From the lights of Hoi An to the shadow of war

Hoi An was unfathomably beautiful, its coloured silk lanterns reflected in the peaceful river, on which floated elegant little boats. Even its visitors were bewitching. I saw several stunning couples dressed in elaborate red silk wedding gowns, limbs entwined, teeth gleaming, and both gazing so lovingly at each other and for so unblinkingly long that I started thinking twice about the standard-length fond regards I bestow upon my beloved at home. It was only when I approached the scene from a different angle that I saw the light reflector held by a man in an uncomfortable lunge intimately close to the happy couple, the official photographer close behind.

I surprise the happy couple

One day I rented a bicycle and cycled to the beach. My steed had an endearing character that compensated for its notable lack of gears, wobbly pedals, and a certain nuance in the braking system with which I came to an abrupt understanding around 2km into my journey. Still, it had two wheels, and they were both still attached when I returned it in the evening. 

An Bang beach, Hoi An

After three peaceful days in Hoi An I made my way north to Hue. The train journey from Da Nang to Hue is most spectacular, and reminiscent of the beautiful Coastal Pacific line from Christchurch to Picton, with the blue waves crashing on the right and the rolling landscape on the left. It hugs the coast from Da Nang, shoots through rock-tunnels and winds up and down headlands, the limestone karsts rising unexpectedly from the flat rice paddies. I put in my headphones and watched the fishermen in round coracles throwing their nets in the bays, as Johnny Cash shot a man in Reno. 

Where Hoi An is a town of delicacy and lights, Hue, perched on the banks of the Perfume River, was the imperial might of Vietnam. The Imperial Enclosure is a walled citadel which guards a walled citadel, the Nguyen emperor's residence, in which used to stand a third citadel - the delightfully-named Forbidden Purple City. Sadly, however, almost nothing is left of this innermost palace, which used to house the royal concubines and the eunuchs of the emperor. It was built in the 1810-30s and destroyed relatively shortly afterwards in the French and American Wars. Reconstruction and preservation, as a UNESCO World Heritage site, is underway.

One of the many gates in the Citadel, Hue

Following the American War trail my next stop is the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), the 5km-wide strip of land which separated the North and South from 1954 to 1975. The DMZ, despite its name, became the most militarised area of Vietnam during the American War. By the end of the war seven million tons of bombs had been dropped on Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia - more than twice the amount of bombs dropped on Europe and Asia in World War II - and it is estimated that a third of the ordnance remains unexploded and buried in Vietnam. As much of 20% of Vietnam remains uncleared of land mines. Since 1975 unexploded ordnance has caused 105,000 injuries and 45,000 deaths, and Agent Orange is now debilitating its fourth generation since it was sprayed over the countryside in herbicide as a chemical weapon. It is hard to reconcile this beautiful country and its warm people with the shadow of Napalm Girl and her brother, who, I feel, have left their frame in the War Remnants Museum of Ho Chi Minh City to follow me northwards. 

Medical and Scientific Aid for Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia: http://msavlc.org/the-vietnamese-association-of-victims-of-agent-orange-vava/

Mines Advisory Group: maginternational.org

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