The bus ride from Siem Reap through Phnom Penh, across the Vietnamese border and into Saigon was going to be a long day and it did not fail to live up to that! We narrowly avoided hitting a huge buffalo about an hour out of Phnom Penh when it casually decided to walk out in front of the bus. Tara and I were only 2 rows from the front and I happened to be watching when it happened. Very close.
The Vietnamese border crossing wasn't too bad, certainly a better experience than the land border from Thailand to Cambodia. The bus company handled much of the transactions, however it was still a pretty slow affair, we were just blissfully unaware of the goings on while we sat on the bus (with the lights on and the door open, at dusk, with a couple thousand mosquitos joining us). I couldn't help but laugh at the two "security" officials that were x-raying our bags at the passport control gate. We had to get off the bus for a second time and drag all our belongings for screening. After slowly making our way through the lines, I watched as one of the guys was playing with his phone as our bags went through the machine. I walked a little further until his counterpart was also in view, he was engrossed in "candy crush saga" or whatever on his phone, perhaps I should have listened to that shady Cambodian guy that offered me a quick buck to smuggle in money, guns and drugs. It would have been too easy.
We arrived pretty late into the city and got some cash and then a cab for our hotel. It was still outrageously hot at 11pm and we crashed to bed after finding a small bakery that made salad rolls for dinner.
The next day was to be our only day in the city of Ho Chi Minh, as we started to be made aware of the freakishly busy domestic vacation period that was just starting in Vietnam. The trains had limited availability and so we had to book one that left the following morning, early, it was the start of many itinerary changes made based on ticket availability. We made the most of the day by visiting the war history museum and the parliament building were the Northern Vietnamese tanks came crashing through the front gates at the end of the war.
Another first was our exposure to the continuing trend of tourist traps and scams. Vietnam was to become even worse than Cambodia, though as I write this at the end of nearly 3 weeks, we have become accustomed to many of them. We were approached by a sly coconut milk street vendor who wouldn't leave us alone. He was friendly and trying to help give us directions to the 2 above mentioned places of interest. We already knew where they were and tried to stop and take pictures for a few minutes in the hope he would stop following us. I stupidly fell into the trap of letting him put his weight-bearing plank with two vessels hanging from it on my shoulder as he encouraged Tara to take a picture. After this Tara walked away and he grabbed a coconut and quickly cut the top off as I said no about 10 times, thinking to myself "here we go". I gave in thinking "fine, its a billion degrees, I will have one". However he then started preparing another as I continued to raise my voice saying NO again repeatedly. This was not a case of not understanding, he knew full well what I meant. He then demanded 150k dong for the 2 coconuts, a bit short of $8. I had already seen them selling elsewhere for around $1-$2, so I laughed and offered him far less but he ironically said "no-no" and then dropped his priced to 140k. I pulled out a 50k note and gave it to him and put my wallet away. He had the audacity to look at me and wave his finger in my face like I was some kind of bad man, I was relieved he was leaving and just mimicked the same action and pointed at him. Although it was an annoying experience, I felt like I had possibly taught him a lesson. But in reality I doubt it, I am sure he runs that bit over and over, day in and day out.
The War Museum was another moving experience. It was quite a large place with much to absorb. It was broken in to many segments, with loads of photographs and stories, and also physical exhibits of many of the tools of war. I was particularly drawn to the photographic section dedicated to photographers who died during the war. The images they captured and sent home of the horrors of war ranged from arresting to down-right frightening. They risked, and ultimately, lost their lives trying to show everyone who wasn't in Vietnam just how nasty it was. The other aspect that was most gripping was the section of the museum dedicated to the victims of chemical warfare. Agent Orange and the other colours, all derivatives of the EXTREMELY toxic chemical "Dioxin", were used to defoliate the jungle across vast areas of Vietnam. It not only burned through a triple canopy jungle leaving it look liked a desert waste-land, but it permeated its way into rivers and farmland, the water table, animals and fish. Direct and indirect contact with even the most minuscule amounts of this poison has led to countless deformities, skin conditions, cancers, and numerous other serious illnesses. Seeing images of both living and deceased victims with their array of afflictions sat me firmly on my arse. It was troubling to see all this and realise that many war crimes were committed by the US Military and the company that manufactured the agents, much of which has gone without repercussion.
The propaganda posters were also of interest. I particularly liked one that came out of Australia, talking about the way military arms contracts that were linked to very rich and powerful Americans in politics were what was driving this completely unnecessary conflict, and it even touched on false media stories that were used as excuses to go to war. It made me feel as though nothing has changed in the half century since this happened. The same kind of people are still pulling the same tricks, and the world just lets it happen.
We made the mistake of choosing Nha Trang over Mui Ne as the next destination. Nha Trang was a trashy beach city with no character or charm. Aimed at package tourists, it was expensive and tacky. The beach was nice, though like many Asian beaches suffered from littering. An incredible weather front came through at a time when I didnt have my camera, by the time I got back to the beach it had moved on to far so I missed the best shots of it. We spent some time at the "Sailing club" which had lovely grounds and pretty nice beach front bar. A small highlight.
I thought I had left the distressing images of agent orange in Saigon, but walking back to our hotel on the last night I saw in the flesh how devastating it really is. We had seen missing or miniature limbs, and some skin issues, but the poor boy I saw chilled my spine. I am putting in a guess at him being in his mid teens. He was walking on his hands, using flip flops as shoes for them. He moved from side to side as his arms swapped "strides". He was moving in what may resemble the "downward dog" yoga position. His spine curved quite drastically to the left and then his two very skinny legs trailed behind. One of them supported weight and was almost like the third leg of a tripod with his two arms, the other leg dragged lifeless along side it, it's club foot hanging to the side at an odd angle, dragging along the pavement. Both legs were literally skin over bone. I was coming up behind him and felt a wave of embarrasment come over myself. How do I just walk past this guy? Is it disrespectful if I do, do I say anything? do I look at him or smile? I couldn't handle it, I delayed for what seemed like a minute but was probably 10 seconds, then as the street corner approached I sped up and overtook him. From the corner of my eye I saw him look up at me with a smile. I felt awful, and I still do writing about it.
Our next destination was Hoi An, one of Vietnams culture capitals. We had our tickets and had set it up so that we would arrive on the day of the full moon, when extra celebrations take place and the town is buzzing with life. We were extra lucky in that it was Saturday night, and the city was also hosting a festival run by the ASEAN group. Tara will talk more about our time there.
All photographs by Tara
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