We said nha thanks to Nha Trang in the end. It was a party town where we couldn't find the party - and when we did it was crap. Crazy Kim's bar was a strange place, but with much-appreciated English commentary for the WC. The eponymous owner is the self-styled 'pedophile buster' (sic), and has a program whereby patrons can sign up to give volunteer English classes. It's well-intentioned but not entirely well-delivered due to a lack of syllabus or structure. Still, the kids seemed to enjoy Oli's lesson. We visited the beach - full of locals and walked around the fantastically out-of-date Oceanic Institute peering at things in formaldehyde or stuffed. The beach was the only place to avoid the otherwise-ubiquitous touts, bizarrely, who were literally queueing up five or six deep to sell sunglasses/lighters/fans.
The bus to Da Lat was possibly our worst yet, with back crunching bumps as we jockeyed with steamrollers and trucks on the not-quite-finished new road. We quickly learned what the bag provided with the water was for as kids started vomiting left, right and centre as we snaked round seemingly endless hairpins. Da Lat itself was immeasurably more pleasurable and it was a relief not just to get out of th bus but to be in this wonderful cool hill-station town. We quickly checked in at our hotel, then stayed around enjoying the architecture - we were in a tourist attraction! The Crazy House is an endlessly delightful Dali-esque guesthouse and personal obsession of Hang Nga. However, staying in a sight brings troubles - the incessant rattling of the door from 7am and the tourists peering into our room but all of this pales against being alone there at night under the stars and sleeping in a bear's cave. We were also taken by Hang's friend's place - The Cafe With 100 Roofs, which was a hoarder's dream.
The delights of Da Lat didn't end there though - a day out with the easy riders in the Central highlands took us through fantastic (very Euro) scenery to coffee plantations, silk weavers and rice-wine makers. After lunch we took a precipitous scramble to the base of a waterfall and got soaked - not that it mattred by then as the heavens had opened anyway. We were definitely in rainy season by this point.
Our final stop in Nam was Saigon which was a good stop for some chores. We got our final jabs from a difficult doctor, sorted out this blog and got things done. Of course, there's lots to do in Saigon too - the macabre war museum being a highlight, though uncomfortable at points. Compared with the chest-thumping of Hanoi or the selective memories of Nagasaki it was well put together and very powerful. Vivid images and stories of the ravages wreaked by Agent Orange, endless pictures of war and destruction and gruesome documentation of death. It was a fitting memorial to the thousands of dead.
The Cu Chi tunnels were a different kind of thought-provoking - come and crawl through the tunnels, see the lethal traps and shoot a gun! It's run by the rmy, which probably explains a bit. While most of it was tasteless, our guide made the whole thing worthwhile - the irascible Mr Bin. He's a former South Vietnamese soldier who used to fight the VC. After re-education for 4 years he was allowed back into society and now guides people around his former battlefields where friends of his died, honouring their killers. Our hearts went out to him - he doesn't seem to really enjoy his job though he does it very well. He could've left Vietnam with the Americans but he chose to stay.
An important reason for stopping in at Saigon was to visit Oli's former schoolmate Dorian, who guided us excellently round some local haunts of his. Dozza took great care of us, showing us three very differnt Saigons in three nights. The vietnamese BBQ was wonderful - different but similiar to Japanese/Korean style, the Pho was cheap AND cheerful and touring his school/apartment was a window into a life we considered. It's been interesting to see how differnt friends cope in different cities so far. The final night was an incredibly authentic English pub the rival of any of Japan's clones. We watched a drab England limp to the second round and it was just like home. Other nights in Saigon included a surreal trip to a rock club that didn't exist followed by stumbling across lots of music and chanting at a retaurant. We looked in gormlessly for a bit trying to work out what was going on, when the bouncers came towards us...and dragged inside to give us beer and seats near the judges in what turne out to be the company party. Once every couple of months, the resturant staff dress up and have a party - this one was homemade fancy dress. Everyone was very welcoming and happy to have some longnoses around - we were dragged onto the catwalk to dance and treated to as much beer and lychees as we needed. On the other end of the scale was the phenomenally expensive Apocalypse Now which we sidestepped after seeing it half empty.
After that it was off towards the Mekong Delta and beyond, into Cambodia...
