Solo to Saigon

Mar 19-28

With Mike's departure, I was left to my own devices. I decided to beat the heat and make my way to Vietnam's central highlands, specifically to a town called Dalat.

Because of it's elevation, 1475m, Dalat has been a retreat from the chaos and stifling heat of Saigon  since the arrival of the French in the early 1900s.

It is still a major draw for Vietnamese tourists today due to it's European flavour, and sprawling strawberry fields and flower gardens.

I would be using it as a base to recharge my party batteries and get some fresh, cool air before heading into Dante's inferno in the south of the country.

My first stop in Dalat was the out-of-this-world Hang Nga Crazy House. It is the audacious architectural work-in-progress (since 1990) of owner Mrs. Dang Viet Nga. It reminded me of a Vietnamese version of Barcelona's Antoni Gaudi, due to the organic appearance of the structure and the fact that it is continually being built upon year after year.

The crazy house contains nine different rooms, each with its own bizarre theme and animal moniker.

From here I just walked around the city and relished in the rare tranquility that was so refreshing in a country like Vietnam.

The following day I made my way to Lang Bian Mountain, the region's highest peak. Climbing up to 2167m seemed like the perfect way to enjoy the outdoors. This would have been far more enjoyable had I not lost one of my shoes in the undercarriage of the bus from Nha Trang, and now had to do this hike in flip flops.

After paying the small admission fee, I made my way to the road leading up the mountain. I thought it was hilarious how the Vietnamese took these little 4x4 jeeps up towards the summit. When I got to the road, my smug smile quickly melted into a frown: the road was so steep that as I was climbing up, my body was leaning at a near 45-degree angle. My calves and Achilles were screaming so badly by the time I finally got to the forest path, that I was glad I was alone so no one would have to listen to my bitching and moaning as I climbed slow step by slower step in my shitty flip flops.

Once I made it onto the grassy path, it stayed horizontal for around 5 minutes before becoming stone steps until the summit.

The view from the top was rather obstructed by clouds, but the absence of western tourists was far more rewarding than any view. I enjoyed taking some pictures with some Vietnamese students who were eager to practice their English with me.

The trip down was not nearly as long, but walking down a steep incline in shitty flip flops was just as arduous and uncomfortable as walking up.

The next day I took a 4-hour bus ride towards the next stop on my solo tour of southern Vietnam: Mui Ne. Mui Ne is known around the South for it's beautiful beach and as the adrenaline capital of coastal Vietnam, most notably for kite-surfing because of its strong, incessant winds.

I checked into the resident party hostel, Mui Ne Backpackers Resort Austria House, and proceeded to change into the requisite bro uniform of board shorts and a singlet.

I went to check out the beach but was quite surprised at the lack thereof: the tide was so high that barely any sand was to be seen, and there were just these slanted stone walls protruding from each resort. It wasn't nearly as nice of a beach as Nha Trang, but at least I didn't have to worry about speaking any Russian!

I joined a hostel-organized tour of the local sights, and to get to know some of my hostel mates. Our first stop was the infamous "Fairy Spring", a chocolate coloured river flowing through interesting rock formations and sand dunes.

For some geological reason that I can't explain, Mui Ne is also home to some pretty impressive red and white sand dunes, some of which could be seen from the Fairy Spring.

For some bizarre reason, they offered ostrich rides along the Fairy Spring, and other than increasing my travel cred and having a funny story to tell, I decided to pass.

Our next stop on this mini tour was Phan Tiet, a picturesque fishing harbor that graces the cover of my counterfeit Vietnam Lonely Planet.

Our final stop of the day was the aforementioned dunes that seemed to come out of nowhere. Some people rented 4-wheelers, others used ghetto magic carpets, and I just used the time to snap some pics and work on my already glorious tan.

Mui Ne gave a chance to enjoy some interesting geological aspects of Vietnam that I wasn't even aware of and as a transition between the sleepy feel of Dalat and the upcoming party storm that I knew awaited me upon reuniting with Mike. The only unfortunate part of Mui Ne, was leaving my conical hat under the bed in my hostel. I guess it wasn't meant to be.  

The bus ride further south to Saigon was far more enjoyable because I shared a seat next to a dutch giant named Stefan.

We arrived to Saigon in the late afternoon, the tranquil pace of Dalat and Mui Ne was quickly replaced by absolute chaos, and probably several million motorbikes worth of noise.

I checked in to my hostel and met up with Mike. He had experienced an epic series of evenings leading up to our reunification and the expectations were huge, because this was our only night together before he packed up and left again to explore Cambodia for a few days.

 (Photo Credit: Mike Risi)

We started off by going out for dinner at a massive outdoor restaurant and had plans to visit one of the most well-known bars in Saigon. Unfortunately we couldn’t find it. So instead, we ended up drinking Sweet Saigons (a sugar cane-based drink brilliantly named by Mike) on the street and doing a pub crawl with our crew consisting of Mike and myself as well as Stefan, Alex, Lucinda, Andre, Sam and Mel for this epic night.

 (Photo Credit: Alex Bell)

At the end of the night, we stumbled upon an Asian-style Karaoke bar where you get your own room and don’t have to sing in front of strangers. Which for a group of atrocious singers, proved to be a definite advantage. After an overly-enthusiastic rendition of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, we called it a night. A really epic one at that. 

 (Photo Credit: Alex Bell)

Saigon, which was the former capital of the Republic of Vietnam (aka the South of Vietnam) from 1956 to 1975, was renamed Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) after the north defeated the south in the Vietnamese War. Today it is known as HCMC for governmental purposes only and residents and tourists alike continue to refer to it as Saigon.

The love and admiration that northerners feel for uncle Ho is not shared by the southerners, and feelings of resentment can still be felt among the population, both young and old.

I decided to visit some of the city's museums to get a better understanding of this country's complex history. My first stop was Reunification Palace. Formerly the seat of the Southern Vietnamese government, this building now serves as a museum and time capsule of the 1960s and 70s.

My next stop was the War Remnants Museum. This should be an essential stop for anyone visiting Saigon, anyone for or against war, and just all of humanity in general. This museum shows the devastation this war wreaked on the population and illustrates the depths of which human depravity and chemical warfare can reach.

Not since the Rwandan Genocide Museum in Kigali have I cried so openly and deeply in public. In the section depicting the dead and mutilated from Agent Orange and Napalm, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. If there was, they were dead inside.

I regained my composure and walked around the neighbourhood, collecting my thoughts. I now understood why Montreal has such a huge Vietnamese diaspora. They were escaping hell.

My final stop on my solo tour of Vietnam was the Mekong Delta, Vietnam's most southern and humid region. Getting there was half the fun: starting in what looked like a heist-movie chop-shop in urban Saigon and ending up in literally the middle of nowhere.

I don't even know what little village I ended up in. The only thing I know is that I was staying in a wooden room next to a Vietnamese family's home who enjoyed singing Karaoke until the wee hours of the morning and who provided me with excellent and plentiful meals because I was the only westerner at their home-stay and in their entire village for that matter. 

I also had been given the use of probably the shittiest bike on earth and was given very vague instructions of how to visit the local sites and points of interest. I somehow ended up exploring a few small temples and churches, none of which warrant their pictures shared in this posting. 

I also took a small ferry ride to the next biggest town and enjoyed some delicious iced coffee at the edge of the delta's many tributaries. 

One thing that struck me about this village was despite its size, the amount of young people with visible physical deformities was disproportionately high. Was this the effects of Agent Orange trickling down through the generations? These kids were much younger than I was, and I was born 9 years after the war ended.    

The major touristic draw of the Mekong Delta region is to have a morning river cruise and visit the famed floating markets near Vinh Long. Since I was the only westerner in the whole region, I chartered a boat for myself.

It was very scenic and fascinating to see how the local people utilized the river in their daily lives. All tasks, from washing and bathing, food preparation, transportation and making their livelihoods were all intimately linked to the river. 

Our final destination was the Cai Be floating market in Vinh Long. Even though I was the only person on the boat and insisted that we be at the market for the most boisterous and photogenically appealing time of the day, the boat guide made sure that we missed that period by a few hours.

By the time we got there, a vast majority of the maritime fruit and vegetable sellers had already left. Don't get me wrong, it was still a beautiful sight and I don't regret visiting the more intimate regions of the delta, but the amateur photographer in me was left slightly disappointed. 

 However, after seeing all the deformed people happily going about their daily lives, and the atrocities witnessed by many people in this region, I should really shut my spoiled western mouth.