|
Vietnam… continued  “Vietnamese kids demonstrate how to reduce carbon emissions while having fun”
As a traveler in Vietnam it's important to understand that driving is done with the horn. The Vietnamese are crazy about their horns but when the time comes to let rip there is a precise and complicated etiquette of rules. Honk your horn only under the following circumstances; 1 When anything blocks the road. 2 When anything doesn't. 3 When anything might. 4 At red lights. 5 At green lights. 6 At all other times. Almost 200 km's north west of Hanoi the sea paints the horizon blue while seagulls hover overhead and a chorus of horns salutes my arrival in a fanfare of triumph. Besides marking a major milestone on my tour Halong Bay is also a world heritage site and, in many peoples minds the natural wonder of Vietnam. Picture three thousand sparsely forested Islands punctuated with caves rising up from the deep blue. As I near the coast the falling sun paints them a golden hue and by the time I find a room they're swallowed in darkness and forgotten for one more night.  “Just one of the three thousand Islands that populate Halong Bay”
As a solo cyclist it really doesn't matter the quality of accommodation and by now it seems I've developed a nose for the cheapest. Down a back alley adjoining Halong Bays promenade I follow a narrow alley toward a neon lit sign attached to a tall and narrow mock Grecian monstrosity. The nicotine stained walls on the interior of my room appear to be breathing and sweating. A hole in the floor toilet gargles like the last gasp of a dying man while the dust lining every surface may well be the dead skin cells of ten thousand previous visitors. But after almost 100 km's on the road it's nothing short of luxury. Dusting the dead cells from my pillow the landlord's son knocks on my door and invites me to have dinner with the family. The son, in his mid twenties works at a 4 star hotel in town; his sister feeds the baby while their father holds court. Struggling with chop sticks I manage to flick a fish onto the father's plate. He laughs, fills up my glass with beer and asks me to try some specially prepared red meat. "Sure" I reply before shoveling it down my gob. "What is it?" "Dog meat," reply's the son.
Streams of Vietnamese holiday makers are out on the town as I cycle down the promenade in search of a beer (and to beg forgiveness from the Dog of Gods). Beer Aloi is one of Vietnam's most popular beers. This ice cold draft will cut through the thirst and set the tail wagging so when three Aussies (a couple and their friend) come to sit at the table adjoining mine I'm pleased for the company. That is, until they open their mouths. The girl complains that there are too many Vietnamese in Halong Bay. A slightly odd comment seeing as we're in Vietnam. Then her boyfriend, an irascible hot head who twitches and grimaces compulsively complains that there's no western food. That's because we're in Vietnam, I tell him whilst returning the grimace. This sets his girlfriend off on a litany of complaints about how they're always being ripped off. Her voice grows louder as she works her way down a list that she must have practiced and repeated a hundred times. The high wall of her forehead seems to blend in with her chin. A blunter cast of features I've never seen. Indeed as the torrent continues I begin to think it a mercy she has any features at all, so blank and high is the dead wall of her face.  “Nightmare in Halong Bay” When she's done her boyfriend makes an inane complaint about how much they were overcharged for water in Laos. No one likes being overcharged but by now my patience snaps as I remind him in Australia they flush away their shit with drinking water while in Laos they spend their lives avoiding water born diseases and when they get them spend their life's savings on medical treatment. This is lost on them. The guy barks back aggressively, "Its racism and corruption." Their friend, a chubby faced cherub who hasn't spoken a word all night stares wide eyed at me with the expression of a startled rabbit caught in the headlights with a carrot stuck up its arse. I actually feel guilty making fun of these people. It's like hunting a dairy cow with a high powered riffle and scope but when I soften up and explain calmly the economic disparity between Laos and Australia they grapple with the equation like monkeys in a laboratory figuring out how to use crayons. When I return to my room the house cat is sitting at the door waiting to come in. It's nice to return to intelligent life. The newly moneyed middle class from Hanoi swarm to the beachside in Halong City. Heads pop up and down in the grimy water that adjoins a major shipping lane while families claim a patch on the 'brand new' white sand beach. The beach, landscaped with thousands of tons of sand imported from Taiwan isn't the only thing that's new is this emerging holiday Mecca. Hotels, shopping centers and amusement arcades are springing up amongst a forest of cranes while the sea turns greasy and the sand loses its golden hue. Legend has it that the islands rising vertically from Halong Bay were caused by the tail of a giant dragon as it descended from the highlands to the sea. Loading my bike onto a speedboat I pay a fisherman a hefty sum to slice a path through this myriad of islands and connect me with the Vietnam/China border town of Mong Kai, three hours to the north.  “A fisherman in Halong Bay” Twenty minutes from the hullabaloo of the Bays brand new beach and beyond the cities shipping highway and sewage exits we enter a time warp. Archaic fishing boats handled by old timers work the sea against a backdrop of islands crafted from irregular limestone cliffs; shaded in vegetation and ringing in birdsong many of these islands are punctuated with caves and grottoes which provide shade for the fishermen when the sun frizzles their bristles. One of the deserted Islands is circled by a white sand beach. Seagulls hover overhead while on the beach down below two fishermen are working an open fire; chatting, cooking their catch and passing round a bottle.  “Okay, the last picture of Halong Bay.”
Only ten km's from the Chinese border I put up in another mock Grecian hotel overlooking the sea. In this resort the masses have gathered in great numbers to occupy such a narrow strip of sand it seems they'd begin to melt and coagulate if the humidity level were to rise. This time there are no Aussies to complain about the number of Vietnamese lining the coast. Taking a deckchair I sit back to watch the kids play and listen to the crashing of the waves. A spiky haired Vietnamese guy with Canadian residence waves me over. His table is piled high with grilled prawns and crabs that a group of teenage girls are hungrily working their way through. The guy tells me he works six months in Canada and six months in Vietnam. "The money is good in Canada,” he tells me, “but the life is better in Vietnam. I run a karaoke club on the border. These are my girls. Very cheap, only ten dollars, you want one." I tell him its okay but instead buy a beer and ask him how business is in town. "Its okay," he says with a shrug. Most of these girls are from the country. They just want to make some money… most of the customers are Chinese businessmen, y'know, boom boom, short time and its over." The girls, clad in ill fitting lycra and denim can't be more than 17 years old but they display their state of the art mobile phones like jewelry and follow their employer obediently when he gets up to return back to town. As night falls masses of people gather at the open front restaurants adjoining the beach. In Asia almost no one travels alone out of choice and here the concept of couples or even small groups on holiday seems alien. Everyone is part of a huge gathering. If they come as a family it seems every branch of that family will tag along and if it's a group of friends or work colleagues the numbers will be pumped. I soon figure out why. Their tables, piled high with beer and seafood that is hauled in by local fishermen moments before it lands on their tables can only be bought in bulk. When I sit down to order people look at me with pity. After a great deal of struggle to make myself understood I'm told I can only order in bulk. In other words, unless I order enough fish to feed a family of one hundred and twenty I can't order anything. Cursing the throats that swallow the fish I almost wish the Australians were here as an orifice of complaint. A pineapple lady bungs me a few slices for supper.  “The Pineapple Lady”
The following morning, with only 20km's between the coast and the Chinese border town of Mong Cai I decide to take the back lanes, explore the villages and loaf away a few hours in a bucolic idyll. Instead I find a junkyard adjoined to a welders forge. A pyramid of metal is piled high, much of it has been left to rust for decades but taking pride of place in this junkyard is a stripped down Chinese tank, bearing the emblem of Chairman Mau. Laos, Vietnam and China are three of the worlds few remaining communist countries. The second half of the 20th century was a violent and fruitless period for all three of these nations but today they're enjoying comparatively peaceful times. The economies of China and Vietnam are booming while on the surface they both proclaim to be friends. Sparks fly from the welders forge while I wander up to the tank and take a photo. A wiry guy in black overalls steps out from the forge, for a moment I fear he's going to zap me with his blow torch for trespassing but instead he offers to take my picture. A pretty dull subject matter that is so when I offer to take his he beams a wide smile and strikes a pose beside the tank. It doesn't matter what politics, religion or philosophies neighboring countries hold at some point they'll fight. In 1979 the Chinese rolled their tanks into Vietnam via this town. After Vietnam's unification in 1975 the government launched a campaign against Chinese entrepreneurs in the south by shutting down their businesses. Hundreds of thousands fled the border into China angering the Peoples Liberation Army. But what could they do, these were after all people being punished for taking the capitalist path. The Chinese swallowed the humiliation while Vietnam rubbed salt into the wound by developing closer relations with Russia, whom the Chinese also hated. The Vietnamese very cleverly played the Russians and the Chinese off against one another whilst collecting aid from both countries but the final straw came when the Vietnamese had the temerity to invade Cambodia and extricate the Khmer Rouge from power. In most peoples minds this was one of the most justifiable invasions of the 20th century. But not in the mindset of the Chinese rulers who had been long term supporters of Pol Pot and the genocide of up to 2,000,000 that he inflicted upon his own people. To teach the Vietnamese a lesson the Chinese invaded this war weary country in 1979. After 17 days of fierce fighting the Chinese retreated, claiming, as they do with every failed venture, great success. In truth the Chinese were badly mauled by the hardened Vietnamese fighters, suffering 20,000 fatalities and more than a few bruised egos and red faces in Tiananmen Square. The welder stands proudly beside the Chinese tank like it's his trophy I only wish I could speak with the welder about the Chinese invasion but unfortunately I'm simply too lazy to learn foreign languages.  “A peloton of field workers on stage 2,895 of… ‘‘Le Tour d’ Vietnam” Mong Cai is a free trade town whose markets buzz with frenetic activity. Produce floods in from China but the markets all close at 4:30pm when the Chinese return across the border. The town's skyline is dominated by ugly hotels and massage parlors. The air is thick with dust and despite being threatened by a drunk with scarred fists I know I’ll miss the verve and temerity that characterizes Vietnam.  “You forgot to scrub my back”
COMING UP NEXT…CHINA 
|
