Blog 7

In this edition

• Historical Hoi An
• Tailor made clothes... too many
• Matt gets sick
• Inside the tour guide trade
• The Capital, Hanoi – nuts, but not as nuts as Saigon.
• Uncle Ho says hi... well, he lies down for a while
• The rest of the crew turns up
• Insane bicycling

As I write, the 5pm siren sounds over Sapa City – this means it is time for the government workers to knock off. There aren't many vestiges of communism left, but this is one of them.

Hoi An is another place largely spared the brunt of the American War in Vietnam, largely due to its proximity with Da Nang, the US base during the war. As such, it is a beautiful French colonial town, perfectly preserved but all too touristy. Preserved seems to mean pickled, and served with a side of fries.

The main industries are tourism and tailor made clothes. We took advantage of both and are now carrying much more weight. Emma had six or so tailors working for her for four days! She has some lovely clothes to show for it. Leo is looking dapper in his new fitted shirts and three piece suit. I clearly didn't get the hang of the process. While the others poured through catalogues, choosing the perfect designs, I walked into a tailor and said "four shirts and two pairs of pants please". They showed me pictures of shirts and pants in a book and I said, "yes, that's right, shirts and pants". Emma was horrified. I did choose the colours. All brownish. Tanzania is cruel to clothes.

In Hoi An we enjoyed a cooking class and were stuffed full of our own cooking. It was fun to cook when all of the ingredients were measured out for you, just like on the cooking shows. I was fairly sick at the time, but still managed to eat all of my food. Yum.

We met up with an old friend from Melbourne but his name will be kept secret due to incriminating tales. He has been running tours through South East Asia for the past seven years and has escorted hundreds of westerners around the many sights of Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam. He told us of all the kickbacks, scams and skims that tour guides (himself included) run on their hapless clients. Every shirt they get made in Hoi An he gets 20% of the price. Every meal he gets free and every bus he gets a commission. This is of course against the rule of the tour companies but they turn a blind eye and every guide does it. Perhaps keep this in mind when booking a tour. He was great to have around because he wasn't screwing us!

After Hoi An we caught a plane (such flash packers) to Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam. If communism was lacking from the facade of Saigon, here it was obvious. Official buildings looked like Moscow's Kremlin and there were propaganda posters aplenty. I visited Uncle Ho but he didn't say much. He has been dead forty-one years and is preserved in a glass case. It takes almost two hours to get to the front of the line but it was worth the wait. The experience was the closest to old school communism I am likely to get outside of North Korea. Stern soldiers in revolutionary guard uniform directing your every step, a wide, empty boulevard used for military displays and the mausoleum itself, a perfect example of Spartan design, enough hammer and sickle flags and marching tunes to rouse any lefty. Ho Chi Minh himself looked peaceful, but he has just come back from two month's holiday in Russia so he should be well rested. The is where his embalmer lives. Leo and the others (there are now six of us) wanted to go on Monday but Monday is Ho's day off. There ya go.

The rest of the crew turned up. Gaz, Ash, Carlie. This is a welcome change as I am no longer Leo and Emma's third wheel. Oh, amusingly, the word 'emoi' means 'worker girl' in Vietnamese, so this is what we call Emma.

We rode pushbikes around the capital city, deliberately getting lost and eventually pedalling through peak hour traffic. This is not advisable to anyone suffering heart conditions. Gaz almost got creamed a few times and I'm sure I did too, I just didn't realise with my eyes shut. We got lost down some tiny alleyways and a local woman with a bicycle full of helium balloons thought it would be funny to block our path and laugh at us for five minutes. She was right, it was funny. In the end she moved aside and let us past. Jolly friendly.

After catching the night train, we are now in Sapa City at the extreme north of Vietnam. This is the home of many of Vietnam's minority tribes. Tomorrow we hike into the hills and stay a night with them.

Thinking of you all (if I have any readers!) and praying for you too.