Where was I? After the temple we went to the Cu Chi tunnels which are a network of hundreds of kilometres of underground tunnels dug out of the earth and used by the Viet Cong guerrillas to hide and move around the area. The original tunnels measure 60cm by 80cm but they've doubled the size of a stretch of 100m for us fatty foreigners. Even so, you're crawling along in pitch darkness in a hot wee hole under the ground. I now know I am definitely NOT a Womble. For at least ten metres I was completely freaking out and was desperately relieved to reach the surface again.
We also got to see a variety of nasty traps in the jungle around the tunnels. As you walk around you can hear the sound of gunshots not too far in the distance. Highly atmospheric, but not scary enough to have me jumping back in the burrow. It's not the American Imperialists coming to get us, it's the shooting range where for a dollar a bullet you can fire your choice of machine gun or assault rifle as many times as you like. They're making too much money out of too many guys who've seen Platoon too many times, if you ask me. Back at HCMC there was more of those guys at the War Remnants museum. It was worth a visit for the excellent collection of photo journalism by photographers who dies during the war. Or you can get your piccie taken beside a chopper. Whatever does it for you.
I'm sad to leave Saigon. The people have been friendly and helpful. Everyone comments on my white skin, but not like at home, they don't laugh at me or think it's ugly. Our guide on the trip says to me "you're Scottish, but you have Irish skin". I certainly do. :o) One stunningly gorgeous Vietnamese girl tells me she is envious of my soft, pale skin - "like a baby" she says, and she thinks my mousy brown roots and blobby nose are perfect. I take the compliment as it is intended, but it still makes me sad. The shops in all the countries I've been to are filled with bleaching creams, but SPFs are hard to come by.
