward. Literally. It wasn’t a spiral staircase but it could have been. First floor were the toilets. On we climb. The doors open on the second floor and we go to walk in. No, no, please up again. Jayne is looking for oxygen as the atmosphere gets thin. We reach the next floor and the doors open. Please, says our host. We step forward and are beckoned to a table. As we move, no, she says and calls through two men from behind us.

Sorry, sorry, she says, this way. We commence the climb back down from the lofty heights of the 3rd floor back to the 2nd floor. Hmm. Déjà vu. We are seated. It is a set menu and it looks like too much food, and it is, but it is very good. Jayne orders a glass of wine, (for some reason - they serve by the bottle in many places) and says, you know one glass won’t cut it tonight? Agreed.

The wine is French and passable. There was De Bortoli on the list. Travel to Vietnam and drink wine from Victoria (probably the Riverina)? No thank you.

Interesting wiring.

Koto is a restaurant that trains disadvantaged Vietnamese teens in all levels of hospitality. They are at varying stages of their training and some are more comfortable than others. The dishes arrived and one was fish wrapped in banana leaf. I asked the young server whether the leaf is also eaten. “No.” he assured me and then as he turned to walk away, he paused and turned back and pointed to the clam dish. “You should eat the clams but not the shells.” he counselled. Good advice.

The taxi trip back to the hotel was uneventful. We contacted Daisy and asked could she deliver the last dress to the hotel as we weren’t going to get to the dress shop. “No worries.” came the reply. The dress arrived at 9:30 pm.

We repacked the bags ready for our departure to Ha Long Bay in the morning and called it a day.

Until tomorrow, assuming there in internet.

I feel possessed (Hà Nôi, Vietnam)

Hello again dear reader, it has been a busy couple of days. Currently we are on a bus, heading for Ha Long Bay, but that is the future. Let’s return to the past.

It is officially our last day of freedom, tomorrow evening the tour commences. While an organised tour has its benefits, we like our freedom, so today we decided we would tie up a few loose ends and have a relaxing day.

The historic tour of the hotel was interesting but it didn’t allow enough time for us to read all of the information on the boards. After breakfast, that is where we headed. The posters detail a potted history of the Metropole Hotel from its beginnings in 1901. It covers French occupation and wars, international and civil. One of the more interesting posters listed ‘famous visitors’. Generally, they were politicians and celebrities like Brad Pitt or more classically Somerset Maugham.

One of the posters

The Metropole became a pseudo activist centre during the American War. Famous American anti-war activists like Jane Fonda and Joan Baez stayed here. As did war correspondents from many different countries. It has been the centre of social and political life in Hà Nôi for many years.

An historic phone still in use.

Happily there were some Australian names on the ‘important persons’ list. Distressingly one was Scott John Morison. He was full-named. When your mum does that you know you’ve been bad, so it’s quite fitting, I guess. He was a bad PM. If I’d been his dad, I would have wiped that smirk of his smug little face when he was still a child.

Sorry, I digress. One excellent quote from Alfred Cunningham (I have no idea) was, “After a visit to Hà Nôi one is curious to learn what the French would have done with Singapore or Hong Kong if they had possessed them”. He sounds impressed and I love the colonisers’ use of the word ‘possessed’. Which of course inspired today's title. I feel possessed by Crowded House

A painting by Joan Baez completed while staying at the Metropole.

I haven’t checked, dear reader, because the hotel was booked for us as part of the tour, but I assume it is 5 star. The giveaway is that the staff hover like ringwraiths, waiting to swoop without notice. They can be walking down a corridor and will change direction to open a door for you, or push the elevator button. At breakfast, after selecting some delectable pastries, they stealthily sneak up behind you and pull your chair out as you are about to sit. Everywhere you go, you are met with ‘bonjours’ and ‘bonsoirs’ and bowing. All a bit disconcerting for a working-class boy. Sometimes for amusement value after I’m greeted in French, I continue with “ Comment ça va”? Usually I get a smile, but occasionally there is mild panic. Very few Sofitel staff speak more French than “hello”.

Jayne, not known for her powers of observation, is able to spot a Pandora store from 500 metres through haze, heavy traffic and crowds. Not here and she actually remarked on it. A quick question to Dr Google suggested the Pandora store was next door to the hotel and that we would have walked past it a dozen times. No way. I was shocked. Armed with our trusty paper map, we went in search for a trinket to represent Hà Nôi to commence the next bracelet (the original one is now fully occupied).

Oh what an adventure! Around the block and around the block we wandered without success. It appears that the Pandora store that was next door is no longer. Renovations. Jayne’s Pandora-detection sense had not failed her after all. Relieved, we adjourned for a beer, although we were probably drinking for different reasons. Ho Chi Minh City will have to be the first Vietnamese city to grace her new bracelet.

We found a wedding.

The afternoon was still ours to determine, before the tour officially commenced in the evening. On the food tour yesterday, we had asked Sinh, our guide, where we might find a place to purchase an Ào Dái as a birthday present for our oldest granddaughter. In the course of our meanderings around the Old City, Sinh took us down a street that contained a number of shops jam packed with these Vietnamese long dresses. He waved at all of them and then said, “We would go to Vinh Thang if we want one. Made on the premises from top quality silk.” This became the focus of our last free afternoon.

And another wedding.

We set out around the now very familiar lake to retrace our path to the Ào Dái street. A quick reconnoître of the other ready to wear shops led us into Vinh Thang’s shop, with sewing machine positioned right at the front door and the walls festooned with samples of silks, all colours and intricately embroidered, hanging from the ceiling, ready to be selected and sewn into the elegant Ào Dái.

And a car, but no Pandora.

A little elderly lady greeted us animatedly, waving her hands around and offering to retrieve samples from up on high. Unfortunately, she spoke no English and trying to communicate that we were shopping for our granddaughter, not Jayne, became a comedic but unsuccessful charades exercise. Jayne tried French to no avail and so we were forced to leave without securing the coveted order.

Luckily, we were also en route to collect the dresses from Daisy, and when we arrived at her shop, we asked her whether she could make an Ào Dái before we had to leave Hà Nôi. She showed us various designs and colours (on her phone this time – no trip to paradise) and we settled on something we liked. It would be delivered the next evening to our hotel, our last night in Hà Nôi.

Another walk around the lake and back to the hotel for a quick shower and change of clothes before dinner. We had a briefing with Tea (not Thi as I had assumed) and went to the Spice Restaurant in the hotel with the rest of our travel companions or family as Tea refers to us.

Then it was bedtime. I’m not sure whether the early nights are a product of the time zone shift, the humidity, the distance walked each day or a combination of all three. 

Until the next time I have an internet connection.