We beetled towards Hoang Sa in District 1 (to check in with the lovely Lunch Lady of Saigon), when we came across a splendid park. Saigon is strewn with lovely green spaces, beautifully treed, gorgeously shrubbed, elaborately flowered. They often have magnificent ceremonial arches, stirring heroic statues and heavy duty exercise gear for the locals […]Read More Capitalist Rats meet Saigon Micky
We Britons were taught a lovely poem at school about a brave little French sailor boy who refused to leave his post and was subsequently consigned to Valhalla by our accommodating ancestors. It began… “The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but he had fled; The flame that lit the battle’s wreck, Shone […]Read More Revolutionary Grace under fire at the Museum
We tumbled out of the train in Hanoi just after 5 am and made our way to a nearby 24/7 tourist eatery called Puku (evidently the Maori word for stomach). There we found eggs and coffee and two lovely English midlanders, Dave and his Dad Neil from Derbyshire. We had an enjoyable chat with them […]Read More The Englishman, the Bear and the Whistle
We were lying in bed in Da Nang watching the neon sign of the Hotel Miami Beach flicker. It’s all strangely quiet and tourist free. We had expected a bigger badder Nha Trang but there’s not a growling, beetle-browed Russian bear in sight. No bears, but quite a Dragon. Da Nang is famous for it’s […]Read More Da Nang: Valley of the Coffee Dolls
Hôi An is an enchanted place, a powerfully beautiful medieval port city that fell asleep 200 years ago and has now awoken, and we, your dislocated hippies, have fallen under its spell. We had arrived a little frazzled from Nha Trang, extricated ourselves from the sleeper bus, and walking like Egyptians, folded ourselves into a […]Read More Hôi An – Man oh Man !
Hōi An ( formerly known by Westerners as “Faifoo”) has a marvellous display of photographs and clothing of the tribal people of the central plains and the hills and mountains north west of Hanoi, (the most famous of whom are the H’Mong). We, your dislocated hippies, are not ethnographers and wouldn’t know a tribal person […]Read More Fabulous tribal fashions in Faifoo
It’s been more than 60 years since Uncle Ho handed the French a flogging at Diem Bien Phu and the French PM, Pierre Mendes-France decided , (after 90,000 casualties and with huge popular backing), to pull out, leaving behind only the recipe for croissants ( for which we dislocated and ever expanding hippies thank them), […]Read More The Frenchman, the Chef and the Gorilla