Somehow managing to summon up some energy, I started chatting with some people on my bus. After an hours drive, we arrived at the eerie sight, set amongst plantation forests, near the border of Cambodia. The area was frequently targeted during the Vietnam war, so in order to protect the people, the community and Viet Cong (a south vietnamese political army) built a complex system of tunnels as well as weaponry and traps. The tunnels were equipped to house all of the villagers and even had living quarters and access to water. However, disease was rife and many lost their lives to malaria. (Despite this, one woman apparently managed to spend 27 years down in the tunnels). Some tunnels are still open to the public, and we all had the chance to crawl through a 40m stretch of one of them. Cramped can't even begin to describe how I felt. I know the Vietnamese are short in stature but it must have been a struggle, especially when you are living with hundreds of others. My knees couldn't support my weight so I had to literally crawl, making the journey somewhat longer. It was also surprisingly warm down there, and it wasn't even the hottest part of the day. It is horrible to imagine what existence must have been like for those involved in the war. An introductory video even highlighted how young girls were shooting riffles. However, the severe bias towards all Americans was a bit overplayed. People were awarded medals for being 'American killers' and there was an over-emphasis on the 'American imperialists' (although I can agree with them on that one).
Returning back to HCM, feeling quite affected, me and Mark, another American I met, stupidly decided to follow our experience by a trip to the War Remnants Museum. It is definitely worth a trip, but not straight after the tunnels.
The museum comprised several sections. An outside gallery housing military vehicles and a display showing you the POW camp on Phu Quoc Island; a gallery in the entrance displaying all the posters and protests of support Vietnam from countries around the world; a room displaying images of the victims of agent orange; a section commemorating all the photographers who lost their lives and a display of their finest work; and, a few others of a similar description. Each room evoked different emotions, whether it be compassion, joy, horror or sympathy. It was beautifully executed and although very anti-American, it was totally justified. The brutality and bloodshed cost thousands of lives and is still affecting people today, whether it be due to the loss of a loved one, or the defects that has become commonplace amongst offspring of former soldiers due to the use of US defoliants.
We must have spent about 2 hours in the War Remnants Museum. It took a lot out of us and our walk home was fairly quite. We needed a drink. A road up from where we were staying was a strip of local bars and cheap eats. We sat down on plastic chairs made for children and ordered to large Saigon beers. We got chatting to some locals and attracted many a hawker. I normally maintain patience with hawkers for a few minutes before I have to say 'No, I do not need that plastic Jesus, now go pray on someone else', but with Mark I managed to have a joke with the locals and thoroughly enjoyed the hassle. He has a very comical persona and managed to make light of all of it. For example, when a lady approached us with a tower of books, instead of staying 'No, I'm not interested', he'd respond with 'sorry love, I can't read'.
Laughing all the way back to my hotel, I got changed and went out to meet up with Mark and another couple we had met on our trip. We all did the very westerner thing and choose a buffet pizza dinner as supposed to some local Pho, and then headed for some drinks. Mark recommened a place he had seen earlier and with some hesitation me and the couple decided to trust his advice and follow. We were not dissapointed. He took us to a rodeo-style American bar that was full of locals and ladies dressed as cow girls. A few ex-pats lurked in the corner, buying the waitresses drinks and eyeing them up and down, but it was mainly for the unlikely rock crowd that inhabited HCM. What was more is that instead of some kind of cheesey country music, we were greeted with a Axl Rose impersonated with long hair, bandana and ripped jeans. For a minute a genuinely thought it was THE Axl Rose, but on closer inspection realised it was in fact a local. He was one part of a 7+ member band called The Bad, The Ugly and they were bloody fantastic. Nearly all took it in turn rocking out to a classic and they all had voices to match. Although we ended up paying a fortune for our drinks, the free entertainment was well worth it!
My 24 hours in Ho Chi Minh were far too short, but I loved every second.
Rush hour in HCMC
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