Dong Jokes.

It seems rude to sign off on Vietnam without recounting some of the Dong (Vietnamese currency) jokes that kept 5 highly mature blokes amused for 3 weeks.

“Check it out, he’s sleeping with my Dong on his head.”

“Dude! Did you just slap me with your Dong?”

“I’ll see your dong and raise you.”

“Dude! Stop eyeing up my Dong!” (Usually in a restaurant after leaning a note out in plain view)

“That’s a whole lot of Dong!” (My that is expensive!)

You get the idea.

The tunnels

A side trip from Saigon takes us to the Cu-Chi Tunnels where the Vietnamese outsmarted the American folks by not eating burgers and being able to not only fit but live in a rabbit warren.  They’ve widened the tunnels since for the western physique but myself and the Chris’s still decide to exit at the first option.  Even on his knees Big Chris is a fair bit taller than the intended inhabitants.  Sam and Alex soldier on, Alex’s Asian blood serves him well and he pretty much strolls through. Sam however is reborn from the far end of the tunnel decidedly muddier in the shirt and redder in the face. Should Chris ever wish to keep his beer safe from Sam; Tunnels are the way forward.

At Cu-Chi you can also get your gun on for $1 a bullet.  You can apparently also pay to dispose of a cow by means of bazooka.  However, given the average beef curry costs $3 a whole heifer is likely to be quite pricey.

Saigon.

Saigon is a city of extremes.  My favourite of which is that between dinners as the boys gloat over their KFC feast as I go out to meet friends for what is expected to be yet more noodle soup. The gloating shall be mine; I meet Glen and Pynar, old friends from Turkey, and am shouted to a ridiculously swish all you can eat (and all you can drink) buffet at the Saigon Sheraton.  Feeling slightly underdressed I decide to go with it and give my most grounded ‘Ow do’ to our neighbouring suited and booted patrons and tuck into 7 or 8 courses of food that puts the most finger licking of chickens (I get to this point and am unsure of which chicken cliché to use? Out to roost? Seem quite paltry? A fowl option? Perhaps I’ll just leave it. Needless to say; the boys were less impressed with their bargain bucket than they had been.).

In Saigon we experience the extremes of serious and sillyness.  A visit to the war museum sees a lot of back patting for the larger of the Watts Brothers after the preserved Agent Orange babies prove a bit too much.  To be fair it’s not for the faint hearted especially if you had family in the war.  Luckily he’s easily cheered by a pint or two around the corner.

Onto the sillyness; our hotel is staffed by two twins (well there would be two of course) who in between near constant giggling manage to find time to educate us in Vietnamese.  More precisely this is limited to saying ‘noodle soup’ or ‘Pho’, ‘Fooah?’ No. ‘Phoooaha?’ No. ‘Foooaaha?’ Nearly. ‘Foooaaaha?’ No.  This will be why all the menus have pictures then.  After our language lesson they move on to stealing our ice cream.  It’s an old move; distract us with phonics and pilfer the dairy products.  Sam doesn’t take this lying down.  You don’t get between the big fella and his food! He bravely goes forth to reclaim his triple choc fudge and promptly returns under siege of very giggly pinching.  A wise move then sees him seek refuge behind Alex (½ his size) who selflessly (or without option depending on your view point) surrenders his nipples to the pinching and saves us all.  What a hero.  What a strange hotel!

Nha Trang

On the list of drunken activities, Nha Trang is an easy place to tick of a fair few Do’s and a fair more Don’ts.

Do; take a cyclo to the next bar.

Don’t; physically put the cyclo driver in the passenger seat and then drive said cycle into the next bar. Sorry!

Do; treat the city to a rousing rooftop rendition of Tenacious D’s ‘Fuck her gently’ with the boys nailing harmonies for an acquired audience of pub patrons.

Don’t; take exception to a distasteful shirt and launch it from said rooftop. Sorry!

Do; partake in a booze cruise involving an extremely poor version of karaoke yellow submarine, meet Lou and Nia and dive overboard when asked to sing again.

Don’t; forget the suncream people! Ouch!

Do; stop in when Chris finds himself arguing with a big Russian fella and his minders about Liverpool Football Club.

Don’t; miss the opportunity to continue winding said Russian up about football, organised crime, needing minders and his choice of shirt. The result of which being a rather disconcerting man hug and a couple of rounds of Grey Goose.

Do; make sure Big Chris is standing behind you when you gamble on the mafia having a sense of humour.

Don’t; go to the aquarium.
 

Hoi An

There is decidedly more on offer in Hoi An than in Hue.  For a start we’ve gone up a notch in our lodgings, now paying a whopping $10 a night.  This 5 star fee earns you air con, TV, a pool, plastic flowers on your pillow and free cocktails at happy hour. The later seems like the icing on the cake and gets the thumbs up from all involved for the first 3-4 drinks.  At around drink 5 the secret ingredient (which I’m guessing is Diesel) starts actively attacking internal organs, time to move to Beer.

Hoi An has some nice little bars & restaurants though I am grading them mostly on my lack of memory which usually indicates a good time was had by all.  What I do remember is that Hoi An is very hangover friendly with early afternoon happy hours in lazy street bars making damn good Bloody Marys you can knock back whilst shooting pool with nearly all the balls.  If you wake before the bars open you can meander through the markets and test your battered brain cells trying to identify the disturbing items that were probably in last nights curry.  Hoi An is in fact well tailored for all post debauchery activities.  That is apart from that for which Hoi An is most famous; tailoring.

If there is a list of tasks not to be undertaken when worse for wear the buying tailor made clothes is surely up there. I had the pleasure of witnessing various gentlemen (hung-over Englishmen and perfectly sober Americans) make extremely ill-informed choices matching styles of suit last seen on a Bee-Gee video with fabrics stolen from a futuristic animal themed psychedelic tea shop. This is definitely a case of doing something just because you can.  They surely can’t have a use for these outfits at home?  Maybe they do, maybe Hoi An is the only place they can get required clothing for the little advertised vocation of holistic therapist for African mammals suffering from time displacement psychosis with a side addiction to Bergamot.  Perhaps. 

Having said this, I did leave Hoi An with some very ugly shorts against all of Elisa’s advice.

An out of date update.

So, the last 3 posts have been sat on my computer for over a year and were scribbled in my diary for roughly 7 months before that.  Why so long?  Well it is certainly true that the longer you leave things the harder it is to pick them up again (ice cream on a hot day springs to mind) but I am going to lay the blame squarely at the feet of the event that coincided with the the start of this mammoth chasm in writing.  Yup, meeting a woman just seems to get in the way of getting stuff done and the fact is; in the 18 months odd I’ve been with Hayley I’ve written little more than a postcard.  I’m sure she won’t appreciate me blaming her, especially as she’s told me to to crack on with the writing on numerous occasions, but I feel justified in my my tarring for the following reasons;
It is in the job description as someone’s partner that you must shoulder and accept the other person’s complete lack of logical thinking over any matter particularly one that involves something being your fault.  Arguing against such thinking does not serve you well as it only propagates further irrational brain activity.  Hayley, along with anyone who’s ever been in a relationship will be forced to agree with this (whether she actually agrees or simply abides to point one as described).
Women are a distraction.  This is twice as true when they are making a point of not being distracting.
Anyway, as long as we’re clear that the lack of writing was in no way my fault or due in any part to a procrastinating character. Sweet.
So, it’s New Years (see it’s not, it’s taken me a month to type this scrawl up!) and I’m making a resolution to finish off everything I’ve started.  Sounds simple but it would be better described as self torture - this is going to take ages!  The most over due thing on my list is 14 years out of date!  Anyhoo, this rather optimistic and some would say foolish venture starts off with finishing my blog and a dozen other ideas that are presently comprised of incomprehensible scribblings on assorted bits of paper.
I figure I’ve got about 20 more posts to finish of my rants and ramblings about my time in Asia.  They may not interest anyone now they’re well past being current but it should at least provide me with something to look back at in the dark future where I’m either chained to a desk or ruminating over my choice in fawn knitwear.

Hue is pronounced as if a Spaniard is consuming his curds with it.

Just as the Italian palette isn’t accustomed to $1 vodka so the Italian derma is unaccustomed to $3 lodgings.  Elisa greets our new accommodation with the verdict of “shit’ole”.  I can’t argue with the assessment, it is indeed a shithole.  But I like shitholes!  They tend to be a step above a dive and are in a whole different class than the hovels that I have often fondly called home.  Still, it’s one night and I offer assurances that the next town shall be an improvement.
So, why should you go to Hue?  To be honest, if you miss it, don’t worry too much.  The big attraction is the palace fort - a collection of neglected buildings undergoing very sporadic attempts at restoration.  Elisa seems to get the most out of it whilst the guys and I amuse ourselves with a small cat, some flip flops and a camera.  Cultured to the bone we are.
There are also meant to be some pretty impressive pagodas although, after an hour or so of searching, the only one Elisa and myself find is still under construction.  If these are their historical highlights then local builders really take their tea breaks seriously.
It’s a pretty sharp exit from Hue on another night bus.  The night buses in Vietnam are probably the best I’ve experienced and in stark contrast to those of India.  You can lie down fully (unless you’re Big Chris) and there’s little danger of flying out the window or landing on the poor soul below you.
The only thing causing me any discomfort is a girl by the name of Kia.  Verbal diarrhea doesn’t even come close!  She is somehow able to pick up on a conversation as mundane as Oreo cookies and steer it towards politics, religion, tourism, waste management, globalisation and aquariums.  Of course it quickly ceases to be a conversation and flows with the smoothness of Desperate Dan’s chin into a preaching monologue.  Her travel companion is a poor, beaten down, shadow of a man named Duncan.  Not that I got his name from him!  He seems to have developed a physical muteness by acquaintance.  I find the best way to combat Kia’s verbal volleys is to supply her with numerous movies to watch on the Ipod.  When the batteries eventually fail it’s back to my old friend - Valium.