Vietnam day 2+ – war, deathbikes, rain and jeeps.

We seem to have Forrest Gumped just the right amount off tiredness to offset the time difference, so wake bright and early and mostly refreshed. Breakfast is an apparently, to western palates, random assortment. We get stuck in to breakfast spring rolls, breakfast spicy beef soup, and how much minced pork would you like in your porridge sir?

Venturing out at 9am, it’s already hot a balls and twice as humid for our somewhat circuitous walk to the War Remnants Museum. The city is absolutely buzzing, layout confusing, and map a bit rubbish.

We get plenty of practice crossing the streets through heavy traffic and are confident that we are men of the city now, until we get to the museum and are helped across the road by a policeman because we hesitated for about five seconds waiting for a hint of a gap. This would have been the most humiliating moment of the day were it not for the 3 foot 8 young lady who helped us across at the 3 second mark on the way back later.

The museum is spectacularly cheap to get in, but instantly becomes more expensive when engaged by a lovely chap selling books. Now, being an international man of mystery, I’m generally pretty resilient to hawkers, but this bloke lost both arms and a leg to a landmine when he was eight. Let me tell you, it’s not so easy to tell someone to sling their hook when you’ve shaken them warmly by the stump.

The museum details both French and American colonialism/imperialism/not minding their own fucking business, and as well as the details of the war, has an entirely understandable focus on the abuses suffered by the people here. I spend the next few hours simultaneously sad, angry, appalled and ultimately furious. Especially about the staggeringly criminal use of agent orange, but generally about the story as a whole. It makes the static displays of armour and aircraft difficult to enjoy.

The museum closes for lunch, so we take a cyclo tour through the city, taking in various sights, a local lunch (dad piles lots of dangerous looking chillies into his, which he concedes may have been an error) and a kill or cure course for any remaining traffic anxiety as our pilots disregard any and all notions of one way traffic or giving way.

By the time we finish the museum, the heat and humidity has imposed upon us the marvellous notion that a siesta is in order so we stroll back to the hotel just as tropical rains descend. Much as they are again now, hence the blog post.

Post siesta we have a jeep/food tour of the city booked. This turns out to be one of our excellent making things up as we go along decisions. The open topped jeep is a really fun way to see the city, with a driver and guide who clearly know their stuff. The evening traffic is even crazier than in the day and we are right in amongst it.

A big part of the reason for taking the jeep tour was the promise of proper local food. We are only here for a few days so short on time to discover this stuff ourselves. Our guide, Hai, ate with us, showing what goes with what and explaining brilliantly. First up was banh xeo, referred to as a local cake but a sort of giant chaotic spring roll served with a selection of leaves that offered such an amazing assortment of flavours that iceberg lettuce is ruined for me forever.