The journey to Vietnam was not without trepidation. Each time I planned to go, the guidebooks painting a very discouraging picture about harassment of tourists, problems with Visa and even banning the Lonely Planet guide in 1996. This year began in a similar search for a destination that had several World Heritage Sites. Vietnam has 4 of them and the guidebooks had changed their tune acknowledging the newly acquired friendliness of the officialdom towards tourists. They too need the dollars to prop up their regime.  I was good to go but where and how. A few days of talking to travel agents, reading the guidebooks and digesting the material by UNESCO; I had a plan.  I was going to stay away from the crowded metropolis of Saigon otherwise known as Ho Chi Minh City and hit the middle of the country to see Hue, Hoi An and wind my way up to Halong Bay. 

        I landed at Danang (Vietnam War Fame) and was promptly handed a Visa in 5 minutes and greeted by a driver with my name on the signboard.  I enquired about getting some local currency at a bank and he just smiled. I figured he knew no English and I was not about to open my phrase book. He smiled pleasantly enough and said,” We go to Hue.” He had the destination correct. That was a good start. I settled into the back seat of a Honda driven towards Hue. The journey is over 4 hours on a bumpy road that meandered through the endless city. I soon felt the third worldliness of my surroundings; dusty streets with small shops, numerous bicycles and motorbikes. Small shops lined the street as we drove slowly towards the Highway. We had stepped out of the city and both sides of the road were lined by the brilliant green of rice fields. Then a mountain in the foreground. The driver turned towards me and pointed, “Haiphong” mountain. A drizzle began and soon fog surrounded the car reducing the visibility to a few hundred yards obscuring the tropical beauty of the lush forest that I only saw on my return trip. I settled in a quiet solitude gently rocked by the slow moving car. I turned on my CD Player and Louis Armstrong’s voice transported me to a bygone era.  

      My reverie was broken by our arrival in the city of Hue. The Huong Giang Hotel is on the bank of Perfume River. I managed to negotiate a room with a view of the river from the 3rd floor for another  $10.00/night and began to inspect my surroundings. The hotel’s entrance and dining room provided the look of an ancient Chinese room. I walked on further and found myself witnessing an elaborate ceremony with the participants in regal costumes being serenaded by a live band with ancient looking instruments that produce that whining sound peculiar to Chinese classical tradition. The most attractive feature were the two young girls who sang alternately. They wore a very feminine, graceful, colorful outfit that I later came to know as Ao Dai. I asked permission and they graciously permitted me to film the ceremony. My visit had begun auspiciously enough. 

      The Chinese influence was to reoccur throughout my tour. Vietnam was ruled by Chinese for a 1000 years. An indelible print has been left by the conquerors that makes it difficult to separate Vietnamese from Chinese. The traditions, language and customs of this country carry the influence of the two outsized nations: India and China. Indian influence is seen in the strands of Budhism and Hinduism mixed over the centuries as the main religious influence. Later I was to see the ruins of Champa Kingdom in My Son (meeson). The traditions and the language have borrowed heavily from the Chinese. Their language is in Latin alphabets. It was invented by a French priest in 1627 and used after WWI. Even though the alphabets are familiar enough the accent marks and the words were totally incomprehensible to me. The serious lack of English language books and newspapers made it even harder to understand what is going on in the country. The communist apparatus censures the media and TV so there is no way to know what is going on in the country. My trips to the few book stores produced no information and I ended up relying on the Lonely Planet and a recent book “Shadows and Wind”  by Templer to get acquainted. People are not forthcoming about their feelings about the system they live in till you ask about the family. That is when the sadness surfaces and their hard, grim lives become all the more obvious. Then silence and you are left to wonder about the pain these people have endured for centuries under Chinese, French, Japanese, the American war and now the communists. A travel guide put a brave face on the situation stating, “we are on the first rung of the ladder of progress. We are patient people.” 

            I am a tourist here, let me get on with touring the Imperial Vietnam. Hue was the capital of the few Vietnamese dynasties that managed to wrest control of the country in the 17th  century. The rulers built a city called the Citadel in Hue complete with the “Forbidden City”. Little is left after the war but enough to whet one’s appetite. The recent renovations of some buildings reveal once ornate decorations in Gold, yellow and red. The painted Hall of Harmony and the Mandarin’s hall point to the once upon a time Royal residences. The Mandarin’s were schooled extensively in a Confucian school and account for the literary tradition and intellectual skill of the modern day Vietnamese. I toured the Citadel on Pedi Cab driver who offered me a plastic coverall on a rainy day. It was noon and I still had a good deal more to see of the Royal Tombs and temples. I figured I should get a car for rest of the day. I was able to rent a car for the princely sum of $30.00 complete with a driver who despite instructions to the contrary took me on his own tour. It turned out that if I had followed my own idea according to Lonely Planet I would have missed some of the great monuments built by the Vietnamese Kings. I liked in particular the Khai Dinh tomb that sits majestically on a hilltop commanding the view of surrounding area. Inside this temple built in the 20th century sits a young king on a throne on his tomb. The colorful work in plaster and stone is remarkably ancient looking even though it is less than a hundred years old. The Tu Duc tomb and Minh Manh pagoda were not as impressive as the guidebooks claimed. I was left with a feeling that I was looking at second hand Chinese display that attempted but never quite mastered the brilliance of Chinese. 

       Next day, I was arrived at Hoi An after another 5 hour drive. The drive was unique for an instance that can happen anywhere but its unique Vietnamese character makes it stand out. Three hours into the drive, I had to go to a toilet. I opened my phrase book, found the word toilet and showed it to me driver. He nodded knowingly and kept driving. I figured he was looking for a better place. Ten minutes later, he pulled out a business card out of his pocket and handed it to me. The card had the following written on it, “ If you would like to go to Toilet, I can take you to a marble factory. You can see it and use the toilet.” I nodded agreement and was soon transported to the Marble factory complete with a toilet and the touristy carvings of happy Buddha's, Hindu Gods and feline looking damsels and fountains. I browsed and found my way to toilet and then managed to avoid the pursuing sales girl as a tourist bus drove in for a stop. Toilets are rare in Vietnam and if you find one use it or grit your teeth and bear it. 

              Hoi An is a gem of a city. I could spend a week or a month just loitering about the tightly knit village with its ancient houses that were built by Chinese, Japanese and European traders. You can hire a bike for a dollar a day, drink beer for another dollar and internet for $2.00/hour take rolls of pictures and enjoy their delicious cuisine. Food is impeccable in Vietnam especially in the small towns of Hue and Hoi An. I did not have a bad meal till I got to Hanoi. Almost every meal is perfection in the way the sauces are made its mildly spicy nature make it a good enough reason to live there. My meals rarely cost me more than $3.00 and I was being fed like a king. The stand outs are Fried Wontons(Like tortilla chips with chicken, fish, tomatoes, onions in a delicious sauce) and Cau Lau(Noodle soup). I rented a bike from the girl in front of the hotel and headed off for a tour of the city. It is small enough to be walked form end to end with houses passed down the generations kept impeccably. Most of the city is a UNESCO site. Sure enough it is a haven for backpackers from around the world. I heard Japanese, French and Australian English in the numerous roadside cafes and restaurants. Most of my photographs are from Hoi An. 

       Next day I took a boat ride to see My Son. The ruins of Champa Kingdom have little left to see. Most of it was destroyed in the war. The Viet Cong had a habit of hiding in the ruins in the jungle. The ensuing bombardment ruined the once magnificent Hindu temples. I could have missed the day trip and missed little. The ruins have little left to decipher as the tourist’s eyes vainly struggle to find what it is they are supposed to see. The lingering lovers however make a nuisance of themselves as they stare the stones blocking my view of the pictures. I was delighted to be given a quick ride back on an ancient American jeep for a 555 cigarette. You want to make friends with Vietnamese; take along a carton of British 555 cigarettes! 

            I would rather have stayed on in the cute little town. The boat ride back introduced me to German tourists who suggested I should not miss Halong Bay. The town market is a veritable paradise for a photographer. The sellers complete with the conical hats and the usual smells of fresh cooked food, rotting vegetables on the ground and calls of  “you buy something from me” makes for an interesting sight for the eyes and nose. 

             The flight to Hanoi was uneventful on a Vietnam Airlines plane. Hanoi is a metropolis that is crowded, dusty and always grey with an overcast sky. I had little intention of spending time there except for a visit to Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. The mausoleum is a grayish concrete monstrosity designed by the Russians to house the body of “Uncle Ho”. A long line of tourists is brusquely ordered by the young Military policemen to maintain proper decorum and walk in silence. You are ordered to take off your hat, not to talk or hold your hands behind your back. You walk single file around the body of a small peasant like man enclosed in a glass cage with 4 guards in 4 corners in perfect stillness. Later my guide informed me that he is one of the 4 people in such state. Others are Lenin, Dmitrov and Mao. He stated that Mao’s body now has a bad smell and they no longer ship Ho’s body to Russia for maintenance. He could not understand why they had buried Stalin and why they were taking down the statues of Lenin. Lenin still stands in a park in Hanoi with one hand out stretched and another in his pocket. That prompted some to say, Lenin is saying, “Catch that thief” while clutching his wallet in his pocket. Whatever accounts for the fame of Ho; a letter from him in 1941,

 “ France has been lost to Germans. French strength here has dissipated, yet they still raise our taxes to loot us, still they mount white terror against our people. In foreign dealing they hold their breath fearfully, giving some land to Siam, kneeling down in surrender to Japan. Meanwhile our people have to wear two yokes, continuing to serve as buffalo and horse for the French but now also being slaves to the Japanese.

In such painful tormenting conditions shall we simply fold our arms and wait to die? No, absolutely not! More than 20 million descendants of Lac and Hong are determined not to be perpetual slaves without a country.” 

              Halong Bay is 200 Km. From Hanoi, that is a 4 hour drive. It was raining and I was glum not welcoming the idea that there may be little to see in the fog. The guide said we will also visit some caves. I said to myself, “Why would I want to see the insides of a dark cave?” I had already paid for the trip and they don’t do refunds. So I figured, might as well go. We arrived at the Bay and a chartered private boat slowly tugged towards a rock in the bay. The guide led me up a 130 stairs to an opening behind some trees. My jaw fell open at the sight. I was informed that the cave was discovered accidentally in 1994 by a fisherman seeking refuge in heavy rain. I was in a fantasmogoric world of a cathedral like ceiling in the cave lit brilliantly by colored lights. I was in “Heaven (that is the name).” The myriad shapes have led to many stories and legends. The stories are about a dragon who lived with his fairy wives and children. He and the fairies left when humans came. I was told of the various shapes carved by nature represented Romeo and Juliet here, Einstein taking a leak there and a loin looking out over there. The immense caves and the fantastic shapes can lend themselves to one’s imagination taking leaps. I looked for Marilyn Monroe. I guess she did not make it.  Not to be found, I was told one dark corner was “Hell.” Since it was unlit and under the management of UN I figured I will wait for another trip till a new management takes over.  

              The seafood lunch was duly served on the boat and we meandered through the rocks jutting out of the emerald bay in a foggy world where mysterious beings reside. A slow boat ride and we were back on the shore as I looked back longingly at the Heaven inside a mountain. 

             My lingering memories of the trip are the lush green rice fields with old women hauling baskets on the shoulders wearing those conical hats, fading and crumbling ruins of a once great past in the tombs and pagodas, muddy rivers and young girls riding bikes to school in white Ao Dais….and I am sitting at a road side café in Hoi An sipping beer listening to Louis Armstrong…”some get a kick out of cocaine…..I get a kick out of you….”