Zelma’s Trip

After my last entry I decided to head back to Olly’s house on a xe om. I showed the rider the name of the street written down as I still seem unable to pronounce it.  It soon became apparent that he was either illiterate or had a penchant for driving round in circles.  He also seemed to like going through red lights.  This is by no means uncommon here but people usually at least slow down.  I decided it was not the best lift in the World and asked him to stop.  Eventually he did but he still wanted the full fare.  As he had hold of my arm I decided it best just to pay him.  The only problem at this stage was that I was in an area of the city I didn’t know.  I managed to walk back to the centre, albeit after sitting down to have a cigarette and curse him under my breath.  Due to my traumatic experience I went to a bar to have a cocktail and wait for Olly to finish work so he could meet me and collect me.  I had two cocktails which are crazily stronger than cocktails at home.  It was actually relatively entertaining as one of the Vietnamese bar staff was learning English and also played football so I ended up teaching him all the English words for football terms.  He then drew an empty pitch and wrote them all out to show he had remembered.  He seemed to expect me to comment on his efforts so I drew a star on the page which he seemed very pleased with.  On the way back from the bar we managed to get lost and stopped to get some food.  Some locals decided it was a good idea to challenge us to a rice wine drinking challenge which was interesting, if not particularly tasty.  We then stopped off again and met an exceptionally cute young boy who Olly tried to teach English.  Vietnamese people really struggle to pronounce “S” and “Z” sounds so he called us “Olly” and “Elmo”!

On the Wednesday I went for a nice meal with Olly and we rode through the backstreets to  a lake with a B52 bomber in which was shot down during the War – a fact the Vietnamese are very proud of.

Following on from the manic motorcyclist and also the copious over consumption of cakes and cocktails I decided it was time to leave Hanoi for a while.  I went to some tour places and asked about buses to Thanh Hoa.  I was told where to head and took a xe om who took me to the wrong place.  He actualy took me to a station used to transport containers.  One of the containers was empty and I considered getting a free ride (as per the advert).  I then saw the next container was being loaded with sacks of white powder by men in plastic suits wearing masks.  I quickly decided I didn’t want to share my journey with the load.

I eventually got to the right place and was herded into a local bus.  The bus was an experience and it felt like they couldn’t have fitted any more people or luggage into the space if they tried.  A Vietnamese woman I sat next to fed me bread and they all tried to speak to me in very limited Engliash.  When I eventually arrived in Thanh Hoa I was told it was the right place to get off so obliged.  As I did so I was immediatly engulfed by motorbike riders who hovered around me as if they had never seen a Western woman by herself before.  Fortunately, or so I thought, I was next to a cafe and went and sat down to have a beer.  One of the men came and sat next to me and grinned profusely.  I tried to talk to the staff and asked one of them if they spoke English.  Both he and his friends gesticualted towards his beer bottle and did comedy “he’s too drunk to talk” actions.  I had my beer and got in a taxi.  Despite having to forcibly push a “friendly” man out of the taxi who got in after I did, I arrived at a hotel, eventually managed to check-in and slept.

The next day I was greeted by the same curiousity as I was the previous day.  I got a xe om to Sam Son which is a coastal town frequented by locals but not Western tourists.  It was off-season and the whole place was dead.  The”Lonely Planet” described the place as a “concrete jungle” and it was not far wrong.  The beach was nice though and I could see how it might appeal in fairer weather.  I was really hungry at this point and wandered into a couple of the few places that were open.  In one hotel a man came over and said “bed?” whilst doing a tired gesture.  I replied, “No, bus”.  After about 2 minutes of the “bed?”, “No, Bus.” conversation I decided I wasn’t getting anywhere and moved on.  I managed to find somewhere to eat and asked for eggs and bread – the other food on offer was somewhat less recognisable.  They cooked me two eggs (sunny-side somewhere) and brought them over.  As I was finishing the second they brought 2 more.  So I ended up eating four eggs and two small baguettes…..Hanoi has a lot to answer for!  There were a couple of tourists at the place (from China I think) and one of them spoke enough English to translate and I managed to book a car to take me to Cuc Phoung National Park.