We Won Part II Saigon

This is the third time I have started to write this blog. I keep forgetting to save as I go along and when I sit there thinking the next lines the bloody machine shuts down and dumps all my efforts. It is very frustrating.

We arrived in Saigon a bit subdued. Sad at saying goodbye to our dear friend Thanh and sad that the trip is drawing to a close. Ernie was pumped ready to take on a chaotic and frantic and more importantly noisy Saigon. Vicky excited with new prospects and sights to eagerly embrace. She is a consumate traveller, organised, eager and ready for anything. 

Vicky and I spent the afternoon going through the Bhinh Thanh markets. A short walk through the central park, keeping to the shadows trying to avoid the outrages of the sun. It has a special quality here in Saigon. Where-else it would be a hindrance here it is life threatening. Then a dash across the street near the end where there is a zebra crossing (which meant absolutely nothing to the millions zooming past and around us). The markets are unchanged and unchanging. I reckon if you went there in 10 years it would still be the same, with the same stalls in the same places. Maybe new faces as the old grow older and the young takeover. I love the smells as you get near the veggie stalls. Wafting through the tightly packed scene a breath of Durian descends on the unwary. Some gag, some turn around and run and yet others whose curiosity becomes too great bend in for a better whiff. Invariably it causes humour, laughing embarassedly and general hilarity. It is one of those clashes of culture that I love. People from the west, who do not know it, look at durian with horror wondering how anyone could eat something so foul smelling as a fruit or sweet dessert. Local people or those in the know look on with bemusement wondering what all the fuss is about. It's just a fruit after all. The final word or should I say cartoon comes in the form of a sign found in Lao, Cambodian and Vietnamese hotels. It is a silouette of a durian surrounded by a red circle and crossed through with a red line. No durian here mate!

The next day turned into a real downer for us all. Vicky and Ernie were told of the death by truck accident of a very dear friend of thiers. It was sudden and totally unexpected. They were both gobsmacked and bereft. It is one of the features of travelling that bad news from home reinforces a feeling of isolation and helplessness. You feel powerless, a useless cog with no machine to move. Events are happening that you can't be part of no matter how much you wish you could. Shortly after Vic and Ernies news arrived my friend Tony Savins let me know of the death of Ralph Woodford, a dear friend and table tennis foe. Ralph was/is a character larger than life. His legacy will live on in the amazing forests he created and the messages and learnings he taught about regeneration and re afforestation. I will not be able to walk among the trees at Rocky Creek dam without thinking of him and thanking him for his inspiration and life lessons. Vale Ralph. Again the travelling disease, I will not be able to be at the gathering to say goodbye. Oh shit! Life can be very harsh sometimes.

We had planned to "sight see" this day. So with long faces and longer hearts we bundled into a taxi and headed off for the War Museum (formerly the "Museum of American War Atrocities"). The whole museum has been redeveloped since my last visit some 13 years previously. There are the usual static displays outside of military hardware not able to fit  inside the building. All american all deadly and devastating. They had piles of very big bombs that had been collected from those that did not go off. Some of these bombs were huge, belittling the "barrel bombs" of the current Syrian nightmare. Also outside a new development is an exhibit of the "tiger cages" managed by the French and later Americans with the willing assistance from Vietnamese/French supporters and in the case of the Americans thier puppet government in the south. Both Governments French and Americans were fully aware of what went on in these places and they persisted actively in the pursuit of torture and incredibly inhuman behaviour. It had no expected outcome other than causing increible pain and suffering for very long periods of time ... years even. I left that exhibit emotionally a wreck, devstated and tear driven. The main  building is very well done out and wonderfully setup for those who are a little frail with age and in my case emotion. There are three floors including the ground. The ground floor is about how others saw the conflict. There are photos from all over the world. From countries you would not expect, carribean countries, south american countries, Africans and the subcontinent of India. They have changed the Australian photo. The last time I was there, I saw a photo of Danny Blackman. It is now changed to one from Melbourne. The next floor is documented what the Americans actually did. How many they killed, how they did it and what the consequences were. There were displays of guns and such like, rockets, bazookas, machine guns etc. Then there were the photographs. They were real undoctored and unconditional. There were the iconic, the one of a Vietnamese Officer executing a suspected militia soldier in the street in Saigon after the Tet Offensive. One other was of that little girl running down the road naked with her skin melting from napalm. The one that stopped me and left me emotionally destroyed was of an American GI standing proudly and smiling while holding his M16 in one hand and in the other held tophy like was the partial torso and head of a dead Vietnamese. There were many more of these photos each individually horrific and every one building a feeling in me of absolute disgust and revulsion of the American way. George fucking bloody Bush could not have said it better.. "if you are not with us you are against us". Well that is right bud. I am agin ya! You fucking bunch of toe rags. The final storey is about the truth of what happened. The Americans told so many lies not only did they loose sight of the truth but the liars began to believe thier own lies! There is information aplenty here, statistics of bombs dropped, lives taken (body  count where even a baby is counted VC). Viet Cong, "Charlie" etc are all American creations. The Vietnamese refer to them as local Militia. Or rarely guerillas. Even the American name for it ... the war, is a misnomer. The Vietnamese refer to it as the American war. Just like the 2 French wars and the Japanese war before it. What is devastating about all this was that the Americans knew exactly what they were doing. There were no mistakes and they had control of it. Despite knowing exactly that they were loosing. This was even as early as 1965. They kept fighting and killing locals and thier own for another 10 years!!! In that time there were a number of elections where the American public could have stopped this. The stupid people not only didn't do this but they couldn't even get control of thier own gun ownership. It would appear Americans prefer to remain heartless killers.

They close the museum so we, a little relieved caught a cab to the Notre Dame de Saigon, opposite the General Post Office designed as it happens by Musieur (sp?) Eiffel of the Tour Eiffel fame. We could not go into the Cathederal but the GPO was great. It has a huge picture of Uncle Ho at one end with ancient maps at the other. There are phone booths with times from all over the world above them. The sense of old world pervades the air. It is still a functioning Post Office where you can post cards or suchlike as a tourist thing.

We went for lunch at a nearby resteraunt and the  caught a taxi to the Botanical Gardens  and Zoo. Vic and I walked around the exhibits looking at monkeys, Giraffes, Zebras and other animals from all over the world. We spent sometime in the reptile section. There were a plethora of Burmese Pythons, enormous snakes of a yellow speckled hue mostly sound asleep. I left Vicky to explore after the monkey house where is luckily ducked under a shower of shit thrown by one of the more objectionable monkeys who tried one on. I sat reading in the shade with Ernie while waiting for Vicky to finish her inspection.

That evening we went to the Sheraton, the top floor for cocktails at sunset during the happy hour. The views are spectacular. They are so good that the next day Vicky and Ernie went for coffee at an even taller building that has dwarfed the Sheraton. We had been back to the Bhinh Thanh markets in the morning and had a Pho for lunch. I needed some quiet so it was good to let them go for it on thier own. The next day we flew to Siem Reap for the last bit.

We Won!!

Today is my last day on Don Det, 4,000 Islands Laos PDR. Tomorrow I go to Siem Reap in Cambodia to be ready for my flight home on Christmas day via Singapore. I am going home early andthis is not what I had planned but is the only course open to me. It is a very long storey which I am committed to tell but there is one task I must complete before I continue the tale of the journey.

We won! There is no better way to put it. On Monday last Metgasco held its general meeting to consider the Board's recommendation to accept the Licence Byback offer of the State government. The meeting accepted the recommendation and move to accept the offer. This means the end of Coal Seam Gas in the Northern Rivers. No Government no matter its political focus would be so stupid as to consider opening the Northern Rivers to mining ever again. Not only this, what we learned about how and what to do in the Bentley struggle/campaign, is community gold. We learnt that we are powerful and that we can operate collectively, ethically and non violently and win. That is the best thing. We can protect ourselves, wecan show our commitment. I am sad I was not there for the end.... only it isn't really, the end I mean.

I was skimming the previous posts and noticed that I had omitted the morning the Vicky Thanh and I spent at My Son on the outskirts of Hoian. The local authorities have done the place up. There is a very good visitors centre and a performance space where we saw some Cham Dancing. It was similar to the Apsara Dancing of Angkor. They were Khmers and these guys were Chams, natural enemies. My Son has a large number of brick built temples some of which were huge towers. Unfortunately the Americans carpet bombed the place in thier maddness during thier war there. Many if not most of the temples have been devastated. What is left is a tantalising taste of something bigger than us all. I was talking to a chap on Don Det this time. I can't remember the conversation completely but I do remember talking with him about a "Sun Temple" in Vietnam that was aligned with Wat Po in Laos and the temples at Kor Key and Beng Malaya and Angkor Wat. What was interesting was he was actualy talking about My Son! I would love to know how all these peoples "fitted". More research options.
 

The rare and engangered Red Shanked Douc

We spent 3 glorious nights in Hoian eating excuisite food and drinking great coffee while consuming a plethora of devine pattiseries that made the mouth water at the memory. I could spend a month in Hoian andstill feel cheated for time. It is a fabulous place. Pity that so many people feel the same way as the place is infected with a myriad of tourists all seeking something cheap. On our second day we hired motorbikes. Mr Thanh joined us at the river mouth and we set off for what the Amermican invaders referred to as "Monkey Mountain". MM is found on the edge of Danang. We rode along the coast raod to the 3rd largest city in Vietnam. The coast here is littered with huge resorts both fi ished and unfinished. Side by side would be these huge concrete skeletons next to opulent structures with manicured grounds poorly hidden behind concrete walls. At one point we passed a huge structure surrounded by cranes and rickety bamboo  scaffolding. Right next door was a finished resort that had gone broke before it opened with crumbling tile rooves and windowless openings like missing teeth. The whole thing was quite bizarre. Across the road were several huge golf courses one of which was designed by Greg Norman. I think the aim was to attract large numbers of Chinese, Korean and Japanese tourists. They seem to restrict themselves to the  closer to Danang resorts where they have access to casinos and other diversions that are accessed by bus loads of these characters.

Our aim was to ride the bikes to the top of Monkey Mountain in the hope of spotting some of the resident Monkeys. On a previous trip I had seen heaps of Macacs. We rode the length of the island just above the coast. We stopped at a beachside resteraunt that offered heaps of variety in the menu but in reality did not have any of the  dishes we selected. I ended up with a Banana flower salad with pork that was quite tastey. We rode on until we found a concrete strip going almost vertically up the mountain. I roared up for some way only to find I was alone. Returning back down the precipice I found Vicky and Ernie parked up at an intersection I had passed. Apparently thier machine did not have the power to get them up the steep hill. While discussing this Vicky spotted some Monkeys in the trees above us. Mr Thanh became very excited when we realised that these creatures were not Macacs. In fact they were a small band of Red Shanked Doucs (Langurs) ! These animals are extremely rare and are listed as endangered by international agencies. Here we were looking atraight at these incredible creatures totally wild and totally free. They are the most colorful of Monkeys. They are quite large being the size of about a 7 year old child. They have the cutest red/orange coloured face, a long thin white tail. Thier arms from the elbow to wrist re white with dark hands with the appearance of gloves. Thier lower legs are bright red. The effect is very striking. We watched them with wonder for about half an hour. Mr Thanh was beside himself. He was taking heaps of photos and tried valiantly to get  closer  with no luck. We watched these animals feeding on leaves and throwing themeselves around the canopy with a proffesionalism that boggled the mind. It was so uplifting to see these creatures. We, Vicky and I walkeda bit further up the hill and came across quite a large band of Macacs who were on the ground and looking very suspiciously at us. Making warning sounds to thier comrades they withdrew into the jungle only to peer at us through the vegitation. It was wonderful. Thanh announced that he was going up the mountain to see if he could see some more Langurs and we headed back down the mountain to visit the 50m statue of Quan Ong (the Vietnamese version of the lady Bhudda called Quan Lin in China). There are a number of temples in the  complex. One, the biggest contains 3 golden statues that are huge and very impressive. In another there was a jade bhudda that was remarkable. The surrounding gardens were full of huge bonsai trees and a large number of marble statues depicting the various incarnations of the bhudda. The effect was awe inspiring. I wandered about having my photo taken by lots of different Vietnamese and other asian tourists. One lot had me standing beside the Jade Bhudda hands together in front of my chin. I felt a little awkwrd about this as I am not a believer. My feelings of being a fraud  were completely ignoredby the people taking the photos. They obviouslythought this was right and proper so I did not disabuse them.

We finished the day with the long ride back to Hoian. That night (our last with Thanh) we ate at the Mango Mango rooms. Another  meal that could not be beat. The next morning it was up at 4:30 am for the flight to Saigon. The trip with Vicky and Ernie is drawing inexorably toward the denouement when they get on the plane to Singapore from Siem Reap. I have enjoyed our journey together it has been very nice to share a piece of Asia with them.

The food is absolutely amazing

We arrived in Hoian yesterday just after lunch. We left Hue on a very wet and drear morning. Our hotel was very nice and several of the staff came out to wave us off. The Vietnamese understand service better than any I have experienced. While it seems a bit over the top, it doesn't feel that way. They are so friendly and will go way way out of thier way to be helpful and of service. That is not to say there are not people who are not so nice, that happens everywhere. But my experience has been overwhelmingly good and itfeels so comfortable here.

We travelled down Highway 1 a new experience for me as I usually try to avoid this road lkke the plague. It is a haven for trucks and buses. At least in this part of Vietnam the road has been divided. This is a good thing because you don't have trucks or buses bearing down on you from the opposite direction as they recklessly overtake a slower vehicle. One side effect however is that trucks buses and cars hug the outside lane, leaving the inner for motorbikes. This leads to a situation where a vehicle that wants to overtake has to cajole and ha ssle the vehicle in front to move tothe left. This leads to frusration and the posibility of road rage. In the long term it would be goodto have a third lane exclusively for motorbikes leaving the existing lanes for vehicles who should keep right unless overtaking.

We went on my bit of road to escape  Highway 1 just before the Hi Van Pass. It turned out to be a successful choice with Thanh and Ernie leaping out to take photos of  fishermen, mountains and waterfalls. This little bypass is such a welcome relief. It is really quiet and serene, running beside a huge inlet that is covered with oyster leases and fish traps and groups of fishing huts/houses on stilts. There were idyllic scenes of concical hatted fishermen poling thier smallish boats around thier huts doing maintenance and other tasks. It all looked so peaceful even in the rain. 

We had a very pleasant lunch in Danang after crossing the Hi Van Pass. We had coffee at the top. When you get out of your car at the top of the pass you are assailed by a passle of women who are the best husslers in the business of getting tourists to part with thier money. Thier persistence is a credit to thier roles and you have to admire them for thier fortitude. We had coffee surrounded by 3 -4 women encouraging us to buy something. I had a woman behind me massaging my neck and playing with my dreadlock. I eventually relented and bought a small trinket. The Danang lunch was a seafood extravaganza with squid, shrimp and frog. It was delicious.

What could I say about Hoian that I have not said before. I love the place. It is like a good and true old friend enveloping me in its warm embrace. So nice to be back. There have been some changes. The markets have been revamped and look very fresh and new. We arrived after lunch and took things easy in the arvo just walking to the Cargo Club to have some coffee and amazing pattiserie, I had the passionfruit cheesecake  topped with delicate pieces of moulded chocolate both white and brown. That evening we wandered down the road along beside the river. The tide was coming in and we got avery practical demonstration of global warming. The river had come up over some parts of the road. As we ate our meal it came up so high as to cover the road completely right up to the stairs of our resteraunt. We ate that night at the Mango Rooms. It was where I had the best meal of my life some 7 years ago when Meri and I first came to Hoian. Well the meal this night was just as good! I had fresh sping rolls for entree and a large piece of Red Snapper sitting on a bed of mango and tomato. There were these long green beans dizzled in a crumbly sauce that was beyond description. The whole plate was finished off with a cone of noodles wrapped in banana leaf. Every element was cooked to perfection. The tastes were extreme in thier excuisiteness. Superb, fantastic and every possible word of wonder you could think of. The food was simply absolutely amazing.