Stop Press!

Trying to finish Cyprus trip. Four new videos uploaded into previous posts.

After trotting around Southeast Asia over the summer, I'm now back in the UK - Cambridge to be exact. Am trying my best to update as frequently as my clinical course will allow.

Entries on Italy and France two winters ago have been put on hold indefinitely. Read: possibly never. But we shall see.

Entries on Greece and Turkey last winter have also been put on hold for the time being.

Posted:
Don Det (Laos), Don Khone

Places yet to blog about:
Ban Nakasang, Champasak, Pakse, Tha Kaek, Vientienne, Vang Vien, Ban Phoudindaeng, Luang Prabang, Khon Kaen (Thailand), Bangkok, Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia), London (England), Cambridge

Thursday 31 July 2008

Mekong delta


There's no way roads in inner Southeast Asia are worse than those in the Mekong delta. No fucking way. A six-hour ride on literally non-existent roads for more than half of the journey - alternating between a hardly smooth surface of large rocks and deep potholes with dusty paths and muddy tracks. And whoever designed these roads clearly never thought about the gradual incline to and from bridges.


I'm surprised my stomach withstood it all despite a lunch of soup noodles - even the conductor stuck her head out of the window to throw up. Irony: foundations of new tarred roads and wide bridges being laid down parallel to the 'road' we were on throughout the entire journey by labourers.


The Mekong delta is bewildering even when viewed at sea level - what more from above. It's one wide expanse of lowland divided erratically into little islands by the Mekong river which fans out into the region. There are no mountains to behold, just flat farmland as far as the eye can see - obscured by tall trees every now and then.


Throughout the journey, we cross countless bridges spanning the little tributaries of the Mekong river, bordered by little villages that live off them. At the ferry crossing, the land looks as if it had been torn asunder and the sea rushed into the gash and churned up the silt to form the great brown river.


The harvest season must've just ended. The fields are mostly bare and the smog and the smell of smoke in the air suggest the burning of chaff. I see more churches here - apparently thanks to the missionaries who tried to save the poor souls of the tribes who live in godlessness far away from the civilization of big cities. Development is approaching, slow, but everywhere you go, you see the sign of the New Messiah.


So I'm sitting in this bus, and I'm thinking, 'This is going to be worse than Chongqing and Dazu.' There, at least I had a map (not for Dazu) and I could probably save my life with Chinese. But here, I don't have a map and I speak only three phrases of Vietnamese. This is going to be hard and will most likely be the toughest leg of this trip this time around.


The thing about sunsets is that they're very brief. The sun puts on its show just within that small window of a few minutes; just before it dips completely below the horizon, throwing red splashes all over the darkening sky. And for a brief moment, it's all over and the world is plunged into darkness.

Wednesday 30 July 2008

Ho Chi Minh City Museum


Reunification Palace


Visiting the Reunification Palace and the Ho Chi Minh City Museum has been an enlightening experience. Ho Chi Minh City's take on the Vietnam war is a refreshing change from that of Hanoi. Coming from the capital city of the defeated faction in the civil war, it is also a more informative and interesting perspective.


I think it's fair to say that Vietnam's history is unique. Throughout its history, it has always faced the threat of invasion by foreign powers: the imperial Chinese dynasties of Qin, Han and Ming; the Mongolians under Kublai; as well as the French and American imperialists. And they have always fought back for their freedom and sovereignty. Although they have not always prevailed, this nationalistic fervour seems to have bridled under the surface like embers waiting for the right conditions to fan into a blazing fire of vengeance.


And this is why I don't understand the Vietnamese. After having gone through such a turbulent past, you'd have expected it to show in their behaviour whether in their ferocity in handling business, or their suspiciousness towards foreigners, or even a certain roughness in their speech. But instead, you find the opposite in the Vietnamese. If anything, they appear to have a blase attitude towards everything.


I spoke to Kiet about this and he thinks it's because the Vietnamese knows there's nothing that can be done but to try their best to keep on surviving. There's nothing they can do about the war, but there's certainly something they can do to save themselves. And that's how they persevere.


Forgive me but I don't think this is true. Being fatalistic does not cause a people to unite and build Ho Chi Minh's Trail, or even dig the Cu Chi Tunnels or win the Vietnam war. Being fatalistic only lets you survive for a little while longer.


After two weeks in Vietnam, her people still intrigue me.

Tuesday 29 July 2008

War Remnants Museum


The War Remnants Museum is an excellent museum - and not just because of its detailed English captions. As its name suggests, it houses - as part of its exhibits - a collection of US fighter planes, tanks, artillery and bombs. Small mention is made on the Indochina war with the French but the stress lay more on the (second) Vietnam war.


My favourite exhibit has to be the exhibit dedicated to the photojournalists who risked their lives to bring us such vivid photographs of a war even before my time, which now serve to remind me of unfortunate times. Aside from the informative captions, their photographs are also accompanied by excerpts from their journals, writings, books or interviews (those who survived). I don't think I've ever been moved by such an exhibition before.


What I like about this musum is the lack of outright recriminations (except for one exhibit). Instead, its exhibits sue for peace and act as a reminder to all so that history is not repeated. Even the emblem of the museum bears a white dove in the foreground. Sure, it's not entirely neutral but I find the exhibits on chemical (Agent Orange) warfare and the brutality of war to innocent civilians a warning to the horrors of any war.

Monday 28 July 2008

Couchsurfing Saigon


Meet Steve. He's a high-school graduate from Canada. He lives in Ho Chi Minh City with Charlie from Buffalo, Martin from York and Whitney from an undisclosed location. Minh does not live here although she apparently spends more time here than wherever it is she lives. She's Vietnamese but speaks impeccable English and only a smatter of Vietnamese which gives me doubts as to her background.

They all live together in this house, a 45-minute walk from the centre. Their rooms are simple and basic - some with only a mere mattress on the floor. It's a good indication as to how I might possibly live now that I've got a house of my own. They all teach English at private tuition centres around Ho Chi Minh City.

When prompted as to why Ho Chi Minh City, they replied, "This is the life!" What followed was a discussion on the different mindsets between Asians and Caucasians. Steve said it is "more free" here - easier to get a job with his high-school credentials. I've yet to ask whether a 'free-er' job meant a non-'nine-to-five' job or a job that's not the standard professional job as expected of a person who comes from a society that can afford tertiary education or where tertiary education is so easily available.

Giac Lam


Altar for body remains: The walls are lined with shelves enclosed by glass. Within them are jars in which ashes of the deceased are kept. Some jars are plain and simple, some are carved in the shape of lotus buds, others are ornately decorated with Buddhist themes. Photos are attached to some. And one jar, huddling inconspicuously amongst the rest, displays two photos: ashes of both husband and wife. A love inseparable even by death - a true everlasting love, one that surpasses space and time.


I like this temple very much. It's a true place of worship where prayer is taken seriously: only between Man and God. The front doors are locked and the only way in is through the back. But obviously only if you're familiar to the place of worship (or if you explore it thoroughly).


Most pagodas are seven-stories high. They represent the seven steps to enlightenment or so I read somewhere. And I quite like the whole concept: reaching nirvana by climbing seven-stories of stairs, or in this case, the top where you get a sweeping view of the land, the state of nirvana when one comes to deep understanding.


And what a view, houses spreading in all directions as far as the eye can see. It's like a never-ending Athens. And all around, you hear the noisy sound of traffic and the deafening noise of construction. Even the chanting of monks which filled the entire temple complex are drowned out. It's actually driving me up the wall.

Phuoc Hai


The Phuoc Hai: the wood carvings and panels above the altars are blanketed from the smoke of incense over the span of years whilst the ceramic statues on the roof still gleam in their colours under the sun.

Saigon sights

Notre Dame Cathedral

City Hall

Ho Chi Minh City is similar in some ways to Hanoi. I was expecting a busy metropolis enclosed by tall skyscrapers but the backpackers' area where the bus dropped me off is pretty much similar to Hanoi's Old Quarter. Kiet says it's because we're in the wrong district: business and commercial districts are not located in the centre of the city.

Opera House

That said, its city centre where the French built their colonial structures - remnant of French imperialism - is pretty . I mean, come on, would the Vietnamese build an opera house? The city hall, and post office are really something to see. The river is another story though - apparently, the city council is trying to build up the district situated just across the river into another commercial district so maybe in a few years time, it may just look like Shanghai's Pudong area.

Post Office

Ben Thanh Market


If I thought Hanoi was bad enough, Ho Chi Minh City is worse. Not only is the traffic heavier here, but motorists really push it to the limits here, coming within millimetres between them and you - and here I am contemplating if I should rent a motorcycle or not.

Cholon


Cholon, or Ho Chi Minh City's Chinatown, is not as I had expected. Apparently, it was the Chinese who first founded this city, with its market at the very centre. If you study the map of Indochine (as the French call it) on the left wall of the Post Office, you'll find a black dot indicating the town of Cholon and distinct from the black dot indicating the new French settlement of Saigon. For the obvious reason of political influence, the French decided to establish their outpost a little distance away from the local city, heralding a new era of change and reconstruction.


Over time, the town of Cholon became incorporated into the rest of the sprawl that is Ho Chi Minh City as the latter expanded. Cholon itself assimilated local Vietnamese culture - Chinese signboards can still be seen here and there although Vietnamese signs now outnumber them. The local community speak both Cantonese and Vietnamese proficiently without an accent that could distinguish them from the local Vietnamese. The district is no longer the Chinese outpost trying to spread civilization to the local barbarians- another of Ho Chi Minh City's many districts modernizing beyond distinction and recognition.

Thien Hau Temple

Sunday 27 July 2008

Po Ngar Cham Towers



Long Son Pagoda


Nha Trang


I can't see what all the fuss is about: Nha Trang is such a boring city.

Saturday 26 July 2008

Hoi An riverbank


Sitting on riverbank, I can just picture Chinese junks sailing into the little river from the great South China Sea sea. Casting their anchors just a short distance away from the banks, they are swamped by smaller ships that pull up alongside them or moor off the piers and every other vessel in between.


I've just had one last good look at the old town. The Frenchies are definitely having an effect on me: here I am sitting on a low stool by a low table - which I'm getting used to - watching the traffic up and down the river. The sun's just about to set and it's been a good day.

Hearts melt


The Land of Smiles - beautiful everywhere. A suggestion, a flash. A reply broad and big. Hearts melt.

Hoi An Market


Early morning again - this time to the wet market. Saturday morning - no other better time, surely?


I love markets - both wet and dry - not just for what is being sold but also for its human-esque quality. It's obvious how markets reflect the livelihood and economy of a town; less obvious its history; and even less so its culture and beliefs.


But it's such a human thing - markets: where everybody converge at a specific point in space and time to interact with each other in more ways than one. It's simply a characteristic of human civilization: no civilization has ever occurred without a marketplace.