North By Rail

Train seemed the best option for our big move north, it was the cheapest, most convenient was to travel. In total it cost us about 3 million dong for our luggage and 2 first class tickets. That probably equates to about $A200. Train travel seemed to have lots of things going for it. We could take our large volume of luggage, the motorbike could be transported with ease, the view promised to be spectacular and, after a few harrowing weeks of preparation, the time should be relaxing. While we delighted in the thought of the gentle movement of the train lulling us to sleep, I was extremely cautious about the conveniences. And my concerns were well founded. Squat toilet.... on a moving train.... a 30 hour journey.... about 30 people, plus staff, I will leave the rest to your imagination. There was a western style toilet as well, but for some reason that was locked for half the journey. I didn't eat or drink much.
Our cabin was really quite reasonable. Luckily we had the four berth to ourselves for all but about 4 hour of the trip, so we could spread out. The cabin was air-conditioned and the large window gave us a good view of the countryside as it rolled by. The scenery didn't let us down although the coastal stretch was hindered by light rain and photos hard to get without power lines strung across the middle. We were lucky, we had reasonable comfort, an cool cabin and soft bed. Standards dropped away with ticket price, down to a hard sleeper which was a plank bed, next a soft seat, then a hard seat. So we had nothing to complain about.
The countryside was so green, paddy fields a vibrant colour dotted with workers bent over intent on task. Water buffalo stood there as though placed to make the scene more authentic. There was a lot of water around, flooding from recent rains as well as that which had been chanelled for the rice crop. Narrow dirt paths led from one hut to another and children could be seen bicycling home from school at midday. The yards in front of the houses were concrete and grains would be spread out to dry in the sun. Chickens would peck around and an old women could be seen squatting, a scalf wrapped around her head. Children were held up to watch the train go by and encouraged to wave. Washing was hung, poked into the cyclone wire fence to catch the breeze. It all looked like a simple life, but a hard one. Water carried in a bucket from the huge ceramic pot at the side of the house, washing done while squatting at a large plastic bowl on the ground.
We moved past it all, countryside giving way to cities. In some places, it was as though tunnels had been left between the houses for the train to pass, walls so close to the track you could almost touch them. There was a feeling of intrusion through open windows into someones world. At the station the train would stop for no longer that half an hour. Stalls set up along the station had things to tempt, either foods or trinkets to remind you of the trip. All hoping to catch a few tourist dollars. We rolled on, cities giving way to countryside, day turning to night and that gentle rocking motion to put us to sleep.
Before the sun was up, there was a knock on the door and we were on the doorstep of Hanoi. The train slowed and crept into the centre of the city, quiet so as not to wake anyone. But lights were on, people already in the streets as Hanoi started another day. Manually operated boomgates held the motorbikes back from the track as we went through the crossings. Eventually we were there. Evereyone scurried for the doors, keen to be out of the confined spaces. We ferried our belongings off the train and onto a trolley waiting on the platform. Down the steps of the train and onto another stage of our adventure here in Vietnam.

See Ya Saigon Hello Hanoi

It seemed to take forever to plan once the decision was made. To move a household from one end of the country to the other is probably easier if firstly you speak the language. We got over that with a little help from our friends. The second advantage was having struck up a friendship with a guy who happens to be in a senior position with the railways. We called in all favours and made life a little easier for ourselves.
Of course before we could start our journey we had to pack the house up. We sold off some things, gave away others and thought we had reduced the amount of gear we had to move. That was, until it came to fitting it into suitcases. Two cases became four, four became six, and that was just our check-in. We then carried a jumble of about eight bags, pillows (for comfort on the journey) laptop bags and camera cases. What a sight arriving at the station.
As we packed, we shifted things down a level in the house, leaving rooms vacant and ready for the new occupants. Eventually it was all assembled in the lounge room, a year of our life in boxes. Surprisingly we managed to get it all into one taxi and get it to the station the day before our departure, so that it could be taken to Hanoi and be ready for us to collect when we arrived.
With the packing and cleaning all taken care of, we continued the social rounds of farewell dinners. Saying goodbye was an intoxicating event, a meal here, a few drinks there. But really the world is a small place and we are only a short flight away. We had our last drinks at The Sheraton, watching the sun set over The Rex. This was one of the first stunning views we had seen of Saigon so it was only fitting that it was one of the last.

The Sun Sets on Saigon

Sign of the Times

Last weekend we had a delightful time with a group of our young Vietnamese friends.
Quan is a very friendly guy whom we first met at a restaurant, he was our waiter. His thirst for expanding his English has powered a friendship that we cherish. It was with a group of his friends, three young girls also learning English, that we spent our evening.
We started with the girls, arriving later, joining in our game of Scrabble. I might say, considering they had never sighted the game before and English is their new language, they had quite a store of words to put down. Of course, we won but they weren't far behind.
Quan, knowing that James likes wine, gave us a gift. It was a sort of DIY wine vat. A big ceramic pot carried in a woven basket. We had to add water to the pot which contained a substance that looked like sphagnum moss. This had to sit for about 20 minutes to ferment before we ceremoniously carried it into the lounge and placed it on the coffee table. Four bamboo straws pierced the plastic covering and we all took a sip. It tasted a little like port, rather raw, but heck, it was only 20 minutes. We looked like a group of hippies sitting around a communal pipe and sharing the fun.
Pizza arrived, again a new experience for the girls. They were very worried that it would make them fat but seemed to enjoy every bit. I gave them knives and forks but they didn't know how to use them. We talked and laughed into the night, the conversation disjointed at times and bizarre answers given to simple questions but a great night had by all. Especially Quan who, after three drinks, ended up asleep from too much alcohol.
Ha, one of the girls was off to New Zealand the following Thursday to commence a course in hospitality. When I asked her what time her flight was, she said she hadn't booked it yet, her plan was to do that on Tuesday. She was shocked when I said she may not get a flight at such short notice. "But why" was her response.
The naivety of these young people set me to thinking. The young people here embrace the Western way of life, they try to imitate it in most of the things they do. I guess young people are the same everywhere, influenced by their peers and fashion. There are those who are very modern in their dress. They wear the low rider jeans but modesty prevails and there is no belly button hanging out. T-shirts seem to be longer, just so that they meet the jeans. I have seen the Vietnamese equivalent to Emo (I think that's how you spell it) The advantage being, they don't have to dye their hair. But there are those who do dye their hair, the Vietnamese attempt at bleached blonde is not good. They congregate in groups, hang out in coffee shops, manage to terrorize traffic with three on a push bike, but deep down they are all still nice kids.
Fashion plays a bit part in trying to emulate the western world. I wish I was quick enough with my camera to capture some of the things I've seen. But somewhere out there is an enterprising non-English speaking Vietnamese person, printing slogans onto clothing. Some of the ones that have made me smile have been...
Slippery Slope...not good on a pretty young Viet girl.
Below Freezing Wear...on a jacket, but when does it get below freezing here.
Demilitarized Zone...I should hope so.
Peace, Love, Greed...pick the odd one out.
Fucing....thank heaven they can't spell.
Armani Exchange It Here...now, if I had Armani, I wouldn't exchange it.
It's All Mine, Want Some...inappropriately on a little girl's T-shirt.
I wish I could remember them all. It is a use of a language that can't be understood by many, but it is English, something they all aspire to.
I have to think, what is it they all want. Is it to be out in the Western world, to fit in with what capitalism heralds as the greatest, or is it to make it easier to abandon the one they have. Whatever it is, it gives me a good giggle.

Sleep