History
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We Have To Mention The War
“Everybody has heard of the Vietnam War, right?” asks Mickie the tour guide as the minibus heads towards the tunnels. “Well”, he continues, “let me tell you there is no such thing. My country has a history of a thousand years of war. After World War 2 we have the Indochina War, the French War, and then, the one you call the Vietnam War”, he pauses for effect, “we call the American War, not the Vietnam War. I hope before you leave Vietnam, you will understand more about the American War”. Mickie is impassioned, proud of his country, and – like every single Vietnamese – from a family devastated by…
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On To Saigon Or Whatever It’s Called
Day 35 of this trip and we cop out for the first time. Up until tonight it’s been local food all the way….Indian, Nepalese and Vietnamese dishes, local specialities, street food, even a frog on a stick for God’s sake. But Can Tho is different: the restaurants aren’t quite as inviting, the atmosphere is less accessible, and the street food we’ve tried is unpopular with locals and close to inedible. So we cop out and find an “ordinary” restaurant, The Lighthouse, which, perish the thought, does steaks and stuff. For the first time since we entered the country, we eat some non-Vietnamese food: Michaela’s is a French dish, mine Belgian.…
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Down To The Delta: Markets On The Mekong
We seem to get from Da Nang to Can Tho in the blink of an eye, via a domestic flight which leaves on time and arrives early followed by a taxi driver with Formula 1 aspirations. Our base in Can Tho is in the Ninh Kieu district, close to the quay of the same name, and as we take our first stroll and look out across the water, there is a serenity which we think is like a Spanish siesta, but will come to realise later that it is something else entirely. The mighty Mekong River travels some 3,050 miles from its source high on the Tibetan Plateau down to…
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Hot Days & Warm Hearts: A Week In Hoi An
The advice we’ve been given is that, when it comes to visiting the My Son Sanctuary, we have two choices: go in the morning when the coach parties are doing the rounds and visitor numbers are high, or risk coping with the intense heat of the afternoon when we’ll more or less have the place to ourselves. Seeing as we are one half of the “mad dogs and Englishmen” couplet we opt, of course, for the quieter, hotter alternative. As it happens, temperatures have raced up the scale since we’ve been in Hoi An and at the same time someone has adjusted the humidity setting so that T-shirts last about…
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To Hoi An: The Land Of Lanterns
And so we head to Hoi An, a place about which we have heard so many good things that this will be our longest stay in one place whilst in Vietnam, a full six days. Our original intention was to go by train from Hue to Da Nang and then taxi to Hoi An, but we got chatting to a guy in a cafe on the first morning in Hue who told us he can book a bus which will take us door to door for half the price of the taxi alone. Bargain. Bargain? Well, yes, but boy does the journey bring surprises. Sure enough, we get picked up…
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Tam Coc to Hue: Inside The Imperial City
The climb to the dual peaks of Hang Mua is a hefty ascent of over 500 steps which are so irregular and uneven that coming back down is almost as tricky as going up, but the magnificent views from the top make every bit of the effort worthwhile. Sweeping panoramas across the lush green paddy fields, towering karst limestone hulks and twisting rivers lead the eye eventually to the urban sprawl of Ninh Binh city. These views hammer home just how much water there is here: villages are islands and roads are causeways. At Hang Mua, gardens have been laid at the foot of the hills and a few cafes…
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The Chaos And Joys Of Delhi
It feels good to get the backpacks unpacked as we settle back into Delhi – the first time we’ve been able to unpack in the ten days since we left England. Coupled with the sense of freedom now that we are once again independent after the confines of the Buddha Train experience, it feels positively liberating to wander out into the lively streets around Connaught Place. Gulping a first beer in eight days feels pretty good too. Even if it is Kingfisher. After majoring in Buddhism, touching on Hinduism at the Aarti in Varanasi and Islam at the Taj Mahal, our first port of call back in Delhi is the…
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Completing The Buddha Circuit: Balrampur-Sravasti-Taj Mahal
We awake on Day 7 of this 8-day tour with our train silent and stationary at Balrampur station, the sky grey outside and the early morning cup of chai clanking its way down the corridor. Amongst the Punctual group we have bets on how much we’ll miss the 6.30am departure time by: Lovely Malaysian Lady wins with a punt at 7:05 which proves to be out by just one minute. Thirty four minutes late. Here we go again. Of course we have some very decent people with us on this train as well as those who have surprised us with their behaviour: Malaysian Lady and Pretty Girl are just two…
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Birth, Death & Border Horrors: In And Out Of Nepal
The wheels of the Buddha train are still rolling as we finish breakfast and wander back to our compartment: evidently there has been some sort of delay overnight and we finally trundle into Nautanwa station about two hours behind schedule. Nautanwa is the end of India’s railway line, the border with Nepal just a few miles away. In spite of the extra two hours to prepare, and in spite of strict instructions to disembark quickly, about ten of the Dawdlers are late, and finally – finally, after 30 minutes waiting on the coach – Little Miss Selfie, the most incorrigible of the Dawdle group, bowls up as if it’s all…
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Absent Karma On The Buddha Train
The culture shock of India is nowhere near as powerful second time around, it’s that first time in the country which really knocks you sideways and shifts your understanding of what constitutes normality. This being our second time, we knew what to expect. Indian cities are cacophonously noisy, an endlessly discordant soundtrack of car horns, motor bikes, revving engines and raised voices. While the ears get battered, the assault on the eyes comes from the constant chaos and manic overcrowding, but the sense of smell suffers at least as much as any other part, so much so that just inhaling is an occupation fraught with danger. Never mind the putrid…
