Day 420 - 4 Sep ‘24 - Koh Rong Sanloem. I think there are only three other groups of people staying at this resort, and there are approximately three staff members for each person here!
Dan and I reckoned the resort must just pay to keep the staff on over the quiet season, which meant excellent attention for us.
We were served immediately at breakfast this morning, but midway through eating, the rain started pouring.
“Rainy season,” our waitress said, as her co-worker wound down the rain shades.
“It must be absolutely devastating for the people here on holiday, who have travelled hours on a plane from whichever country they came from, to have a tropical island holiday, only for it to rain all day,” I said to Dan.
On the way back to our room, I spotted a sign that said ‘free try scuba diving’, held in the resort pool on Wednesdays and Saturdays.
Yes! Today was a Wednesday, and at 10:30am I saw the dive instructor drive his tractor trailer past, with tanks and BCDs and fins.
“Come on kids, let’s go diving!”
The instructor, Junior, was truly fantastic! It was just Alex and Abi with him at that time, and he slowly talked them through all the things he was going to teach them, in extremely simple terms.
They learned hand signals, how to clear their masks, how to clear their ears in the deeper end of the pool, how to put the regulator back in if they still had air in their lungs, and how to put it back in using the purge button. He even got them to practice finding the regulator if it had come out their mouths, by swinging their arm back and around. So thorough!
Then, they got to try breathing just by sitting in the shallow end of the pool. After trying all the techniques they’d just learned, they all went swimming around in the shallow end for a while.
Once Junior was happy with how they were going, he took them to the deeper part of the pool, keeping them both within arms reach at all times, and staying particularly close to Abi.
After 10 or so minutes, Junior then gave me his gear, and I got to go diving with them for a while. Junior continued to stay close to the kids, which was awesome.
Sadly, it was over all too soon, as another couple was waiting to have a turn.
“THAT WAS SO COOL!” Alex said with a big grin.
“Can we do it again?” Abi asked.
“You know you’ve ruined snorkelling for them now?” I said to Junior with a laugh.
We spent the rest of the morning in the poolside gazebo, and even ordered lunch to eat there, which our waiter told us was possible because it was quiet.
I had a lovely chicken amok, and it was the third different consistency it’s come in! The first was like a soup, the second was a set mousse, and this one was like a mousse that had been blended.
Alex and Abi did some school work after lunch, then we went on a short stroll along the beach. It was super quiet - at the other beach front resorts we saw maybe three or four people on loungers.
We walked past a shrine to someone, the likes of which we hadn’t seen anywhere else, as the skin was dark. We’ve no idea who it was, or why it was there, as the inscription was in Khmer.
We returned to our hotel and went for a quick swim in the sea. It was about the same temperature as the pool (cool but not cold), and incredibly shallow. We easily walked 50m out and the water never got higher than our mid-thighs.
The Saracen Bay, named after a British naval vessel, was incredibly well protected, so the water was super flat. This shallow water and low tides meant the beach sadly smelled like mudflats.
We went back to the pool again (cool, not refreshing), then the kids did more schoolwork while Dan and I did more Vietnam research.
After dinner we walked down the beach a little to a nearby hostel/pub that was having a quiz night. The drinks were cheaper than our resort, they were playing great music (albeit it rather loud), and they had a pool table!
(Abigail is obviously vertically challenged to play, but she still gives it her best effort).
We had a couple of drinks while we waited for the quiz to start. Shortly before 9pm, when we were just about to leave, there was finally enough people to make four teams, and the quiz was on.
What a hilarious pub quiz! The guy asking questions went to the toilet halfway through and his replacement (who was extremely drunk, and the bar manager!) got the questions all wrong, another group of four people turned up halfway, and we somehow managed to finish second and win a round of free drinks (which two of them were obviously (unfortunately) non-alcoholic ). It was a pretty rubbish effort though, at just 22.5/40.
We had so much fun, with lots of laughter, and we didn’t get to bed until almost 1am! Two for one cocktails will always help with an enjoyable evening/night.
Day 421 - 5 Sep ‘24 - Koh Rong Sanloem. A few minutes after we went to bed, I needed the toilet. I zigzagged my way down the eight metre path to the bathroom, bumping into a bed, a chair, another bed, and a wardrobe, much to Dan’s amusement. Miraculously, I didn’t trip up or down the small steps into the bathroom.
While there, I was gripped by the sudden urge to pray to the porcelain god. Twice. I was smart enough to take out my retainers before making my devotions. I also decided to remove my ear plugs, because apparently that was important to do when one’s head is in a toilet bowl.
Turned out I hadn’t chewed my dinner very well, ha ha ha!
“Are you okay?” Dan asked when I got back to bed.
“No. What was in those cocktails?”
And then I promptly fell asleep.
I stirred briefly at 7:30am when the power went out, and felt Dan get out of bed to get the air conditioning remote (which was on my bedside table) to turn it back on.
Some time after 8am I gave up trying to get back to sleep. The kids were still out for the count, but Dan was waking up.
“How are you feeling?” I whispered.
“Rough.”
Ah, but it was a good night!
He laughed when I told him he’d asked me if I was okay last night, to which I’d replied ‘no’.
“Ha ha ha, that was the extent of my caring. What was the point in me asking? What was I going to do when you said ‘no’?!”
“I didn’t care though, as I went straight to sleep.”
Alex woke up a little after 9am, Abi at 9:45am, and they both went for breakfast.
“Are you guys coming?” they asked.
“Nope.”
We stayed in bed feeling sorry for ourselves. Why do we do this?! I’m sure we would have had just as much fun drinking juice.
“I’m going to go and unplug that icecream machine,” I grumbled.
The machine in question was right outside our wall in the restaurant, and had a rhythmic mechanical drone that would go for a while then stop, then start up again. All. Day. Long.
The kids came back, and we all lay in or on our beds watching Minecraft build videos (there are some seriously talented people out there), two of us nursing headaches and trying to decide if food was a good idea or not.
At 1pm we got up and went to the restaurant. A plate of chips and a chocolate milkshake seemed perfect, but it sure was a struggle!
It was hot, and humid, so I decided it was time to go for a swim. I also thought the water may help with our hangovers. Alex told me the pool was freezing, so Abi and I went into the sea with Dan, while Alex lay on his bed reading.
It was lovely! We found a warmish spot, and just sat there enjoying the peace. Abi even gave us both a sand massage on our legs and feet.
After the swim in the sea, feeling 100% refreshed, I suggested we finally go for a walk to the see the beach on the other side of the island. Our children were incredibly reluctant, but they had no choice.
The walk was 25 minutes, and about 10 minutes into it, it started pouring. And it didn’t stop. Dan and I sought some semi-shelter by some trees, but Alex and Abi packed a massive tantrum and refused to move off the path!
During a patch of slightly-less-heavy rain, we kept going until we reached some more trees, and the rain got heavier again. Small rivulets were getting bigger, and the wind kept changing direction.
“Why are we even going to this stupid beach?” yelled Alex.
“Because we wanted to see it!” replied Dan
“It’s pouring rain and I’m getting wet!”
“I know! Isn’t it fun?!” I said with a grin.
“NO! I’m soaking wet!” Abi complained.
“But you’re in your togs! It doesn’t matter if they get wet!”
We eventually made it to the beach, where the waves were pounding into shore. The kids used a half-built cabin as shelter, while Dan and I went to get a closer look at the water. I was drenched, but I had my togs on so it didn’t matter.
We didn’t stay long, and nobody went swimming, although I checked the temperature of the water, and it was warmer than the other side.
As we walked back, the rain got even heavier, so we stopped again under some trees for a minute.
“Isn’t this awesome?”
“NO! IT’S NOT!”
At another brief lull in the heaviness, we kept going.
“It’s a good thing you tied your hair up today to keep it dry!” I shouted to Abi, who’d stormed off ahead with Alex.
“It’s not dry!” she yelled back.
Ha ha ha ha ha!
“I don’t know why you’re still bothering with your umbrella,” I said to Dan, who was now completely saturated apart from a small patch on his backside.
The small rivulets we’d walked over on the way, were now ankle-deep raging torrents that completely covered the road, and had even washed away half of one road (through multiple rainstorms). We took our jandals off and waded through until we reached ‘dry’ ground again.
And then, the thunder started! Hilarious!!
Back at the hotel, I wrung the water out of the towels we’d carried, and then we all had showers and got dried.
“I honestly thought you’d have enjoyed that walk!” Dan said to our children.
“No!”
“It was loads of fun!”
“No it wasn’t!”
“What about when your jandals started to float away?”
“Mine started to float away too!” I added.
Lazy Beach, as it was called, was lovely, and I’m sure it would be far more enjoyable in better weather.
The walk had helped with our hangovers, but it also used up all our energy. At 5pm we walked to a shop up the beach to get some icecreams, and passed a hostel/pub sign advertising the live DJ and dance party on tonight.
“Think we’ll give that one a miss, eh?” I laughed.
At 6:30pm we went to the restaurant for dinner; I was pretty hungry, but the thought of eating a large meal didn’t appeal. We were all also starting to fade.
Abi and I shared some fried rice, and I also had some stuffed mushrooms. I was expecting large portobello mushrooms, but I got eight stuffed button mushrooms! They were very tasty, and my initial disappointment was quickly replaced with gratitude, as the thought of eating more was less than appealing.
We went back to our room where we got to listen to the icecream machine, the restaurant music, and the diners, coming through the wall - that’s one definite negative about this room. Why they thought it was a good idea to put the family rooms next to the restaurant, we’ll never know.
Day 422 - 6 Sep ‘24 - Koh Rong Sanloem to Sihanoukville. The funny thing with hangovers is you never know how the next night’s sleep is going to go. You’re either super tired, and crash, or you’re super tired then get a burst of energy, and don’t get to sleep.
Other than the apparently scheduled power shut-off at 7:30am, that was possibly the best sleep we’d had since arriving. And with no immediate need to get up, we didn’t go for breakfast until after 9:30am.
It rained on and off, of course, while we were packing our rucksacks, and we all fervently hoped it wouldn’t be raining when it came time to leave.
We checked out at 12pm, and were taken to the pier on the back of a tractor-trailer type of transportation. We’d watched them every day while here, loading and offloading people and goods. They were built from the front wheels of a tractor, with a small engine connected to long steering handles, and then a long flatbed trailer.
We got to the pier approximately two minutes later, ready for our ferry, which hadn’t arrived, and wouldn’t depart until 1:15pm.
“What on earth is the point of telling people to get to the pier 45 minutes before it even arrives?” I complained to Dan.
“I know, it’s stupid.”
“I mean, I get we have to be here early, but this is ridiculous.”
“I guess it’s just like having to be early for a train or plane or bus.”
“Yes, okay, but those things are generally there already, waiting to load!”
Then, a man came out of the booth on the pier, to tell us the ferry would be delayed 15-20 minutes because of the stormy weather.
Wonderful!
Cue two moaning, hungry, sulking, self-entitled little shits. At least it wasn’t raining, as there was minimal horizontal shelter and zero vertical ones.
The ferry must have made up some time, as it arrived at 1:20pm. All the tourists apart from us, rushed to the end of the pier with their suitcases and bags to make sure they were the first ones on, obviously forgetting about all the people and luggage onboard that had to get off…
“You’d think they’d know,” Dan muttered to me quietly. “They came over on the boat after all.”
The ferry was smaller than the one we came out on, much to Alex’s concern.
“Great, it’s smaller, so it can capsize easier.”
“Being smaller means it will be faster,” I countered.
“Bigger boats have bigger engines,” he retorted, then finished with “I hate boats”.
The ride was just as choppy as before, with a decent amount of ups-and-downs as well as side-to-sides. At least this one had hard sides though, so we didn’t get rained on or splashed.
We docked and bought some sushi triangles from the 7-11, and then had a rather extended taxi ride to our accommodation. The address wasn’t very clear (no numbers or sign posts), and our driver didn’t think it was a finished building as it was down a gravel road and had unpainted parts.
He called their phone, and the lady who answered checked our booking and said we were supposed to be at a different building on the other side of the city.
The next apartment building was on top of a very fancy shopping mall, and miles away from the beach (even though the ad said 450m away from the beach).
We met the lady from the phone, who had another look at the booking and said that this place was the wrong building, and the first place was the correct one!
“There are four apartment complexes with the same name, but the manager only provided one phone number,” she explained.
And so, we turned around and went back to the first place, except this time we actually got out the car to check (which Dan and I would have done the first time, but the driver wouldn’t let us).
Once we’d checked into our room, we went to the 22nd floor to go for a swim in the top storey infinity pool!
It was blowing a gale, which caused the water to be sprayed back, and the water was also freezing cold. Not in the least bit inviting, but Alex and Abi still went in for a quick swim. They were out five minutes later.
The view was amazing, and we were sure it would have been fantastic on a calm and sunny day, but we called it quits and went back to our room.
Our apartment complex was surrounded by empty lots and abandoned buildings mid-construction. In fact, a conservative estimate would be every third apartment building was an abandoned one. Some were partially completed, some were merely the concrete shells. One building we saw only had windows on the top three floors, and people were living there! Another had been abandoned long enough for ivy to take over the crane that was still standing next to it.
Before Covid, the Chinese were heavily investing in Cambodia’s largest port city, building massive apartment complexes and urban housing developments everywhere. The pandemic caused everything to stop, and the subsequent downturn in the economy has meant the Chinese have pulled out of completing them. They had continued to be charged their lease fees, of course, which now total millions of dollars, and with the value of everything having dropped, they are asking for 50% of the debt to be waived as well as a restructure of the lease to reflect the current lesser value.
Sadly, the abandoned buildings everywhere cast an ugly blight on the appearance of Sihanoukville, and I don’t see it changing any time soon.
We left the apartment to go to a nearby small shopping plaza, and walked past a lovely public garden with a large shrine that people had put offerings on.
On the other side of it, there was a beautiful pagoda-like structure with a golden urn in the middle, and four long, golden Naga running up to it.
At the shopping mall we decided to make dinner easy and just have some KFC.
“I wonder how many countries we’ve tried KFC in now?” Dan said to me as we ate.
“I’m not sure, but this has got an incredible crunchy crust!”
When we got back to the apartment, we put Alex and Abi to bed, then at 8:30pm got a knock on the door from two of the apartment employees. This was quite a surprise to us, as the apartment front door was locked, and they had unlocked it to knock on our room door, which was closed by nothing more substantial than a bathroom privacy switch.
“Do you need something?”
“No?”
“My manager called and said you need something.”
“No. We don’t need anything thank you.”
“Stupid manager…” the girl said under her breath.
“We’ve just got to get something out of the cupboard.”
“Okay.”
The cupboard in question was in the small space between the front door and our room door, and had a wall-to-wall opaque window looking into our room. The light went on and they rummaged around for a while, then switched it off, left, and locked the front door again. They came back two more times to do the same thing.
“That’s really weird, and not exactly ideal! I don’t feel particularly private and secure now!”
“No,” Dan agreed.
Later, the kids were up to their usual shenanigans at bedtime. It seems that the longer we are all in one room together, the quicker the temperature flare, and the less tolerance we have. It’s a difficult balancing act - save money by all sleeping in one room and deal with the consequences, or spend two or three times more money to have two or three bedrooms and some peace.
When it came time to switch the lights off, I told them to stop reading their kindles.
No response.
“Stop reading I said!”
No response.
“Right! Give me your kindles now.”
“What? Why?” asked Alex.
“Because I asked you to stop reading!”
“Stop overreacting!”
(This was his current response to being told off, and was unbelievably infuriating).
“I’m not overreacting! I asked you to stop reading and you didn’t!”
“You’re overreacting!”
“I’M NOT OVERREACTING. And if you continue to speak to me like that there will be severe consequences.”
Parenting in today’s society really sucks arse. I mean really, what severe consequences could I possibly administer?
The bunk beds were old and metal, and every single small movement meant lots of squeaking. Abi was on the top bunk, and kept complaining that Alex was scratching his arm on the wall. Alex was complaining about Abi making lots of noise.
They were warned and warned and warned.
“Right, Abi, get onto the sofa bed. No more noise from either of you, or you’ll be standing up until WE go to bed,” Dan said.
Not even two minutes later…
“Stop it Alex! Mummy, he’s pulling my duvet!”
“THAT’S IT. BOTH OF YOU OUT OF BED NOW.”
“No, please, give us another chance!”
“You’ve already HAD the chances. Now it’s consequence time!”
“I’m not getting out,” said Alex.
“Yes, you are. Get out of bed.”
“Why do I have to get out of bed?”
“Because you were told to.”
“I’m not the one who was making noise.”
“You were both told to be quiet or you’d be standing up.”
“I’m not getting out of bed.”
“Get out of bed, now.”
“No.”
“Get. Out. Of. Bed. NOW.”
“NO!”
“NOW, ALEX!”
Argumentative little shit.
Alex was stood against one wall, and Abi against another at the opposite end of the room. Where they stood for almost an hour, yawning away, while we watched a movie on Dan’s computer.
Dan eventually allowed them to go to bed, where they dutifully lay quietly and went to sleep.
Day 423 - 7 Sep ‘24 - Sihanoukville to Ho Chi Minh City. That would have had to be the worst night’s sleep we’ve had, potentially for months.
The bed linens were the polyester satin variety, so were really hot. The continental quilt was not big enough for the bed, and also really thin. The wind blew all night, and howled through a couple of pipes somewhere, one of which made a sound like someone slowly deflating a balloon by pulling the rubber tight. It was so loud, I could hear it through my earplugs.
Nobody, and I mean nobody, had a good sleep. When the alarm went off at 6:30am, we were all annoyed and yet strangely relieved that we could get up and leave.
“That sleep was shite,” I said to Dan. “Not only shite, but shite with a capital SHITE, and not even just a capital S!”
Our taxi driver picked us up at 7:30am, and during the 45 minute drive to the airport, everyone sat in complete silence. There was still plenty of noise though, from the god-awful caterwauling that passed for some Cambodian lounge singers, blaring out from the driver’s head unit.
We had some breakfast at the only shop in the airport, although neither Alex nor Abi ate the fruit they’d asked for, as they were bruised and didn’t taste nice.
The flight was uneventful, but when we landed, we came in pretty fast, and even taxied through the airport faster than we’ve ever done before. There was another plane behind us that Dan reckoned must have been descending before it had runway clearance, as we had only just turned off the runway when we saw it almost halfway along!
The airport must have had a lot of planes to deal with quickly, and this was made evident by the hour-long queue to get through passport control.
By the time we got to the luggage, our flight’s bags were being taken off the carousel and put in a pile beside it. This had already happened at two other carousels! Something, somewhere, needs to be improved in their systems.
We got a Grab ride to our apartment in District 1 of Ho Chi Minh City, a lovely, quiet room with a view. After switching on the air conditioners, and finally doing a full load of washing (we’d all been wearing clothes from our dirty washing bags…ew!), we went for a walk to a nearby supermarket to get drinks, snacks, and breakfast supplies, took them back to the apartment, then went out again to find some food for lunch.
“I’m annoyed,” said Dan, “because when we saw the supermarket had nothing for lunch, I didn’t think we’d carry on shopping!”
It was almost 3pm by the time we bought some sushi triangles from a 7-11, which was only five minutes’ walk past the supermarket.
We ate our snacks (no longer lunch) at the apartment, and in the evening once again walked the same street as before, to get some dinner.
A general rule of thumb regarding eating establishments, is ‘eat where the locals eat’. If a place looks nice but is empty, and next door looks rundown but is busy, you don’t go to the nice looking one!
And so, we found ourselves sitting in a loud restaurant filled with people in their late teens or early twenties, and were presented with an extensive menu that had items containing chicken cartilage, beef sinew, and deep fried frogs.
Dan opted for the lemongrass steamed prawns, Alex and I shared two-minute noodles and vegetables, and Abi shared her glass noodles and vegetables with Dan, at the recommendation of the waiter.
It was all very tasty, and Dan’s prawns were delicious! I’d warned him not to eat the lemongrass stalks, but they had imparted a very subtle flavour to the prawns, one which I’ll need to replicate at home…somehow!
Day 424 - 8 Sep ‘24 - Ho Chi Minh City. Our apartment was lovely, and also very quiet, but the light shone through the curtains at 6:30am. However, today was our city-visiting day, so we had no rush to start.
We eventually left our apartment around 10:30am, and went to the Independence Palace, also known as the Reunification Palace.
I confess to having hardly any knowledge of the history of Vietnam, and I’m pretty sure that a lot of people wouldn’t unless they were a history buff.
A super brief history lesson, part one: The French colonised Indochina, ruled Vietnam for almost 100 years, built the beautiful Norodom Palace, Vietnamese resistance grew, a failed cout resulted in partial destruction of the palace, the president demolished it and rebuilt the Independence Palace as it is today.
Built in the 1960s, it looked more like a government office building than a palace. The columns around the outside were supposed to represent bamboo, and the layout was designed on Chinese symbolism.
The state rooms were a combination of luxury and austerity, with beautiful carpets and furniture, yet minimal decorations.
Upstairs were more state rooms, and further on were the private quarters. The president’s bedroom had a closet that was the same length of our house, and a bathroom with top-of-the-range-in-it’s-day yellow Formica sinks and cupboards!
Next was a cinema/theatre, library, games room, and First Lady’s reception rooms. On the top storey was the helicopter pad, complete with helicopter!
We then walked down multiple flights of stairs to get to their bunker, and the first room still had some tactical maps on the wall (behind protective plastic sheets now).
In the rooms were lots of radio equipment, some other types of communication devices, and a room filled with some extremely large typewriters.
Outside the palace was a rather large circular lawn that had a fountain in the middle, and right beside it was a newly married couple getting their photos taken.
“Oh my god! Oh my god!” I suddenly exclaimed.
“What?” asked Dan.
“They’ve just spread her dress out over the grass, and he’s walking on it!”
“They’ve asked him to do that for photos.”
“Obviously! But he didn’t take his shoes off! Take your shoes off! Take your shoes off!”
Of course, the man didn’t hear me; I wasn’t yelling, and he was miles away.
“There will be footprints up the back of her dress. She’s going to go for her first dance, and she’ll see the footprint!”
“And there will be grass pressed on the inside of her dress too!” added Dan, joining in to the spirit of the conversation.
“The dry cleaner is going to have a field day!”
There was another small exhibition room that had lots of pictures of people, and their names, and then someone was killed, and someone else had an escape route, but we were completely confused about who was who, and who they actually were! It was written in Vietnamese and English, but just wasn’t clear to us, as we didn’t know the history.
One striking photo was of a monk who self-immolated in protest at the treatment (read: decapitation) of Buddhists by the government, on 11 May 1963. According to eyewitness accounts of the photographer, the monk never moved or made a sound as his body was consumed by the fire.
After the exhibition, we walked across the road to a famous street food hall. Very clearly set up for tourists, and not at all like the one we’d been to in Singapore, we still all had yummy lunches. Alex and I tried the Banh Mi (a baguette with meat, salad, and sauce), Abi had sushi, and Dan had two Chinese steamed buns with pork and chicken. We were too busy enjoying our food to even take a picture of them!
“So, where to next?” Dan asked.
“There’s the Ho Chi Minh museum, which is mostly about him, there’s a park in his name, there’s the Vietnam History Museum, which is about the civilisation and society, or there’s the War Remnants Museum, which is about the Vietnam War. That’s the one I think we should go to, since we clearly don’t know anything about it!”
The museum opened in 1975, and has had numerous names. It started as the Exhibition House for US and Puppet Crimes, then the Museum of Chinese and American Warcrimes, then Exhibition House for Crimes of War and Aggression, before it changed to its current name in 1995 following normalisation between American and Vietnamese diplomatic relations.
Outside the museum were tanks, fighter jets, and even a Chinook helicopter. One of the artillery machines was a howitzer, which we’d seen the recovered shells of at the HeroRats in Cambodia.
The museum was dedicated to the American War, as it is quite rightly known here. We hired audio guides each, which were awesome, and walked around the sweltering museum - their air conditioning was broken, and fans in every room were not keeping up with the heat and numerous sweaty bodies.
A super brief history lesson, part two: 1954 Geneva Agreement said France had to leave Vietnam, Vietnam was split in two to stop Ho Chi Minh (in the north) from total communist rule over the whole country, general election to be held 1956, France didn’t want to leave, America disagreed with the Agreement as they didn’t want a communist hold over the tin and tungsten in Vietnam (yes, seriously, that’s what their main concern was), France left, America put in a puppet government in South Vietnam, America sent in troops for support, puppet government failed, America didn’t leave and sent in more troops.
We walked through room after room of photographs that documented the atrocities committed by the US Army. And they were numerous.
Waterboarding, beatings, dragging people behind tanks, filing people into helicopters then pushing them out when they didn’t answer questions…
There were details of one of the most horrific crimes, the massacre of My Lai on 16 March 1968. The platoon had been ordered to kill everyone, and I mean, everyone. The village the platoon went to that morning, had old men and women, and mothers with children. The soldiers shot them as they sat or walked peacefully. They threw grenades into the sewer pipes hiding families. They shot women, who shielded their children, and when the children climbed out from under their dead mothers, they were shot as well. They raped women and children, including 10-year-olds, then mutilated their bodies. They even killed pregnant women.
Not one weapon was found. Nobody had attacked or threatened the army. There were no soldiers there at all.
504 innocent people murdered.
They only stopped when a US army helicopter offering air support, saw injured civilians and radioed twice to ask if help was needed.
When he landed and asked again, he was told the only help the civilians needed was a grenade.
The photographer that was documenting the atrocities held onto his film for two years out of fear, and then published them in a newspaper. The massacre brought worldwide condemnation and domestic backlash. Only one of the soldiers was charged with murder, and for a mere 22 counts. He was found guilty and sentenced to life, but just two days later President Nixon pardoned him, and his sentence was commuted to four years home detention.
And then, of course, was the diabolical Agent Orange (dioxin), the insanely toxic herbicide the US Army dropped on the forests. Most herbicides take 1-4 months to disperse, but dioxin takes 15-20 years. It is estimated just 85 grams of dioxin can kill a population of eight million.
(I didn’t take any photos, as they’re readily available online, plus, extremely confronting to look at).
Over 4.8 million Vietnamese were exposed to Agent Orange, and over 3 million became victims of it. Not only that, but the effects are STILL being found four generations later.
Dioxin causes complex and diverse effects on all areas of the body including skin cancer, skin and liver problems, thyroid, diabetes; causes disorders to respiration, circulation, digestion, endocrine, and nerves; and plays a role as a genetic and chromosome mutating factor leading to birth defects and reproductive complications.
Children were born with horrific skeletal deformities, partial paralysis, conjoined, mental retardation, cancers, no eyes, deafness. The photos were graphic. No legs but with miniature feet attached to buttocks, limbs that were twisted into obscure shapes and angles, skin covered in blisters ranging in size from marbles to oranges, heads twice the size as normal, and faces that looked like they had half melted off the head.
Generations later, they are STILL seeing the effects. One photo was of a distraught couple in a hospital in 2003, as they looked at their newborn conjoined daughters; their grandparents had been exposed to Agent Orange. That’s what is also cruel about the chemical, is that it didn’t just affect the people then, but continues to this day.
The American government pays BILLIONS each year to compensate the victims and their families. And of course, American soldiers were also affected, with their own children being born with deformities or missing limbs.
Add on to this the napalm and phosphorous bombs, the ‘free fire’ zones where any Vietnamese person was a fair target, as well as so much more, and we left the museum feeling utterly disgusted. There was an Independent War Crimes Tribunal against the numerous crimes the US government sanctioned; the verdict was unanimous that they were guilty, but it wasn’t a law-based trial like Nuremberg, merely a ‘public exposure and accountability’ tribunal, so nothing happened. Nothing.
(To be fair, the museum was incredibly skewed, and there was nothing at all about what people in the North Vietnam army were possibly doing to their prisoners or villagers).
America eventually left Vietnam, the North won, and the country was reunified. Today, they are still under a single party rule, and much like Cambodia and Thailand, you can’t have an opinion against the government.
We went back to the apartment after that, and all had showers to wash away the sweat that was dripping everywhere. The museum was seriously roasting!
Time for dinner. We walked up a different street tonight with the plan of stopping in at anywhere that looked interesting.
The first place was selling massive snails in different sauces, so we just kept walking. The second place, we went into after a man on the street said it was good, but nobody felt like having soup, so we kept going. We also walked past an upmarket restaurant, and then a sushi bar.
We turned a corner and found ourselves on a street with bright lights and loads of restaurants. The next place was Singaporean, but since we’d eaten Singaporean food while in Singapore, we walked past that one too!
Right next door was a restaurant selling everything you could think of, but also Vietnamese dishes. Finally!
“I rather like the sharing plate idea,” said Dan, as we selected bits from everyone’s dinner.
“I agree! It’s lots of fun, but a lot of work making different dinners.”
After we’d eaten, we carried on down the road and discovered we were on the Bui Vien Walking Street, where we had walked yesterday afternoon.
Oh my goodness, what a difference! It was loud, loud, loud! Competing nightclubs on opposite sides of the street, with girls dancing on plinths, and neon lights flashing constantly.
We were constantly getting directed by staff to go inside, or sit down on their street seats and have a drink. Each place had at least three staff with their arms out to almost block your path.
Still, it was pretty fun to experience!
On the way back to our apartment, we bought some sushi triangles for Abi to eat tomorrow, as we were off on a tour of the Mekong River Delta, and then wasn’t sure if Abi would be able to eat the provided lunch.
Day 425 - 9 Sep ‘24 - Ho Chi Minh City (Mekong Delta). We got picked up outside our apartment at 8am, and joined 18 other people in the bus, for our day trip to the Mekong River Delta.
I had previously wondered if taking our children to a pub quiz was good or bad parenting, but this morning those fears were allayed, when we had a pop quiz.
“How long is the Mekong River?” our tour guide Harry asked.
“4900km!” Abi yelled out.
“Well done! A coconut for you! And does anyone know anything else about the river?”
“It flows through Vietnam, China, Cambodia, Laos, and Thailand!” yelled Alex.
“Oh wow! Well done! A coconut for you, too!”
(Also, an octopus has nine brains and three hearts, the Khmer Rouge took over Cambodia in 1975, Napoleon Bonaparte was born in Corsica, and a howler monkey is the loudest land animal. See? The pub quiz greatly expanded their general knowledge and history)!
Our first stop today was the Vinh Trang Pagoda. It had two massive statues of Buddha - the reclining version and the fat/laughing one.
The Chinese-style pagoda at the back was quite pretty to look at, and had some lovely topiary and statues leading up to it, but the main attraction was the central temple.
Inside was all beautiful dark wood, and carvings that had a fine sheen of gold paint over some of it.
The neon rings around the icon’s head kind of ruined the appearance somewhat, in my opinion.
We didn’t stay too long here before we headed off to the next spot, our boat trip! The Mekong River was very brown, and had loads of water hyacinth bulbs floating along.
We stopped at Unicorn Island, and our first visit was to a honey farm. The bees were small and incredibly calm - they weren’t making any noise, and the people holding the racks of honeycomb didn’t need to use any protective gear or smoke.
The honey tea was delicious - in our glasses we had some honey, pollen, Vietnamese kumquat, and green tea. Yummy! I would definitely have that for a daily drink!
We also got to try royal jelly, which was given to us on a tiny spoon with some honey. The royal jelly was actually quite sour, so we were all glad of the honey.
Around the corner, we all got the opportunity to hold Hamburger, a rather large python! The texture was rather odd - not slimy but kind of rubbery and squishy, and surprisingly heavy.
Our next stop on the island was to try some fruit while listening to traditional music. We had pomelo (kind of like a cross between a grapefruit and a mandarin), guava (which tasted like an underripe vegetable), dragonfruit (always yummy), watermelon, and longan (a small, sweet, jelly-like ball with a hard, black centre).
Next we got to experience a traditional boat ride on a narrow riverlet under an archway of bamboo. The water was only about 50cm deep, and Alex was even given a paddle to help. It was lovely and cool under the arched bamboo, and quite pretty.
On the way, we saw lots of fish walking on the land, the mudskippers! Some of them were jumping, and some were using their flippers to move around. So cool! (How many can you spot?)
We boarded our large boat, and went to Dragon Island, where we had a delicious lunch. We’d been asked on the bus if we had any dietary requirements; concerned about types of ‘meat’ we might get, Alex and I opted for vegetarian. Instead of chicken, we were given crispy fried tofu, which was like a salty crisp, and was perfect against the garlic sautéed morning glory (water spinach). We also all got to have a fresh rice paper spring roll with elephant ear fish, which was prepared for us at the table.
My concern about meat was not unfounded. Here in Vietnam, dogs are still eaten. In fact, Harry told us that when he was 12, he came home from school to find his family dog had been sold to the restaurant, and the money was used for his school fees.
Dubious about his story, he also told us about a couple of his friends who had similar stories; one girl’s family had an important guest for dinner, and when the girl asked where their dog was, she was told it was on the table! Harry also said that lots of families don’t keep dogs as pets, but more as future money-earners once the dog was large enough.
After lunch, we got to go for a short bike ride. By the time we got to the bikes, the selection was limited to the old style of cruiser, which I actually rather enjoyed. The path was lovely and flat, wonderfully shaded by the trees, and we sped past lots of houses.
“Are we in some kind of race I don’t know about?” I yelled to Dan and Abi in front, and Alex even further ahead.
We unfortunately only had five minutes to ride before we had to turn back, and we were two minutes late boarding the boat, but at least we weren’t last! That was a couple of Japanese girls, whom Harry had to go and look for.
Our next stop was to a coconut candy factory.
We watched Harry crack into a coconut, peel off the outer layer, and once he’d removed the husk, split the coconut it perfectly in half! We also got to try some of the coconut candy, which was chewy like toffee and a delicate flavour.
I watched some people wrap up the candies, and they were super fast - only five seconds per sweet! No gloves, though.
But the craziest thing was trying the ‘happy water’. This was an alcohol that had fermented snakes in it! I balked at the idea, but Dan gave it a go…
I tried the banana spirit, which was in a second fermentation canister, but there sure wasn’t any banana flavour, just pure alcohol, or nail polish remover, hard to tell!
After that, our time on the tour was almost over. Back on the boat, we were all given a fresh coconut to drink, and once we’d docked and visited the ‘happy house’ (otherwise known as the toilet), we got back on the bus and returned to Ho Chi Minh City. A cold wet wipe given to each of us as we walked to our seats, was wonderfully refreshing.
Harry had been a fantastic tour guide, with lots of the standard lame jokes to keep us entertained.
We were dropped off at our hotel, and after a quick rest, we grabbed a car back to the Ben Nghe Street Food stalls for dinner. Again, the food was all lovely, but Dan was the bravest, and went for the soft shell crab in a steam bun.
“Oh! It’s a soft shell crab!” he exclaimed.
Sure enough, it was the ENTIRE soft shell crab in a bun!
He had a couple of bites of the legs and claws and declared you couldn’t taste the shell at all (and I can confirm this, well done me), but his next concern was the contents of the body.
“Mind over matter,” he grimaced, as the contents were definitely ALL still there, “but my stomach is definitely in knots.”
…
“Oh, well done!” I congratulated him when he finished.
“Thanks, but I’m not really wanting to eat anything else now!” he laughed.
Day 426 - 10 Sep ‘24 - Ho Chi Minh City (Cu Chi). Today we went on a tour with the same company as yesterday, to Cu Chi tunnels.
Our tour guide, Jack, was nowhere near as entertaining as Harry was yesterday. He gave us a quick history lesson about the Cu Chi tunnels, but it digressed quite a lot towards communism, and started to sound an awful lot more like a lecture.
More than one of us tuned out.
We made a short stop at a lacquered goods workshop, where disabled workers (affected by Agent Orange) made a living making eggshell and mother-of-pearl, lacquered art.
It was an impressive skill, slowly breaking the egg shell into smaller and smaller pieces to fit the spaces, and we could see how long it must take each piece to be made.
Even rubbing off the layers of lacquer to expose the art underneath, looked like it took quite a lot of elbow grease.
We were then shown into their display room and shop, and I could easily have spent a fortune on some truly beautiful art. Exquisitely detailed and elaborate, the paintings ranged from six inch squares, to four consecutive boards measuring almost two metres long!
I had spotted one in the workshop I quite liked, but it wasn’t anywhere in the store - turned out it was the only one there! It was pricier than I was willing to pay, but we were told they weren’t sold anywhere else, and 50 per cent of the money went to the disabled workers.
We then got back in the bus and arrived at our destination - the Cu Chi tunnels of Ben Dinh.
Our first visit stop was to watch what could only be described as a propaganda video. Filmed in the 1960s, it featured clips of the Viet Cong laying trip wires and booby traps, building land mines from unexploded bombs dropped on them, living in the tunnels and underground rooms, and even showed a schoolgirl shooting her rifle.
The narrator told of three women who were awarded medals for killing Americans: “they were never afraid of hardships and always found a way to kill Americans”.
(Having women and children shooting at you, we could understand the US army’s fear of deception by villagers, and it certainly goes a long way to justifying the ‘free fire’ zones, but it still didn’t excuse their massacre at My Lai).
The US troops have said that the area of Cu Chi was like being attacked by ghosts. They would clear an area only to be shot in the back, and when they turned around, there would be nobody there.
We then got to see how this was possible, when we were taken to one of the escape hatches. Barely wider than Alex, we each had a turn dropping down into it, closing the hatch, then lifting it back up before climbing out.
It was definitely a tight squeeze, but once the hatch was pulled over the hole, and leaves spread on top, it was completely invisible. Soldiers would walk past or over it, and be none the wiser, then a Viet Cong would jump up behind them and shoot.
We got to see some of the booby traps, and they were vicious. Ground panels set up like a see-saw, with spikes underneath, potentially poisoned. Rotating barrels of spikes, window traps with spikes pointing down so that when you fell through, you couldn’t get back up. So many different gruesome ways to get injured.
Next came some of the tunnel entrances, barely big enough to fit a child. In fact, the Tunnel Rats (America-and-friends forces chosen for this speciality service) had to be smaller than 5’5” to be able to go through the tunnels.
There were 250km of tunnels, and under the ground were hospitals, kitchens, and living quarters. The tunnels were small and tight, with only a few ventilation shafts, and were designed to be used only when the enemy was attacking above ground. At night, when the attacks stopped, the people would leave the tunnels. They were not set up to live in for months at a time like the ones we went to in Turkey.
We got to have a short break at a cafe/souvenir shop, while some people chose to fire AK-47s and M-16s. And what did we see in the store? More of the lacquer art, and at less than half the price!
“I am absolutely furious!” I said to Dan. “Look! This piece is twice the size as the one we bought, and almost one third of the price!”
“Well, the only way to look at it, is that the price we paid was a donation to the disabled people.”
“Fine. But still…!”
It was then time to go into the tunnels. They had been widened and enlarged for tourists, but dear god, they were small. So narrow, and really short. I got through it in a weird bent-in-half shuffle.
The first tunnel we went into had exit hatches every 20 metres, and Abi wanted to get out at the first one. Dan didn’t want to, but offered to go, so I said I’d go with her instead. Abi then changed her mind, and we carried on the rest of the way.
“Come on mummy,” Abi called with encouragement. “Hurry up!”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming! I’m carrying two pairs of sunglasses and my camera, and trying to crawl with only one hand!”
It was 100 metres long, and it got narrower and lower as it went on. There were a few spots when the ground sloped or dropped down, and also a couple of places we had to climb up shafts using footholds dug into the walls.
By the time we got out, we were all puffing and red and sweating. And that was the tunnel with air conditioning!
“Do you want to go in another one?” Jack asked. “It’s shorter, just 50 metres, but no air conditioning.”
“Is it one way?” I asked, concerned about getting lost, as we’d seen dead-ended offshoots in the previous tunnel.
“Yes, just one route.”
Only five of us went this time; our family and one Australian lady behind me.
Holy crap, it was even narrower and lower than the previous one, and with no air conditioning. This time I gave in to crawling on hands and knees on multiple occasions, and then saw Dan moving along like a commando, hands and feet on the ground.
“Aah! That’s much better! Can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!”
The tunnel seemed to go on forever, and I was extremely glad to get out and breathe fresh air. My trousers were dirty along the shins, my hands were filthy, and the back of my tshirt was apparently a much darker shade of grey (so Dan informed me once we got home). Sweat was literally dripping off our faces, and our arms were glistening.
We left the Cu Chi tunnels and went to a local restaurant and cooking school, where I finally got to try some beef pho. It was very tasty, but I only managed to eat half.
The bus trip back to Ho Chi Minh City was very quiet, with almost everyone asleep. We were the last ones to get dropped off; our tour guide practically asked for tips, but he was pretty rubbish, so he didn’t get any from us.
It started raining when we got back to our apartment, and then there was an intense thunderstorm, where lightning flashed near constantly for almost two hours!
Nobody wanted to go out in a thunderstorm, so we ordered in some pizza and chips, and some gluten free pasta for Abi!
Now, to wait out the night to find out if it was, indeed, gluten free…!
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