Mui Ne: Sand Dunes

Before heading out on the open road this morning, Andrew, Jo and I stopped by a small fishing village to top up our rented motorbikes and score a few VND at the ATM. We didn't make it too far into the market for supplies, unfortunately, because it was a little too crowded for our liking:

Having been relatively sheltered from the West since the Communist government took power, commercialism hasn't fully taken hold of the country. In place of product advertisements, many billboards here often focus instead on government sponsored messages:

Atop our list of priorities for the day were the picturesque dunes that lie due west of the town. The Red Dunes closest to Mui Ne were skippable thanks to the overabundance of tourists and the hoards of pushy children renting out sheets of plastic for sand sledding. I had considered renting one but these kids were just plain obnoxious (to the point of jumping in front of our bikes to slow us down) . These ones here were yelling out the customary "what your name?" "where you from?" and "wan dollah!" phrases that are oh so common in these parts:

Thankfully, the White Dunes, a fair distance away, were far more subdued. A tour was wrapping up just as we arrived so we had the whole place to ourselves.

I should have bought water before heading out today:

Instead of sliding down the sand on a sheet of plastic, I took the poor man's alternative and rolled down what must have been a four storey high dune (you will have to click on the small image below to see it) :

Hobbes waited up top and got sand all over his fur:



A lake of lotus plants below a dune:

The sand spills over onto certain stretches of the road, making driving a little bit trickier:

Though Nazi like in appearance, these swastika adorned grave sites are actually Buddhist in origin:

It was about four thirty when we found our way back to Mui Ne. With a few hours to kill before the bikes had to be returned, we went to the city center to photograph the colourful fishing boats moored in an inlet.


A sudden storm broke out soon after and we dashed to a nearby restaurant to wait it out. A half hour passed and the rain subsided enough for us to make the twenty minute drive back to the guesthouse. This was more or less when everything went wrong. First of all, unbeknownst to me, my bike had been burning gas twice as quickly as Andrew's all day. It didn't help that my gas gauge didn't work (it seems that most motorbikes are like that here). So about five minutes into our ride home, my bike stalled. Since Andrew and Jo were riding in front, they just kept on going. It was around this point, as I pushed my bike along to the nearest gas station (which was a stall full of gas filled coke bottles) , that the rain started again. Sensing my desperation, the gas station guy jacked up the prices. And it didn't end there. After I flagged down Andrew and Jo, we took a wrong turn and wound up ten minutes down the highway to Saigon. Anyway, things were sorted out and we arrived back at the guesthouse soaked and miserable.

On the upside, I fixed the shower so we had hot some water to warm up.

Travel Day: Mui Ne

So I'm sitting right at the back of the bus (that's where the cool kids sit, right?), minding my own business, when the reserve bus driver shows up. He wants the whole row to himself so that he can lie down for a nap. He ain't taking no for an answer. Now, the reason I'm sitting here is because Asian buses are made, well, for Asian people. That is to say, they don't accommodate for taller folk.

Anyway, the situation soon escalated to a battle of wills. I refused to budge because:

A. I'm a paying customer
B. I was there first

Of course, the reserve bus driver saw things differently because as the "reserve bus driver" (I guess he drives if something happens to the existing bus driver), he felt that the back seat was his entitlement. I suppose it would've been easier if I just gave in to his incessant hounding but at this point, I'm getting tired of being bullied around. At a stalemate, he decided to go ahead and lie down next to me, resting his legs on my lap and kicking me now and then out of spite. I stayed put on principle.

Things didn't improve much when we arrived in Mui Ne. Andrew went up front to tell the guy driving the bus to drop us off at a guesthouse along the way (as we had been promised). Unfortunately for us, bus drivers here get paid a commission for every passenger who stays at the guesthouse at the designated stop. We weren't allowed off and had to wait an hour to get back to the place we chose.

It should go without saying, customer service in Vietnam needs work.

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) - Random Stuff

Real estate comes at a premium in the crowded streets of central Saigon so buildings grow upwards rather than outwards. Many of these thin slivers replace the alleyways between old buildings:

Alterations can be done easily on the roadside:

Andrew's friend, Thui, took us out to the Binh Cuioi tourist village, a mini theme park of sorts, consisting of manufactured scenes from Vietnam. We didn't see too much of it because we had diverted our attentions toward a cheesy wedding photo shoot taking place:


Five seater:

Just before we turned in for the evening, we watched a bunch of local guys playing takraw, a game similar to hackey sack. Instead of a beanbag, though, they use a plastic shuttle with feathers on the end. You can hear a guy trying to sell us one in the background:

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) - Củ Chi Tunnels

Back in the day, an elaborate network of tunnels spanned 75-miles underneath Củ Chi district, with areas designated for kitchens, conference rooms, sleeping quarters and munitions bunkers. It's sort of ironic that the Củ Chi tunnels, originally established to drive out invading foreigners, now attract many thousands of tourists annually. The portion accessible to the general public has been widened to compensate for "fat American asses" (I overheard a tour guide say this to his group). Even with the broadened passages, claustrophobia kicked in not long into my dimly lit fifty meter crawl.


A tunnel left in its original state. It's hard to imagine people living in such cramped conditions. Hobbes for scale:

An old U.S tank sits where it fell. A delay mine put this one out of commission in 1970:

Trapdoors leading to spiked pits are on display near the entrance of the exhibit:


The original tunnel entrances do not accomodate for larger frames unfortunately, so I couldn't climb in this one for a photo op. The Viet Cong had similar entrances hidden all over the area, including a number by the U.S. 25th Infantry division's base camp. I've read that Viet Cong geurillas would pop out randomly, take a few pot shots at the U.S troops and go back into hiding:

The firing range in the compound is out of bounds except for paying customers. Unfortunately, it costs a buck a round and that kind of thing is not in my budget. I did snag a couple of photos and a souvenir shell casing before we got kicked out.


Sadly, the visit felt a little rushed thanks to sporadic heavy rains and our surly Viet Cong tour guide.

Taxi dashboard shrine:

Preparing our mid-afternoon snack:

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon): A Day In Pictures

Strange that the Good Morning Vietnam chain of restaurants only serves Italian food:

Traditional fare can easily be found on the roadside anyway:

Cone hatted women sell all sorts of things along the busy streets:

A few laze about at a waiting area near the docks by the Mekong:

One of many Ho Chi Minh ("Uncle Ho") memorial statues. This one rests outside the People's Committee Building (formerly the Hotel DeVille). People aren't supposed to take photos of the building but we made sure the guards were looking the other way:

Introduced by French Colonialists in the 1600's, Catholicism has spread throughout Vietnam, moreso than her neighbours. Ho Chi Minh City has her own version of the Notre Dame Cathedral (though it's not nearly as elaborately built):


The Central Post Office is just across the street from the Cathedral. More interesting than it sounds, it's a tourist hotspot because of its late 19th century architecture. A giant painting of Ho Chi Minh watches over the central hall:

And a pair of communist style statues sit next to the entrance:

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon)

I found myself at the entrance of Andrew and Jo’s guesthouse this morning after navigating through the claustrophobic maze of alleyways in Pham Ngu Lao, Ho Chi Minh City’s backpacker district.


We followed breakfast with a bike ride to the Dan Sinh war surplus market for a bit of shopping (I’m a sucker for army surplus). Surprisingly, I restrained myself to purchasing only three “vintage” commie buttons and two Viet Cong hats. I had my eye on a pith helmet but my backpack is crammed full as it is.

It’s hard to believe but crossing the street here has been one of the most exhilarating things I’ve done on this trip so far. You see, pedestrian crossings are few and far between in this heavily populated city and a little initiative has to be taken to get across. The secret lies in a leap of faith whereby one steps in front of moving traffic, maintains eye contact with drivers of oncoming vehicles while keeping a steady pace. It is a little daunting when faced with dozens of speeding motorbikes.

A video demonstration (not very well filmed unfortunately):

Half the day had already passed by the time we got out of the war surplus market so we booked it to the historically significant Reunification Palace (formerly the Presidential Palace). We only paused briefly here for a photo op at the spot where North Vietnamese tank #843 crashed through, symbolically ending the Vietnam War.

We worked our way a few blocks north to the War Remnants Museum where we soaked in a rather biased interpretation of the “American War.” Several displays in the main wing of the museum are dedicated to the atrocities committed by the “Imperialist” Americans. Most of the exhibit centered on graphic images of the long term effects of chemical defoliants (Agent Orange) and the massacre at My Lai. Outside, a number of leftover American tanks, aircraft and weaponry sit exposed to the elements:




A shrine to “Uncle Ho” near the main exhibit - these things are everywhere:

This wax model inside a recreated “Tiger Cage” (a South Vietnamese prison cell for Viet Cong soldiers) almost gave me a heart attack:

On the way back to our respective guesthouses, we stopped at Pho 2000, a noodle shop where Bill Clinton ate during his visit in 2000. Though a little bit pricier than other pho restaurants, the food was definitely fit for a president. I made off with an extra pair of disposable chopsticks as a souvenir.