Hoi An is lovely. It’s beaches are lined with luxury high-rise hotels and condo’s. World-class golf courses have sprouted from the rice paddies in the surrounding area. But Liz and I only glimpse these from a distance. Some of our tour group do go to the beach and they assure us it is lovely. We’re here for two days and Liz and I have decided to kick back a bit, look after necessities like laundry and focus on Hoi An’s delightful Old Town.
To say Old Town is the “real” Vietnam, as the brochures say, is a bit misleading. I don’t think designer handbags and souvenir T-shirts are the “real” Vietnam. It’s modern commerce in a historical setting. But Hoi An has been a trading hub for centuries, first with merchants from Japan, China, India and Arabia. European traders began to arrived in the 1500’s. Today over 800 buildings in the roughly half a square kilometer of Old Town are on the UNESCO World Heritage list. Cars are banned from the warren of narrow lanes, but of course scooters are ever present.
The range of goods for sale is mind-boggling, from silk lanterns to BBQ squid on a stick (squid-sicle?). However, the focus in Hoi An is on bespoke tailoring and leather goods. Other Asian regions have focused on cheap, mass produced items, but Hoi An has found it’s niche in producing quality, custom tailored clothes, shoes and other items at very reasonable prices.
We visited a tailor shop one evening, were measured, and chose the style and fabric for a jacket (Liz) and shirt (John). We returned for a fitting the next afternoon. The following morning a beautiful ice blue, silk blend jacket with Asian style collar and a light grey linen shirt were delivered to our hotel. The entire process took about 36 hours and the total cost was less than C$300.
Of course there’s more to Hoi An than shopping. We were only able to scratch the surface in the two days we had. It’s busy and crowded, like the rest of Vietnam, but there something more human here. Lantern lit boats float down the river in the evening. The alleys of Old town are an endlessly fascinating puzzle. And even the hard sell of the merchants has a certain playful charm. Of all the places we visited in Vietnam this is one to which we would definitely return.
Next it was off to Ho Chi Minh City, as Saigon was officially renamed when the war ended. But as far as I can tell the two names are used interchangeably. Hanoi may be the political and cultural center of Vietnam, but HCMC/Saigon is still its 24/7 beating heart. It’s one of those places that beggars any attempt at description: broad leafy avenues and narrow back alleys, crowded tenements and towers with multi-million dollar condo’s, and through it all an unending stream of scooters, cars, buses and trucks.
We are squired around the city to visit various landmarks – the former South Vietnamese Presidential Palace, now know as Independence Palace; a memorial for the Budhist monk, Thich Quang Duc, who immolated himself as a protest; the War Relics Museum; and the CIA building where the last US helicopter left Saigon among others. Only the Notre Dame Basilica Cathedral of Saigon is not directly related to the war, but it is shrouded in scaffolding, under renovation.
Vietnam has definitely prospered since the war, particularly in the last 30 years, but to say that they have moved on is not entirely true. Nowhere is this more evident than in the War Relics Museum. The grounds around the museum are filled with tanks, planes and other bits of military hardware. Like most such displays it strikes me as static, hollow and sanitized.
Inside the museum it is a different story. Photographs, videos and personal artifacts give the saga of the war a visceral intensity. One gallery focuses the anti-war movement in the US and around the world. Another looks at how “Agent Orange” continues to cause cancers and congenital birth defects to this day. The key role played by war journalists is examined in one gallery. Yet another documents atrocities committed by American and South Vietnamese troops. To be sure, there were war crimes aplenty committed by both sides in this ugly war, and as always, the victors write the history. However, though the material presented has been curated, it is not dogmatic. Like watching “Das Boot“, it is always eye opening to see things from the other side of the fence.
We took a trip outside the city to the Mekong delta. It was interesting and we did enjoy it, but as with a lot of our excursions we were constantly jammed between the tour group ahead of us and the one behind. It felt a bit like conveyor belt tourism. Our canoe ride on the narrow channels was jammed with boats, like Saigon traffic.
The next day we take a bus to visit the Cu Chi tunnels. One of several such complexes throughout the country, Cu Chi is a network of hand dug tunnels over 120 km long. The tunnels gave the Viet Cong shelter from American bombing, and the chance to either hide from, or ambush foot patrols. Trap doors in the jungle floor allowed the VC to pop up seemingly from nowhere. Explosive booby traps and pits lined with punji sticks awaited any allied soldier who dared enter the tunnels.
The tunnels provided living quarters, weapons and food caches, even hospitals. More importantly they allowed the VC to dictate the terms of battle. But life in the tunnels was no treat. Food, water and fresh air were always in short supply, and the tunnels were infested with scorpions, snakes and rats. Malaria was rampant and was second only to war wounds as a cause of death. The tunnels have been enlarged and reinforced to accommodate tourists, but I still had to crawl on my hands and knees. Lights have been installed, where before there was almost constant darkness. The tunnels are still claustrophobic and unwelcoming.
There is a shooting range beside the snack bar (incongruities abound). There, tourists can by a clip of ammo and fire an AK47 or other weapon of their choice. The sound of gunfire reverberates constantly through the thick jungle.It’s impossible to tell where it’s coming from. I’ve never liked guns and I find the sound particularly jarring in this context.
But after some reflection I realize it is the perfect sound track to this experience. Watching a movie is one thing, and I have thought frequently of films like Apocalypse Now and Full Metal Jacket. But actually walking these paths, crawling through the tunnels and being surrounded by the sound of gunfire, it’s not hard to imagine myself as a young GI, on patrol in the jungle, wondering if his next step will be his last.
Here’s the link to the Photo Gallery for this post.
Simply amazing!