Tuesday 26th December
After a lazy morning which included a luxurious lie-in, I ventured out into the sweltering heat around 09:00. I'm not sure when, where or how it started, but if I'm visiting somewhere new that happens to have a Hard Rock Café, I buy a t-shirt for Lewis (and now also for Will). I'd read that the one in Saigon was closed, but for the cost of a Grab bike (around £1.20) I went to see for myself. I could not even locate where it used to be. Possibly a massive hotel had since replaced it.
One of the must-do things in Saigon is the War Remnants Museum. It's ridiculously cheap to enter, and the main courtyard comprises a selection of captured tanks, guns (as in modern artillery, not rifles), a chinook helicopter, and even a jet. Close inspection of the chinook revealed quite extensive battle damage repairs, no doubt covering up multiple bullet strikes.
One of the must-do things in Saigon is the War Remnants Museum. It's ridiculously cheap to enter, and the main courtyard comprises a selection of captured tanks, guns (as in modern artillery, not rifles), a chinook helicopter, and even a jet. Close inspection of the chinook revealed quite extensive battle damage repairs, no doubt covering up multiple bullet strikes.
 Downed jet |  Captured tank |  Multiple patches to the chinook |
It's important to note that no aspect of the museum was intended (even to attempt to) glorify war in general, or gloat over the outcome of this one. There were multiple messages of hope, including bell of peace that a monk had created, crafted out of the shell of an unexploded bomb.
Bell of peace, crafted from an unexploded bomb
When we read about bombs of certain weights, (1000lb for example) it's often not possible to visualise exactly what these would look like, or understand just how bit (in terms of physical size) they would be. The War Remnants museum had a collection of bombs to give exactly such perspective.
 Bomb display |  5,000lb bomb |
I ventured inside to see the various displays, including one of simple, everyday objects that belonged to a host of "heroes". The information did often need to be taken with an open mind. It was often very easy to read the blatant propaganda in the various descriptions, but reading between the lines it was also easy to see that much of what was reported must also have been true. This was particularly true within the room dedicated to war crimes, which was particularly hard hitting. Some “confessions” came from US soldiers retrospective to events, including a senator Bob Kerrey, PFC Charles Gruver and Sgt Mag Charles West. Other names included Pfc Paul Meadlo and William Laws Calley. Even a brief Internet search upon my return confirmed (albeit in often much-watered-down versions) the basis of some unbelievably shocking crimes.
Plaque in the war crimes room, War Remnants Museum, Saigon
I read just about everything in the war crimes room. And whilst some of the images were horrific, they were absolutely nothing compared to those in the agent orange room. I only lasted a few moments in that room, and left.
On the second floor there was a display called “Requiem” - a collection of hundreds of photographs taken by war correspondents at the time - most (if not all) of whom were killed during the war. The images are stunning. A lot were awarded to photography prizes, or adorned the front of the likes of Times magazine. Some of the images were developed posthumously, from the very last role of film the photographer was using when they were killed.
Saturated with images and information, I had to leave before I could complete my tour of the Requiem room, just to give my eyes and brain a rest.
Downstairs, I was stopped by Vietnamese war veteran with two stumps for arms, one eye, and an artificial leg. Thinking he was begging (something I had admittedly not witnessed at all up until this point), I tried to hand him some casg. He didn’t just want to be given money though - he wanted to earn his living by selling me a book. In fact, he wanted to sell me three books, each of which looked fascinating, but: I only had a little cash on me; and I couldn’t physically fit three books in my luggage home. I bought one, The Tunnels of Chu Chi. It left me very low in cash for the day.
There are references to, and reminders of the war everywhere in Vietnam. In one way, that’s hardly surprising - the war itself lasted 20 years, though the American involvement in it was only (at least physically) for the last eight. But then it did end in 1975. That’s 48 years ago. The Second World War is only 30 years older, and thought it’s far from forgotten, we don’t (generally) have daily reminders of it.
Close to the museum was the "Water Puppet" theatre. Water puppetry apparently dates back hundreds of years, and this too was mentioned as one of the "must do" activities in Saigon. Unfortunately they were sold out for 26th. I did, however, realise that I would have time to squeeze in a showing for the following day, followed by a quick dash to the airport to catch my flight home, so I bought some advanced tickets.
To clear my head, I made my way to Tao Dan Park, which apparently comprises 10 hectares. Like many parks located in the centre of huge cities, this was an absolute sanctuary of peace and beauty. The trees towered overhead, and there were a host of paths that meandered and criss-crossed through the lawns. There were a few people running around the park, but given the heat and humidity, it was unsurprising that they were all going very slowly.
On the second floor there was a display called “Requiem” - a collection of hundreds of photographs taken by war correspondents at the time - most (if not all) of whom were killed during the war. The images are stunning. A lot were awarded to photography prizes, or adorned the front of the likes of Times magazine. Some of the images were developed posthumously, from the very last role of film the photographer was using when they were killed.
Saturated with images and information, I had to leave before I could complete my tour of the Requiem room, just to give my eyes and brain a rest.
Downstairs, I was stopped by Vietnamese war veteran with two stumps for arms, one eye, and an artificial leg. Thinking he was begging (something I had admittedly not witnessed at all up until this point), I tried to hand him some casg. He didn’t just want to be given money though - he wanted to earn his living by selling me a book. In fact, he wanted to sell me three books, each of which looked fascinating, but: I only had a little cash on me; and I couldn’t physically fit three books in my luggage home. I bought one, The Tunnels of Chu Chi. It left me very low in cash for the day.
There are references to, and reminders of the war everywhere in Vietnam. In one way, that’s hardly surprising - the war itself lasted 20 years, though the American involvement in it was only (at least physically) for the last eight. But then it did end in 1975. That’s 48 years ago. The Second World War is only 30 years older, and thought it’s far from forgotten, we don’t (generally) have daily reminders of it.
Close to the museum was the "Water Puppet" theatre. Water puppetry apparently dates back hundreds of years, and this too was mentioned as one of the "must do" activities in Saigon. Unfortunately they were sold out for 26th. I did, however, realise that I would have time to squeeze in a showing for the following day, followed by a quick dash to the airport to catch my flight home, so I bought some advanced tickets.
To clear my head, I made my way to Tao Dan Park, which apparently comprises 10 hectares. Like many parks located in the centre of huge cities, this was an absolute sanctuary of peace and beauty. The trees towered overhead, and there were a host of paths that meandered and criss-crossed through the lawns. There were a few people running around the park, but given the heat and humidity, it was unsurprising that they were all going very slowly.
Tao Dan Park
My next stop was a brief shopping spree in the market. There was a sign which stated that prices were fixed. This fact seemed to apply to the very outside stalls, but the further I ventured into the centre, the less true this appeared to be. "Yes, prices are fixed. But you can haggle," I was told.
The very centre was basically a food court, with a jumble of stalls and small shops selling a wide selection of food. I grabbed a Bánh Mì and a beer, and then set off to buy a few souvenirs as presents for the family.
If "fixed prices" that you can haggle over was not confusing enough, I found nearby "Walking Street" to be an even bigger oxymoron. Cars might be "banned", but every moped in Saigon still seems to pass through. Also, taxis don't apparently qualify as "cars". I think the closest I came to being run over in Vietnam was in walking street, a motorcyclist even saying “Even-ning” as he missed me by centimetres.
I was heading back to my apartment fairly early in the evening when I realised that tonight would be my last full night. I'd not had "a night out", and though I didn't venture out with that specific intention, I did decided to have another beer or two before going to bed. Some of the bars along this street cater to the real party-goer, and were only just beginning to warm up. Others were more aimed at the locals (and were hence half [or even less] the price for a beer). I tried a local place or two before I stopped at a place with a live band. They were on a break, so I didn't realise it was a rock band until they started up again. Connagh would have loved to have been there. The band wasn't fantastic, but live music is always a bit more fun.
The very centre was basically a food court, with a jumble of stalls and small shops selling a wide selection of food. I grabbed a Bánh Mì and a beer, and then set off to buy a few souvenirs as presents for the family.
If "fixed prices" that you can haggle over was not confusing enough, I found nearby "Walking Street" to be an even bigger oxymoron. Cars might be "banned", but every moped in Saigon still seems to pass through. Also, taxis don't apparently qualify as "cars". I think the closest I came to being run over in Vietnam was in walking street, a motorcyclist even saying “Even-ning” as he missed me by centimetres.
I was heading back to my apartment fairly early in the evening when I realised that tonight would be my last full night. I'd not had "a night out", and though I didn't venture out with that specific intention, I did decided to have another beer or two before going to bed. Some of the bars along this street cater to the real party-goer, and were only just beginning to warm up. Others were more aimed at the locals (and were hence half [or even less] the price for a beer). I tried a local place or two before I stopped at a place with a live band. They were on a break, so I didn't realise it was a rock band until they started up again. Connagh would have loved to have been there. The band wasn't fantastic, but live music is always a bit more fun.
| Unstoppable | Phantom of the Opera - rock-style |
After a short while a couple asked if they could sit at my table. There were four seats, and I was only occupying one of them, so of course I had no objection. The man soon introduced himself (with the loud music, it took me ages to catch his name) as Kelly. His wife was Lisa, and they were from Bristol. We quickly got on, and ended up buying a few rounds. They had just arrived in the country, so I gave them some recommendations, including the War Museum.
There were lots of traders doing business at night, selling lighters, fridge magnets, caps, as well as eating fire and other bizarre activities. Many of these traders had children, so they had little choice but to bring their kids with them whilst they worked. One little guy was round our table pretending to be a soldier (much like Vincent's boy, Roy, in Hoi An). I asked him to pose for a photo, and I paid him a few loose Dong (he was not at all slow to grab it and hand it to his mum). I turned the phone round and showed him how he looked, and after that he sat on my lap and spent five minutes flicking through the photos I'd taken whilst in his country.
There were lots of traders doing business at night, selling lighters, fridge magnets, caps, as well as eating fire and other bizarre activities. Many of these traders had children, so they had little choice but to bring their kids with them whilst they worked. One little guy was round our table pretending to be a soldier (much like Vincent's boy, Roy, in Hoi An). I asked him to pose for a photo, and I paid him a few loose Dong (he was not at all slow to grab it and hand it to his mum). I turned the phone round and showed him how he looked, and after that he sat on my lap and spent five minutes flicking through the photos I'd taken whilst in his country.
 Take your child to work |  Future soldier |
I'm not sure how it started, but suddenly some drinks arrived on our table. I thanked Kelly and Lisa, but they thought I'd ordered them. When a second round arrived shortly afterwards, we told the waiter there had been a mistake. He told us that the guy on a nearby table had bought them (and that he'd also bought the previous round). If I had been a film producer, and I'd said to a scout "find me the most suspicious-looking Vietnamese actor you can find", this guy would have undoubtedly been cast. I told Kelly and Lisa that I'd had enough to drink already, and that I was not comfortable with the situation. They agreed. We spoke to the guy and said a polite, "no thanks", and then we all went our own way. I have no idea why he was buying us drinks. Equally, I have no idea why he didn't explain why he was buying us drinks. I'll never know.
During my entire trip, this was the only time anything "possibly" dodgy had occurred. Overall, I felt incredibly safe throughout my time in Vietnam. Maybe my years in the military taught me to be a bit over-suspicious (and I had been drinking!). I just know I was far more comfortable once I'd left and arrived back safely into the apartment.
During my entire trip, this was the only time anything "possibly" dodgy had occurred. Overall, I felt incredibly safe throughout my time in Vietnam. Maybe my years in the military taught me to be a bit over-suspicious (and I had been drinking!). I just know I was far more comfortable once I'd left and arrived back safely into the apartment.
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