Follow up from Part 4: Đà Nẵng.
The hotel is quite impressive and my room on the 11th floor would probably be equally as impressive, if it weren’t overlooking what seems to be the most derelict part of the city. I stop by the rooftop bar, only to realize that facing the other way would not have made any difference afterall. I guess i’m already growing tired of Vietnam’s anarchist urban development.
I’ve already filled the two memory cards in my camera, and need to buy another pair. I’m two third of the way on my journey and many other sights to be seen. I’m just hoping that the new ones, albeit very cheap, will not die on me, and the older ones will not be lost in transit.
Just outside the hotel, a half-dozen of mopped passed me by, whispering “Marijuana?” I am torn between the appreciation of still passing for young enough to be offered some, and the desolation upon witnessing this historic capital turning into backpacker central, with all the fauna it attracts.
After the long travels of the day, I opt for a hot-stone massage. It’s only the third in ten days, and I already know i will regret not getting more while i could.
The places I had short-listed for dinner are all full already. I check in with Bar, who arrived in one piece through the motorcycle journey in the mountain, but they are expecting a later dinner and I’m starving. So I check into a family-owned restaurant. I’ve been postponing this meal since my arrival, but somehow, the energy of the place calls for it and i’m ordering the Vietnamese caramel pork, just like the one my grandmother used to cook. It brings back a lot of memories and too many emotions are floating back up straight to the surface of my eyes. I suppose my fondness for pepper, coriander and the many spiced fragrances are deeply rooted in my DNA…
Bar and the Dutch dude from the cooking class are having a beer literally next door, unbeknown to either of us. It feels great to see him again! He tells me about his hostel, shared with yet another Dutch girl from the group, and he gives me his Israel friend pin. Of all the people I’ve met on this trip, Bar is really the one I hope to see again…
Hue at night, with its hordes of bikes and neons gives cyberpunk vibes…
Everyone is tired, everyone has an early day — Lights out!
7.30am. For once, and with the early light out last night, it feels like I slept in! The breakfast buffet is located on the rooftop area – the best part of the view remains the morning fog engulfing some distant mountains.
There is a musical background in the breakfast area and I yet have to spend more than 24 hours in Vietnam without hearing at least once one version or another, preferably a cheap muzak version, of Céline Dion’s My Heart Will Go On. What’s with this kind of musical fetish?
The day tour was set up by the hotel. I think I have reached the tipping point in my journey, where spending too long trying to figure out the best there is is just not worth it anymore, and convenience is king. The hotel package will likely not be the best around, it will likely not be the cheapest, but at least it won’t be a gamble or a scam. Good enough is sometimes best.
There’s already quite a crowd in the lobby, and several groups readying to get on with their tours. I strike up a conversation with an American around my age, but he’s not on my group and gone within 5 minutes. While I am the last one from the hotel to be picked up, I’m still the only one in the mini van. It gives me a vantage point of view on the people with whom I’ll be sharing my day:
- A Dutch couple with two kids (Dutch seem to be everywhere);
- A Spanish couple from Barcelona who hired their own Spanish-speaking guide;
- An Asian couple; and
- A German couple.
The Dutch are sitting next to me and the Germans behind me. I feel surrounded!
The advertisement mentioned that we would be having a little cruise on the main river crossing Hue, separating the city from the Citadel. Well, what we are having is a 30-minute trip on a shady-looking boat, decorated with dragon heads on the front, and heavy smokes in the back. Surrounded by many other similar boats on that river, the only perfume coming out of this so-called “Perfume River” is mainly exhaust fumes.
But the most disturbing thing happening on this cruise is that lady who keeps circling the boat with merchandise, trying to sell us everything from pop-up cards to umbrellas. No one, of course, wants to buy anything, especially that early on a day-long trip…
Instead, the guide could have been providing insightful remarks about the surrounding areas and details about the day planning…
The first stop is yet another pagoda. This one was home to Thích Quảng Đức who drove all the way down to Saigon to protest again Ngô Đình Diệm’s persecution of Buddhists and set himself on fire. The monk’s car has been restored, and a lot of literature about the events is made available. Of course, the most well-known iconography from the events remain the Rage Against The Machine’s album art.
However, the other Chinese tourists are really spoiling the place, notably by dropping their trash in the open, littering anywhere and everywhere. We visit yet another market, but the sheer number of tourists makes it safer to snap street shots instead. Also, so many rats are running around!
During the visit of the Citadel, the mentions of French and US troops become more prevalent. Our guide is quite knowledgeable and speaks a decent English, even if his main line is telling us that in Vietnam without money, you die.
The German couple is weird. They are really close from one another in the van, but somewhat distant on location. He seems to be suffering from some kind of illness or discomfort. Nonetheless, Sabine and Christian turn out to be quite fun to hang out with during the day. They’re also the only ones speaking decent English within the group…
After the Pagoda, the rest of the trip is happening by van. At the Citadel, the Spanish-speaking guide forgot to take his credentials, leaving the couple pretty pissed and stranded.
I was expecting some heavy walking, and I did good by taking my Peruvian walking sticks along, especially with the numerous stairs on the way. It’s amazing that they managed to build all of this over a very short period of time before, well, the French took over. A photograph, showing the French supervisor sitting above the Emperor is a sad demonstration of the humiliation that took place
Over lunch, I get cockblocked by the Spanish couple who forces me to a lonely dead spot at the end of the table, living them and the non-English-speaking Asian couple in the middle, away from the Dutch and Germans. So I update my journal and enjoy the food – the restaurant is not bad even if the set menu is not all that great. Most of us had checked the reviews last night and thought about going there anyway.
Toward the end of the lunch break, Sabine notices me journaling and sits with me for a little while. This is a kind gesture, which is much appreciated, even if I would’ve preferred all three of us talking over the full duration of lunch instead!
The day is quite long and the van trips between each location (the Citadel, the Emperor’s tomb, Đông Ba Market) make it even longer. I am trying to capture as many images as I can, except on the last top, which is an incense-making shop, and clearly a tourist trap. We see so many identical stores on the way that this closing to the day reminds me of the saleslady on the boat at the beginning of the day…
I so badly need a shower by the end of this tour, but everything is already packed and checked out. I will have to wait until I get to Hanoi. Plus, I had to pack for a plane ride and everything is messed up. Thinking about landing in Hanoi in several hours and repacking everything to leave for Ha Long Bay is far from the most enchanting thought.
Before leaving, I tell Sabine and Christian to meet up at the DMZ bar close to the hotel, to use up the free cocktail coupon given during the tour, before I leave to the airport and the North an they continue on their journey South. I get ready quickly, obviously, since I can’t shower. The place is cashing in on the war theme all over the place, to the point that it’s disgusting. Bar told me yesterday that the same family owned the youth hostel he was staying at and the coupon also tends to indicate that they also own the touring company as well. Backpacker central Indeed!
The free cocktail is to be chosen among two, both sounding equally disgusting. I take the boozed-up version. There wasn’t any good choice anyway.
Once Sabine and Christian arrive, we move outside and they tell me about their life near Frankfurt. Christian seems to open up a bit more than during the day. Sabine, on the other hand, is shining and the driving force behind the two of them. I advise them against the cocktail with alcohol, and we all settle for beers instead. Before I know it, it’s time for me to go. A quick stop by the hotel before it itching a ride only to realize that my walking stick broke during the day. Oh well, thanks for the three years of service across the globe!
Once at the airport, a crowd of Spanish backpackers play Uno while too snotty French brats surf on their iPhone. Stereotypes… Once again, I’m placed by the emergency exit, next to a German girl obviously from Latham & Watkins, gauging by the notepad and pen she borrowed from her lawfirm. This is too much.
The hotel I’m staying at sent a limo with a code and everything. This is quite enjoyable, at the very least for the A/C in the car. Once there, I realize that almost a year to the day, Mary had stayed in the very same place. Passing the breakfast area, I can’t help but wondering where she then sat. But surprisingly, not sad.
The room is really gorgeous and the staff is welcoming. Shame I won’t really be able to enjoy it all that much – time to reorganize the bags once again. Leaving the larger part and just bringing a day-pack for Ha Long.
Next stop: Hanoi
