Front Beach

Vietnam’s richest city, Vung Tau is a bubble. Jutting out into the sea on a small peninsula, two hours south of Saigon, it feels somewhat detached from the rest of the country. Its wealth largely due to offshore oil rigs, it’s rapidly changing to become a trendy place for rich young Saigonese who throng the many new cafes and restaurants at the weekend. Even during my year here, it has changed;  there are a lot more cars on the roads and new buildings continue to spring up. Scooting around the coast on my motorbike during my last day in the city, part of me wonders if I’m mad to leave; if it wasn’t for the heat and my ignorance of the Vietnamese language (people often think I’m speaking English when my attempts go beyond basic words), I’d be tempted to stay. Life has been very comfortable for me here and I’m going to miss the freedom of the sea and small forested mountains on the peninsula, as well as the good friends I’ve made with ex-pat teachers and locals who I regularly hang out with in cafes and restaurants.

Recent arrivals in Vung Tau still looking for a place to live

Fisher folk

‘Sugar soup’ seller

Vung Tau has a sleazy reputation. The main strips along the two main beaches have many ‘girly bars’ who cater for the large offshore workforce when they return to land along with older (mainly Aussie) foreigners. One Scouse ex-pat I was chatting to in Saigon told me his lasting memory of Vung Tau was being chased down the street by a prostitute who was threatening to kill him. Luckily, this bares little resemblance to the city I know, which has generally been kind to me and I’m glad such a place exists where few backpackers come (despite being so close to Saigon, nearly all travelers pass it by on their way northwards).

Octopus at seafood market

Buddhist nuns

Big Jesus statue

For a long time, I found the Vietnamese very socially conservative and their attitude to foreigners completely bemusing. There are a lot of misconceptions. Perhaps such awkwardness is a manifestation of their difficult history which they’ve mainly put behind, or perhaps it’s more to do with my own reserved nature which doesn’t help to overcome the language barrier, or a combination of both. Being a bit withdrawn for the first few months I lived here, it took me a long time to make friends outside of the teacher’s circle. When I did, I was a lot happier at having connections to those who live here permanently. Van, was the only one of the teacher’s assistants I worked with who became a good friend and I also worked with her father (an English teacher) giving private lessons. Hà Giang, who owns a cafe around the corner from where I used to live, steadily became a close friend after frequenting her homely cafe. Their good company, humor, kindness and help when I needed it, made the past six so much more enjoyable than the previous six.

Van in the darkest (but one of the nicest) cafes in the city

Hidden ‘clock’ cafe

Hà Giang at her lovely cafe

The year has flown by. Constantly on the go, I never seemed to have enough time between work to properly relax and do the things I wanted, whether it be exercise, eating enough or reading/writing, although my social life has been healthy. It’s like I’ve been stuck in some strange time-warp between two wee mountains on a small peninsula and the oil-rigs and ships glimmering in the distance. It’s been strange, in a good way. My friend Lisa who recently visited me (having traveled all the way overland from England!) commented on how I drive as fearlessly as the locals through the motorbike mayhem. A year ago I told myself I was never going to ride a motorbike again (having had a minor accident years ago in Australia); it’s a place that has challenged me for the better. Despite the many frustrations, mainly with time not being my own, I know it’s the sort of place that’ll always hold fond memories. It may even draw me back one day and then I’ll realise it’s not quite how I remembered it. Vung Tau is one of the lesser-known gems of the new, confident, albeit more unequal and faster-paced Vietnam.

Leo, the dog next-door

The divil himself

View from one of the five places I stayed in the city during my year

On my way out of the country I stop in Saigon for a couple of nights. I don’t think I could ever live or work here; it’s too big, too busy, too polluted and too noisy. The only thing that could persuade me are the people whose company I enjoy. Two such locals are Thanh and Yen who I meet up with the night before I leave. I met them on a staff trip months ago (the company I worked for has centers across Vietnam) and have stayed in contact. It’s a pleasant farewell to this land and my mixed feelings about leaving continue as I get on the bus to leave. Next stop Cambodia.

Thanh and Yen

Lanterns in a Saigon street

Sword Lake, Hanoi

For nine months I’ve lived in the south of Vietnam so a trip to the north is long overdue. A brief window of opportunity to escape work only allows a flying visit of 5 days in Hanoi though, and I get the 2 hour flight with fellow-teachers Annie and Rowan. We land in what feels like a different country…and in terms of geography, culture, history, mentality, dialect and outlook it is completely separate to the lazier south. One of my Vietnamese friends in Vung Tau told me she’d never go to Hanoi because of their ways of thinking and what she perceives to be an unfriendly approach to outsiders. As a foreigner such distinctions thankfully pass me by but I notice that their dialect is sharper and more abrupt…the people here also feistier, having to live through more extreme conditions in terms of climate and poorer land. First impressions of Hanoi are that it is an infinitely more interesting place than Saigon, having a lot more character and charm than its sleazy-yet-dull consumer-driven southern cousin. We stay in the Old Quarter of the city, where the hustle and bustle of tourists and locals keep the narrow streets alive till the daily business curfew of 11pm.

Old Quarter

Annie and Rowan

Both Annie and Rowan have been to the north before, so they fill me in about the best bits of Hanoi. Rowan, a 25 year old from Scotland and Annie from Manchester, who’s a few years older than myself, make the perfect travel companions. I slowly became good friends with them while teaching in Vung Tau and I enjoy their company for the last time in Vietnam as both are due to return home within weeks. With only 5 days here, time goes very fast. Instead of trying to squeeze everything in, we mainly just take in the sights around the Old Quarter. One evening they take me to a prime spot on top of a massive 5 star hotel with panoramic view of the the city and the great West Lake. While they sip on cocktails, I treat myself to a bowl of potato wedges (a luxury in Vietnam) much to their amusement. On another day, we manage to go to the Ethnographic Museum, an impressive cultural centre exhibiting displays and information about Vietnam’s many ethnic minorities. Unsurprisingly, an exploration of the continuing impoverishment and human rights abuses suffered by these peoples as a result of government policy is absent from the museum. Despite their rights being enshrined in the constitution of the country, the reality for these peoples (comprising of over 50 separate ethnic groups with a population of over 10 million) is very different. The fact  that it’s a ‘museum’ speaks volumes about how indigenous culture is treated, as is the case for all indigenous peoples the world over, who have to content with state encroachment upon their native lands.

Map showing Ethnic minorities of Vietnam (the majority Viet people are represented by light green)

Over breakfast on the day before I leave Hanoi, Rowan discovers online that there are trains to Ninh Binh, a place we had considered driving to on rented motorbikes. It’s 8.40am and the train (one of only 2 a day) leaves at 9am. We quickly get ready and rush out the door and into a taxi, unsure if we’ll make it on time. We arrive at the train station at 8.55 but there’s a group of people faffing around the ticket counter, having a long discussion with the cashier. It’s either jump the line and pay for the tickets or miss the train. I choose the former option, grab the tickets and run to the platform where we make the train with a couple of minutes to spare. The journey through the hazy countryside goes fast and we arrive in Ninh Binh before noon. Ninh Binh, often dubbed ‘inland Ha Long bay’ for its green hills jutting out of the flat landscape, was once a capital of what was considered Vietnam. We take a boat ride, and a quick tour of some ancient imperial buildings before getting the train back in the late afternoon.

View from train to Ninh Binh

Ninh Binh station

Ninh Binh

dsaf

Back in Hanoi, everything seems rushed before I have to fly back to Saigon the next day. Even though this stint of travel is short, I feel slightly knackered and ponder how much more knackering it’d be had I come on my own. It leaves me with the feeling that I’d rather not spend too much time traveling alone when I leave in Vietnam in a couple of months. It also sinks in that I won’t see a fraction of what I hoped to see of the whole country despite living here for a year – there’s just too much to see and too little time. In a propaganda poster shop, I quickly sort through the posters, buying a few as souvenirs before rushing to jump in a taxi to the airport.

Propaganda poster in an Old Quarter poster shop

I am convinced that it is one of the most unjust wars that has ever been fought in the history of the world…It has put us against the self-determination of a vast majority of the Vietnamese people, and put us in the position of protecting a corrupt regime that is stacked against the poor.  Martin Luther King Jr.

• When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his suffering is spilling over. He does not need punishment; he needs help. That’s the message he is sending.
• To think in terms of either pessimism or optimism oversimplifies the truth. The problem is to see reality as it is.
• If you are truly present and know how to take care of the present moment as best you can, you are doing your best for the future already. Thích Nhất Hạnh, Influential Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk

Just 40 km from Ho Chi Minh City, and consisting of an underground network of 250 km, the Củ Chi tunnels were a vital part of the Vietnamese people’s resistance to the genocidal US war machine just 40 years ago. Over 10,000 locals lost their lives here as they and their impoverished comrades suffered through wave after wave of assault and aerial bombardment by the world’s best equipped army. Today, part of the tunnels are preserved as a memorial park where tourists can visit and get a sense of what life was like here under the hellish conditions. The perseverance and bravery of the peasants of this area and what they had to go through seems scarcely believable now. In a war over land (that’s what they were fighting for…the right to their own land and protection against the the cruel US-backed regime in Saigon), they used to have to come out of the tunnels at night under the cover of darkness to tend their crops. Their ideology was not simply ‘communist’, but one of survival as they tried to eek out a meagre living and defend their land using every means at their disposal, including hand-made weaponry, booby traps and camouflage. Their guerrilla tactics ensured that the US forces where bogged down in the South of Vietnam much longer than they expected to be. When you’ve lived in Vietnam for a while and witness the modest, gentle nature of the people here, you can’t help feel an immense admiration for what they’ve come through and their attitudes towards the recent past, which due to their total lack of bitterness, could almost be mistaken for indifference.

Củ Chi Tunnels

Photograph of female guerrilla fighter during the war, Củ Chi Tunnels

Cartridge shells at firing range, Củ Chi Tunnels

Even as a teenager I took an interest in the American war in Vietnam and since then I’ve read many books and watched documentaries detailing what happened and the real reasons behind the slaughter, but to wonder around the War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City and be reminded of what went on in those dark years is harrowing. The scale of the destruction and terror is laid out through photographs and exhibits showing different aspects of the War. It was a war of attrition where the Americans knew they couldn’t win by relying on the support of the people; the only way to win was by killing the people in the countryside (and in the cities of the North) in large enough numbers to ensure their resistance was futile. This inhuman and racist policy was directed from the top of the American military and political class and it went all the way down to the GIs whose regiments were directed to keep ‘kill counts’ of Viet Cong whereby the definition of who classified as VC was, “If it’s dead and it’s Vietnamese, it’s VC”. The widespread atrocities, napalm and agent orange usage on large swathes of Vietnam’s countryside destroying the natural habitat and the people whose lives depended upon it, the consequent birth defects (an estimated 500,000 children have been born with birth defects due to agent orange) which continue in large numbers today and the carpet bombing of North Vietnam’s population centres are all given attention in the museum. There’s also an exhibit of US soldiers and their suffering…which, alongside growing opposition in the US, ultimately led to the end of the war (by the late 60s, increasing numbers of GIs were refusing to fight in missions and many commanding officers were being killed by their own soldiers). After the Tet offensive, the war had become a toxic issue for US politicians and their propaganda failed to persuade most of the US population that the war was necessary or right.

On the ground floor of the museum there’s a more upbeat exhibit of anti-war protests from around the world and solidarity from other poor countries, as well as anti-imperial propaganda posters. I come away from the museum a bit overwhelmed by it all; by the sheer scale of what happened just a few decades ago in comparison to the near total absence of any obvious affects from the war on the parts of modern Vietnam I’ve seen. I’ve a few American friends who teach in Vung Tau and they’ve all told me they’ve never encountered any hostility from the local people. There is an understanding that what is past is past and the only direction to look is towards the future, along with the recognition that a people are separate from the actions of their government. It’s remarkable in a country that is so patriotic; the boggy-man of their current nationalism seems solely directed against China who continues to encroach on Vietnam’s maritime territory (the impression is that if China ever invaded, every man, woman and child would be prepared to give their lives to fight the Chinese). The reality of the American war seems lost somewhat…especially the unpaid $3.3 billion in repartitions promised by the US at the Paris Peace Accords in 1973.  There has never been an apology from the US government or one penny paid to the victims of this unnecessary war. The US is still causing carnage around the world in its pursuit of complete imperial domination and even as I write this now, its main client state in the Middle East (Israel) is terrorising and massacring innocent men, women and children in the Gaza strip; raining down bombs on civilian infrastructure just as its paymaster has been doing on defenceless populations for the past 60 years. All these decades later, the arrogant barbarity of US foreign policy is still in tact and is resorting to ever more elaborate means of propaganda to deceive the world that it is benign. The victims of these wars are ‘unpeople’, whose voices are never heard further afield than their own localities. One story that sticks in my mind from the Củ Chi tunnels is of a female fighter coming across three American soldiers in the forest. As she watched them from a distance she realised they were “just like us” as they smoked, read letters from back home and cried. She couldn’t bring herself to shoot them as was her duty and she was brought before a committee to determine whether she should be punished for her negligence. Her messenger  boy testified that she was an outstanding, brave guerrilla who had taken part in many successful missions and that this lapse was uncharacteristic and so she was let off with a warning. She was 17 and her messenger boy was 9 years old.

War Remnants Museum, Ho Chi Minh City

American fighter jet, War Remnants Museum

A few weeks later, back in Vung Tau, there’s a buddhist festival within walking distance of my house. The chilled atmosphere, free vegetarian food and smiley faces transform this part of town into a special place to relax that evening. Buddhism is an integral part of the culture in much of Vietnam and it’s perhaps in no small part because of this that the people here know how to move on and have a certain calm acceptance of the way things are. The trauma of the war is gone. There is only here and now.

Local Buddhist festival in Vung Tau

For the first time this year I escape the increasing humidity and island mentality of Vung Tau and get a bus north to the bustling yet relaxed holiday town of Da Lat in the mountains. Though the climate is cooler, the locals are warmer here and more receptive to foreigners. While sitting by the lake on my first evening, I’m approached by three young women who study in Da Lat and they happily chat away to me and take pictures. One of them, Sam, is an English student and budding tour guide. She agrees to take me on her motorbike to see the surrounding areas and so the next day I go with her and her friend Tao to take in some of the sights.

Lake outside Da Lat

Passing local

Sam and Tao

‘Bonsais’ at local temple

Monk

Woman in traditional dress posing for a photo-shoot

The Central Highlands are traditionally home to many ethnic minority groups and many still speak their own languages, although a large section of such groups have been ‘Vietnamised’ in the last few decades. We travel to one ‘ethnic’ village where the people look visibly different than their Vietnamese neighbours and meet some of the locals who run a Coffee cooperative composed of 50 families. This area grows a lot of coffee and other crops that don’t grow in the lowland plains and is an important source of produce for the rest of the country.

Vegetable gardens outside the village

Coffee beans drying in the sun

A Lat village

With only two full days to enjoy Da Lat, I wish I’d more time to relax here and explore more of this beautiful area – there’s so much to see but I have to return to Vung Tau to work. Before leaving I see a few more local attractions including ‘The Crazy House’, a Gaudi-esque structure designed by a Vietnamese architect, and the famous Da Lat Flower Gardens. I already miss the place and tell myself I’ll have to visit again before leaving the country.

‘The Crazy House’

Sam at Da Lat Flower Garden

Back in Vung Tau, life plods along but during my free time I manage a few mini-trips out of the city on my scooter with a couple of fellow-teachers, Marty and Adam. A compatriot, Marty has become a good friend since moving here; from Newcastle, Co.Down, he and his family (his wife Leah from Germany and their 2-year old son Caolan), have been living in Vung Tau for almost 2 years. Adam, a talented freelance photographer from Alabama in the USA, has also been here for a couple of years and has immersed himself in the Vietnamese culture. On one trip we wonder up the narrow tracks of a small forested mountain to come across an isolated temple. The folk there are pleasantly surprised to see us and welcome us by giving us a delicious vegetarian lunch and allow us to lounge around in hammocks afterwards. It feels like a world away from the world-weary city nearby.

Marty at local temple

On another trip we go 30km up the coast to Long Hai where the pace of life is also more laid back. The best thing about living in Vung Tau is that there are many such places within driving distance and it does the soul good to get away from what has unfortunately become an often mundane routine of work-home-work within the city. It’s places such as Long Hai that I look forward to visiting repeatedly during my time here.

Fisher-folk up the coast from Vung Tau, bringing in the catch

Marty and Caolan on the beach at Long Hai

Adam taking snaps

Sunset with Vung Tau in the distance