BEIJING - CHINA

27th Mar - 1st Apr 2012

There were only three of us on the 6.30pm train out of Hanoi heading for Beijing where we were due to arrive on the 29th at 12.30pm. Two nights on board. It consisted, initially, of an old diesel engine and one carriage. This was to take us to the Chinese border at Dong Dang ( Friendship Pass ) where the narrow ( 1 meter ) guage changes to wider Chinese guage track. It was probably the noisiest and slowest train I have ever been on. We were overtaken by cyclists and even, I am sure, by old ladies pushing shopping trolleys. 

Left: My travelling companions were an American retired landscape gardener and now vintage car and boat restorer called Mick and a Swiss ‘ecologist’, whatever that is, called Martin. Mick’s home is in Amish country in Pennsylvania and he sported a most peculiar white beard. He is mildly eccentric. Martin was from Basle and had recently completed a solo walk from Los Angeles, across the Mojave desert, and then all the way to Boston! He was big into renewable energy and ‘ecology’. Perhaps he is mildly eccentric as well. So that made three of us.

We completed exit and immigration procedures quite painlessly at the border and then boarded the Chinese train. I shared a cabin with Mick ( right ). Martin, who was getting off earlier than us at 'somewhere' to go walking in the hills, had a cabin to himself. Again, we were the only three occupants in our carriage. Lots of Chinese in the others.

The Chinese train gave a remarkably smooth ride; you hardly noticed that you were moving, and it was a fast one. The beds were reasonably comfortable ( the Asians like firm mattresses which tend to give me a back-ache. Indeed Asians can sleep quite comfortably on stone floors, or motor-bike seats for that matter, even when stone-cold sober. It must take practice or a particular shaped body ). 

It was clean, even the loos were clean, with carpeted cabins and corridor, a wash-room in each carriage and there was a pleasant restaurant car ( left ). Hot water was provided in thermos flasks in the cabin and hot water points were at the end of each carriage. The locals always seem to carry dry pot-noodles and tea with them for which hot water is a vital necessity. Blissfully, no pestilential announcements. The Chinese sensibly assume that passengers know what to do, or not to do, or have the wit to work it out.

This two night 1st Class train journey, Hanoi to Beijing West station cost $330. Much cheaper still if you buy the ticket in China. It is remarkably good value when I think back to the Aussie Ghan which chugged along at about 50mph from Adelaide to Darwin where a claustrophobic lie-down berth, bossy rule-bound jobsworths constantly giving ‘announcements’ to ‘guests’ ( how naff ) telling you what you can’t do, luggage restrictions, expensive food and ( limited variety) drink and no interesting scenery for a similar time and distance costs in the region of AUS$1500 with, in my case, bed bugs thrown in for free.

We passed the evening agreeably enough with Mick proudly showing myself and Martin his photo album ( he was carrying a photo album! ) of his large collection of restored antique vehicles. We duly expressed our admiration and subsequently slept well.

 We arrived in Nanning ( a big station ) at 0600hrs the next morning and got off the train to wait in a vast empty waiting room furnished with giant sized armchairs ( reminded me of the Shrinking Man ) while the train was shuttled about to collect more carriages. Off we went again, initially through dramatic countryside in Guangxi province containing many ‘karst‘ type limestone hills as per Ha Long which was interesting and which were surrounded by little rice paddys, but the weather was grey, drizzly and overcast and the scenery later became flat and dull. 

There was a continous mist and poor visibility caused by the damp conditions and smog from many enormous industrial chimneys belching smoke. The towns and some large cities we passed through, or stopped at, all had a dour and dirty appearance. The buildings were dismal, often enormous monolithic blocks; purely utilitarian, and the lowly mass accommodation looked like stacked concrete rabbit-hutches. Some of these drab constructions were clearly derelict, some were clearly being built and with some it was not clear which. I think they must be rehousing the proletariat. The cities and towns all had the appearance of building sites with little colour or even shops or lighting to break the monotony. I did not see a single building of any architectural merit. Other than concrete grey the only other colours visible were the dull grey-green flat grass fields and occasional blue corrugated iron roofs. There was also a surprising lack of people about, and I never saw any children. Indeed, all the scenery until we got well into Beijing was somewhat dreary and depressing ( not helped by the gloomy weather and spring not yet having sprung ). Impressions, so far, of China; grim and austere, but it might be that the railway lines just go through the grotty parts.

We arrived at Beijing West station at 1300hrs, just a shade late. Self and Mick went to the large information desk to ask about taxis and in Mick’s case where he could get some ‘Renmibi’, or ‘Yuan’ the local dosh. Don’t know why he didn’t get some in Hanoi; it wasn’t difficult. As it happened the staff at the windows did not speak English, so we went our separate ways. 

Fortunately the station had English, as well as Chinese, signs. I presume the previous Olympics here played a large part in promoting English signage. A few ‘touts’ were trying enthusiastically to con foreigners into using vastly expensive ‘cowboy’ taxis ( I was not asleep this time ). There was a long but fast moving queue for the official Beijing versions; the dark blue, red or green with gold stripe jobs. I had to cross the city from west to east, a one hour journey, and it only cost 60 RMB or Yuan or Kuai ( less than US$10 ). The Chinese currency description is confusing. I think the official term for money is Renminbi ( RMB ), the basic unit is the Yuan and the coloquial term for this is Kuai. It has Yuan marked on the banknotes.

I am using an agency for onward travel via Mongolia to Moscow called ‘Monkeybusiness’. They have an internet site called ‘Monkeyshrine’. They had proved most helpful and my contact, coincidently called Matt ( from Melbourne ), had provided me with lots of useful info by e-mail. They advised me that it would take two weeks to fix my Russian visa in Beijing, and I had plenty of time in hand to do this. I filled in the extremely bureaucratic application form at their office ( names, dates, addresses and telephone numbers required for previous two schools, plus previous places of work, countries visited and dates in the previous ten years etc. etc! ). It severely tested my memory and imagination. Matt said he would go to the embassy for me that afternoon; done it many times before for clients, no problem. The next day I got an urgent and apologetic e-mail from Matt to say that the goddamn Rooskies had refused to process my visa. They are recently enforcing a ‘strictly by the book’ rule that British, German and Swiss nationals have to have ‘residence’ permits in China. Bloody hell! What has the British government ( or the Swiss and German for that matter ) done to upset the Russians recently? The least worst option was for me to go to Hong Kong where, I was informed, the visa could be processed in three days. This was complicated by the fact that the blasted Easter holidays and a Chinese ( grave cleaning ) holiday closes everything in HK from the 4th - 10th April. OK, no real choice, I bought a train ticket for the high-speed train to HK on Sunday 1st April which would get me there at 1.00pm on Monday 2nd. I’m writing this on the train.

In the meanwhile I had a bit of time to have a decco around some of Beijing.

The metro system in this city is magnificent; ultra-modern, clean, reliable, fast, quiet, easy to navigate and incredibly cheap. 2 Yuan ( 30 cents ) covers most city routes. It must have been installed for the Olympics. It is the best underground system that I have encountered by far. I went off to look at Tiananmen Square.

Left: Looking north to the Gate of Heavenly Peace, the entrance to the Forbidden City. The Square and the Forbidden city are aligned south to north.

Right: On the west side of the Square is the Great Hall of the People. Vast edifice which has a banqueting hall which can seat 5000 people. Hell of a lot of washing up to do after a big dinner there. Someone must take ages doing the seating plan!

Left: The monument to the People’s Heroes towards the southern end of the Square.

Right: The China national Museum, on the eastern side of the Square. You will notice that in these photos the sky is blue and the visibility is excellent. I am told that this is a rare occurrence. Lucky me.

Left: Soldiers on guard on the north side of the Square outside the Gate of Heavenly Peace and the large portrait of the Great Leader Chairman Mao. Despite the horrors which occurred during the ten year ‘Cultural Revolution’, and to which no Chinese now look back with pleasure or pride, the old Chairman is still revered.

Right: Lots of squads of well drilled soldiers marched about the Square. I could not work out where they were marching to or from or what purpose they served, but they added to the spectacle.

Left: The Chinese police use this imitation form of Segway vehicle. These handy and environmentally friendly modes of transport are regularly used by many police forces and other organisations throughout the world, even by old age pensioners in the USA; except, of course, in Britain where for no other reason that they fall ‘between’ vehicle categories, they are effectively banned. 

Right: Looking south to the Monument to the People’s Heroes and Mao’s mausolem ( open most mornings ).

Left: One of the vast Soviet, or Kim Il Sung, style monolithic ministerial buildings on the enormous street leading east from Tiananmen Square. Things are build to vast proportions here. It should be noted that everywhere was immaculately clean. ( India take note! It can be done ).

Right: Off Wangfujing Street was the entrance to a large old fashioned market complex and ‘food on sticks’ outlets. 

Left: Wangfujing Street is the Oxford Street equivalent in the centre of Beijing, just east of Tiananmen Square. Lots of smart ‘designer’ shops in a pedestrian zone and the street is about 50 yds wide. Plenty of space.

Right: Plus smart restaurants with some extravagantly dressed chaps dishing out menus. 

My hotel was an inexpensive but clean and modern establishment ( free Wi-Fi ) in the Sanlitun area on the east side; an area that houses many embassies and has lots of good shops, bars and pubs. Very much an ‘ex-pat’ part of the city. This sign ( left ) was on a street nearby. It conjures up visions of police patients with their weaponry slung over their beds. Presumably the ‘unarmed’ police don’t get such special treatment.

Right: This poor chap was begging on the street. I gave him some money. Now, either he is severely handicapped, or he was fine and standing in a deep hole in the pavement. I suspect the former, but I wasn’t prepared to put it to the test. One assumes he has a minder somewhere.

Left: One of the quaint Beijing ‘tuk-tuk’ equivalents. Very neat, practical and cheap form of public transport.

Twenty four hours on the speedy and comfortable ( and very full ) train to Kowloon, Hong Kong. It was the time the Chinese go to visit the graves of their ancestors....and Easter to make things worse. This was not part of my intended itinerary but needs must to get a Rooshan visa, and a good opportunity to revisit the place since the Brits handed it back to China and to say hello to some unsuspecting victims resident there.

PS. I hadn't realised previously that your Chinese visa is stamped 'exit' on arriving at HK 'cos HK is the Special Economic Zone or whatever and one has to get another Chinese visa to return to Beijing. I suppose it's to stop a mass migration to and from this prestigious and wealthy part of China....and another way of getting money from farang tourists. Very cunning these Chinese.

HA LONG BAY - VIETNAM

25th - 26th Mar 2012

Ha Long Bay

Minibus from Hanoi north-east to the coast at Ha Long took 3.5 hours, including a coffee stop. We got there at 1230hrs and were taken by a little boat to our bigger boat ( left ), the Oriental Sails. It was a very comfortable vessel. This was to be a 24 hour cruise including some landings ashore to visit places of interest en route. The little boat, our landing craft, was towed by the bigger boat and off we sailed into the Bay. This is another very tourist saturated place in Vietnam, but despite the numbers of punters and boats it is still a most attractive and peaceful experience. Actually, a large part of the cruise was spent eating and drinking with the odd venture out to take photos.

Right: The dining room and bar. There was a mixed bag of 26 pax on board from several parts of the world; Australia, India, Britain, Canada, Norway etc. and even a couple from Vietnam. The staff were numerous and ever attentive, as always. The meals were Vietnamese style and excellent. Wine was extra. The cabins were very comfortable also. The walls must have been suitably thick because nobody complained about my snoring.

Left: On the top deck. The place was prepared for sunbathing but the weather, although warmish, was somewhat overcast and misty. It got sunnier on the second day.

Right: The bridge and the guy who did the steering. All the navigation around these little islands is done by sight, and there were lots of other boats of varying size around which needed to be avoided. I was told that there are about 500 craft operating in the Ha Long Bay area. I don't think they were fitted with a TCAS system....."traffic, traffic,...whoop whoop!"

Left: The strange rock formations are called ‘Karsts’. There are 1969 of them in the Bay area. They are limestone rock and were formed ( we were told ) by a combination of tectonic activity ( earthquakes ) and erosion over a very long period. Look it up if you are that interested. 

Right: Another similar ship to ours. We never put our sails up. There was no wind anyway. The sails are purely decoration.

At some point we were driven ashore onto one of the islands to wander through some caves. Left: This was a large cave complex. There were hundreds of tourists wandering through it. I wondered if any got lost and were left behind.

Right: Another part of the caves. For some strange reason they were lit up with rather garishly coloured floodlights. Lots of stalactites and stalacmites, and tourists.

Left: For another inexplicable reason the place was dotted with waste bins in the form of penguins. Why penguins? There are certainly no penguins native to Vietnam that I am aware of. I have, however, noticed some penguin waste bins in Saigon. I suspect they were a massive free hand out from some ‘agency’ or other after a big order for the Antarctic was cancelled. 

Right: A photo of some islands from the caves.

Left: More islands and boats. You are never exactly alone on these cruises.

Right: Early morning PT, known locally as ‘Tai Chi’, was organised for some ( 4 ) volunteers who were told it was good for them at 7am, before breakfast. Myself and my recently aquired drinking buddies were certainly not up for this. I got the photo only because breakfast started at 7.30am and I happened to pass by.
Other ‘activities’ were available for those wanting something else to do; such as canoeing around the local islands ( no thanks ), and quite an interesting call in at a floating fish market with some strange fish and luminous sqid on offer. They even suggested a swim.

One of the more amusing aspects of little trips like this is meeting up with hitherto unknown fellow passengers, as one is apt to do when sitting down to meals together. We seemed, by chance, to form an ‘ad hoc’ gang of dissolute retirees plus one somewhat younger chap. Left: John ( Glasgow ), Tim ( Keswick ) and Michael ( Melbourne ). We had a few ‘bevvies’ between us, except for John who was showing enormous self-discipline and not drinking alcohol due to a course of antibiotics. Quite stressful for a Glaswegian I would imagine. He was due to be released from this purgatory two days later when he would be down in Hue to celebrate. History has not revealed, yet, if the police were involved.


Right: The younger member of our gang, Jaques from Winnipeg and a friend.


It was a jolly trip and noone was drownded. Back to Hanoi where I had another day to spend before travelling north. Met up with Christian, the 777 pilot, last seen in Bangkok and the Airbus driver, Claudio, last seen in Saigon. We had a good dinner together. Quite a coincidence that they were there in Hanoi together and free for the evening.

Left: I remember passing this statue of Mr Lenin in Dien Bien Phu Street who was much admired by the North Vietnamese hierarchy. Note that his name is spelt in the Vietnamese vernacular.

The next afternoon was filed in by visiting the old ‘Hanoi Hilton’ ( I had forgotten that they still preserved a bit of it ). It is just to the south of the central Hoang Kiem lake. It was built as a prison by the French between 1886 - 91 and subsequently called Hoa Lo by the Vietnamese. Most of the prison has been knocked down with just a corner left as a museum. 

The gist of the exhibits is that the French were all evil, brutal and cowardly colonists, the Americans were all evil, brutal and cowardly imperialist aggressors and the Vietnamese were all brave, victorious, kind, humane and forgiving heroes. OK, there may be some element of truth in this, but I would respect the Vietnamese position a bit more if they were just a tiny wee bit more even-handed in their judgement. I suspect the American POWs might have some comment to make on their ‘kind and humane’ treatment received here and at other less ‘comfortable’ camps.

Right: One of the dormitory prison cells where the nasty French locked up, and shackled, the brave and kindly Vietnamese revolutionary patriots.

Left: One of the isolation cells where the even more brave and kindly revolutionary warriors were locked up and shackled.

Right: The guillotine which the evil French used to remove the heads of the most brave and kindly revolutionary heroes. I expect the thing still works. I pulled the rope but nothing happened. Might need a bit of oil. The rat was spared.

Left: A photo of the removed heads of three once heroic Vietnamese ladies. It did not specify precisely what their patriotic activities were that culminated in this rather terminal punishment.

Right: More up to date; the regulations pertaining to US POWs during the 1960s/70s conflict. There was absolutely no suggestion ( here ) that any US prisoner was ill-treated. Indeed there were photos of POWs playing basketball, chess and having a really jolly time. The Americans called it the ‘Hanoi Hilton’, according to the Vietnamese, because it was so comfortable. I wasn’t there, of course, but it would be interesting to hear what...........

..........Senator John McCain has to say on the subject. This ( left ) is his flying suit and kit, plus parachute, which they have kept and put on display. He is one of the ex-POWs, and recent US  Presidential candidate, who was shot down and parachuted into one of the Hanoi lakes. He has actually made a return visit to this place and was remarkably laid-back about his experience; but he is a politician. I suspect he might disclose more interesting views on the subject in private.

So that is about all from me from Vietnam. I am due next to head up north by train to China. I hope to continue the blogging from there but have heard rumours that many blogsites, and other websites, are blocked in that liberal, free-thinking, go-ahead country. 

It is incredible that in much of SE Asia, Vietnam is a prime example, fast broadband internet and WiFi are so readily and cheaply availble. In Vietnam, internet coverage is brilliant and normally free except, remarkably, at the very expensive hotels. Mobile phones are also cheap to operate. The Vietnamese would be lost without these facilities; they are like air and water to them. It is in stark contrast to the exhorbitant fees and bad service imposed in places like New Zealand and Australia ( where I remember paying $6 per hour for internet use! ) and in Europe for that matter. One presumes that some ‘telecom’ companies have established money-grabbing monopolies and/or governments are extracting punitive tax as always.

OK, onwards and upwards and there may be a gap in transmissions due to Mr Hu and who knows who else.  

SA PA - VIETNAM

22nd - 24th March 2012

Sa Pa

The town of Sa Pa, originally called Xa Pa by the Chinese, subsequently Chapa by the French, for whom it  was a cool hill station and garrison, and now often Sapa for the benefit of tourists. It is, in a way, Vietnam's equivalent of Cusco in Peru. It is at an altitude of 5250ft, and surrounded by the Hoang Lieu Son mountain range in the north-west of the country near the Chinese border. The highest mountain in the locality, the most south-easterly peak of the Himalayas, is Mt Pham Xi Pang ( Mt Fansipan, or even Mt Fancy Pants ) at 10,310 ft. It is home to several 'ethnic minority' tribes, most of which are descendants of Chinese origin.


You get there by train from Hanoi. Initially to the station of Lao Cai, then onwards up the mountains for an hour by bus. There are several 'private' carriages attached to the trains leaving Hanoi and are all overnight jobs. I booked a berth in the Sapali Express carriage ( left ), which departed Hanoi at 2150hrs and arrived at Lao Cai at 0630hs the next morning.







It was actually very comfortable. Soft mattresses ( unusual in Vietnam ), very new and clean, good aircon/heating and a bar-cum-snack counter at the end of the carriage. No complaints, and the cost was only $33. I shared the compartment with a charming Chinese lady and a couple of Vietnamese. All most civilised.






The only problem with the Sa Pa area, especially at this time of year, is that it is more often than not in cloud ( or fog/mist call it what you like ). The bus left the station at Lao Cai and began a steep climb up a zig-zagging mountain road. The bus very quickly went 'IMC' ( into the clouds ). The views would probably have been magnificent if the vis had been greater than 100yds. On arrival at the town the cloud/fog was wafting over and through the landscape with occasional glimpses of a hill, valley or even the sun. Left:  The view out of my hotel window was down into a dramatically steep valley.


This extraordinary looking 'dog' was guarding the front door. It had rather snaggly teeth and it's fluffy bits had been dyed pink. Poor creature must have been the laughing stock amongst it's mates.










Sa Pa town is a tourist magnet. The place is full of hotels and restaurants, and ladies from the ethnic minority tribes selling things, post-cards and handicrafts mainly. It could have been ghastly but, surprisingly, wasn't. I was expecting the hawkers ( mainly ladies ) to be irritating, but they were actually rather charming and smiley with the constant refrain "you buy me something". The main 'ethnic' group are the Black H'Mong tribe who wear black tunics, black leggings and hats, or coloured scarves, and most carry wicker-work baskets on their backs.



Right: The lake in the town centre. The other 'ethnics' were Red Dao, Dai and a couple of other lesser groups. The Red Dao wear spectacular red hats and I forgot to get a photo of one. They are all 'genuine' tribes and do not just dress up for the tourists. I was told that they really don't wear any other dress; even the children. They have known no other life and live a subsistence existence in mountain villages with the womenfolk doing the housework, cooking, making garments and selling things to tourists. The men-folk work in the terraces growing rice, building the houses and with a few animals to look after. Of course the many tourists have brought them money, and some outlying villages now have electricity and even TV. It was tempting to think that they go skiing in Klosters during the winter and keep their Lamborghini Aventadors in Hanoi; but no, they do genuinely lead a simple and seemingly happy agricultural life. How long this will last with 'mod-cons' being foist upon them remains to be seen.

The next day I went on a walking tour. I was met by my guide ( left ), a local lady of the Dai tribe from a nearby village. Her name was Mai, mother of two, whose husband was working in the fields. The idea was to walk for about 9 kms through the countryside including three villages of differing ethic make up. We were dropped off by car at the ‘start-point’, 3 miles from the town. Just myself and Mai, initially. It was extraordinary how many other western tourists we passed walking down the road from the town; all accompanied by local guides. We got a head’s start. Mai was great company and, of course, a fount of knowledge about the area. Fortunately the weather was also a good deal clearer than the previous day.

We were surrounded initially by H’Mong ladies ( right ) but they were happy and smiley and didn’t persist in doing their sales patter “you buy me something” when they realised I was not the buying sort, and following a bit of an explanation by Mai. 

These ladies are responsible for making all the family clothes. Wherever they are they have lots of strands of hemp ( I think ) slung over their shoulders and are continually, as of habit, dextrously joining one piece to another to make long threads. They do it almost subconsciously and without looking. You can see a couple at the front of this pic doing it here.

These threads are then wound onto the very primitive machinery to make garments. I think this contraption ( left ) was used to stretch and dry the basic threads before being dyed and woven on looms

The going started off relatively easy; walking along decent dirt tracks down into the valley. We passed through a Black H’Mong, then a Dai village. Right: All the surrounding land was a mass of terracing used to grow rice. It is this crop which is carefully harvested and stored ( they only get one crop a year ) and is vital to their existance. As I said earlier, the landscape reminds me a bit of the Inca/Quechua terracing in the Andes. All the farming is done by hand with the help of buffaloes to pull plows. I saw no motorised  agricultural machinery.

There is some local industry involving the construction of a projected hydro-electric scheme. One place had several locals busy welding enormous pipe segments together. On the whole it is totally unspoilt countryside with rustic bridges as per this one ( left ). 

Somehow they manage to produce magnificent clothes with incredibly intricate woven designs ( similar to the Andes tribes ). Right: An example of a dress which was on sale for about $80, but could probably be bartered down to $50. This sort of thing would, I was told, take about a year to complete. They do this embroidery instead of watching telly. I wonder how much that would sell for in the King's Road?

Left: Similarly well made were these bags. I think they were on offer for $15 each. If it wasn’t for the logistic problems and, I suspect, exhorbitant import tax imposed by western countries, it would be worthwhile sending a container load home.

Right: At some point in our walk we were joined by an old(ish) H’Mong lady. She was carrying the ubiquitous wicker basket on her back and wearing flip-flops. I’m not sure of her motive for walking with us; maybe to sell me something at the end, or just for company on the way back to her village. The going began to get increasingly rugged with steep and very narrow, slippery paths. At times it meant jumping from rock to rock and with a considerable drop to the side. I began to struggle a bit and on a couple of occasions fell over into the vegetation and was rescued by the old lady following behind. How undignified! She and Mai had absolutely no problems with the going, leaping up and down the steps and footholds in the steep banks....and the old girl with ill-fitting flip-flops on too. They were both considerably fitter and more agile than me. I was beginning to sweat a bit. It felt as if we had been going for much more than 9kms and that was before we stopped for lunch..... 

.........Which we did at the top of this rocky shute ( left ) which, in the wet season, is a raging waterfall. It was steep and a lapse of attention could have resulted in a long and painful  slide. Mai had been carrying our lunch and the old lady just sat and joined together strands of thread. They never stop doing it when static. 

Onwards we marched; at least Mai and the old lady marched. I staggered. At some point we went up and down along a very slippery narrow path through a bamboo forest ( right ). I insisted on stopping on the more level bits to take a photo. In reality it was to get my breath back. For some reason we never came across any other of the many tourists seen first thing in the morning

Left: Looking back up at the dry waterfall. By now back down at the bottom of the valley and only the other side to climb up. Only!

Right: A colourful cockerel which posed for a photo.

We finally ended up in a Red Dao village at the top of the home climb. This, I think,  was the old lady’s home, although I thought she was a H’Mong. Who knows, anyway I bought a woven bracelet from her and she was suitably grateful. There were some other tourists waiting there plus a cafe selling life-saving beer. It had a TV inside; a relative rarity ( on the tourist trail anyway ). For all I know, when the tourists have gone back to their hotels out come the 72 inch plasma screen HD TVs , the computers and all the other hi-tech gizmos. Waiting for our car to pick us up and trying to talk to the locals in my broken Vietnamese ( they speak their own language ) the only two subjects of common interest, and understanding, were inevitably English Premier League football ( this guy was a ‘Man U’ supporter ) and, surprisingly, the Royal Wedding of William and Kate ‘Meederton’. It truly seems that the Royal Family and football are all that Britain is now famous for worldwide, even in the remote depths of the Vietnamese hinterland.

While in the area I was reminded of Dien Bien Phu. I have visited this place several times previously and am using this blogsite to record some of my photos and as a reminder of my visits. It is a regular run for the domestic airline from Hanoi with two, or maybe three, flights per day and usually all full up.

Dien Bien ( they seem to miss out the Phu nowadays ) is now a medium sized town about 100 miles south of Sa Pa close to the border with Laos. It is in the centre of a large valley and surrounded, at a distance of about 10 miles, by high rocky hills and mountains. It was here that the French met their denouement in 1955. At that time the town was a tiny village spanning a small river and had several hillocks around it on which were built forts and formed the defensive positions for the large French military base. It is now renowned for the quality of the rice grown around here.

The airstrip then ( 1954 - 55 ) was the vital logistic link with the outside world and for resupply and evacuation of personnel, together with parachute drops into the valley. This airstrip, initially made from perforated steel plates, is now a 1800 metre commercially operated hard runway with supporting navigation aids and airport buildings attached ( left ). The hills in the distance are, as is often the case, shrouded in mist and fog. An important factor in the vicious fighting which took place here.

Right: This is what is left of the semi-submerged HQ of the base commander, Colonel Castris. Access was blocked to modern day visitors. The story of this prolonged  ( 6 month ) battle is fascinating and involved some real heroics by some extraordinary French military personnel including the infamous ‘para’ Major Bigeard and the one-armed artillery commander who, when he realised his hopeless position and after being much criticised, committed suicide by blowing himself up with a hand-grenade. The book ‘The Last Valley’ by Martin Windrow describes this long battle and makes riveting reading.

Like so many of Vietnam’s historic sites and museums, this battlefield is ( or was ) not well preserved although some of the hill forts are being reconstructed and the town does make a bit of a living from visiting tourists ( many French and German of course ).  

Most of the rusting heavy equipment, like this light tank ( left ), is not so much preserved as left undisturbed where it ended up. There were 4 of these tanks airlifted in in pieces and constructed on site, and they are all still there, just where they were destroyed or abandoned in 1955, some with the grass and weeds growing up around them. Actually, this tank is on top of one of the forts which is being reconstructed and cleared of undergrowth.

Right: One of the forts, all of them given French girls’ names, overlooking the now largish town of Dien Bien. Much of the intervisibility between these defended hills has been lost due to the expansion of the town.

Left: Another hilltop fort under reconstruction. This photo was taken a few years ago and maybe they have now produced a battlefield site which is well and accurately reconstructed. After all, the Vietnamese spare no effort in recalling the ‘glory’ of their brave and patriotic victory under Ho Chi Minh and General Giap over the brutal and wicked French colonists.

Right: A Vietnamese military cemetery. There are at least two large Vietnamese cemeteries in the area each containing thousands of concrete graves and headstones. Interestingly, the headstones that I saw had no names on them. I cannot remember the score of dead Vietnamese to dead French, but it was a factor of about 10 to 1, if not greater. Some of the Vietnamese assaults onto the French positions were positively suicidal, but overall numbers, their almost total disregard for taking casualties and their hidden artillery in the hills eventually, inevitably, won the day. 

There is, or was, a rather basic military museum in the town. Outside is some old dilapidated military hardware, and inside are some of the remnants of the French base including this bath in which Colonel Castris soaked himself while he pondered his predicament. There is also a museum dedicated to the local ethnic tribes and which, in my opinion, is rather better put together. 

That is it, from me, from the outlying mountainous territory of NW Vietnam. It is an area still occupied by the many ‘ethnic minority’ tribes. Hopefully they will continue to live a relatively happy and simple life, uncomplicated by modern technology and material greed. With so many tourists taking an interest, in the Sa Pa area at least, one wonders for how long. I suspect the possession of computers, the odd Lamborghini and holidays in Klosters will beckon eventually. 

PS. There has been a bit of a hiatus. I failed to post a couple of blogs in Vietnam and then found the 'blogsite'  blocked in China. I am now in Hong Kong ( more liberal ) and sending a backlog ( b'log ) of blogs. So blog backlog block bloken. Hu is to blame?