Danang and Hoian; About bridges and paper lanterns

The city of Hoian, is UNESCO world heritage. Nevertheless we decided to stay in Da Nang about 30 km away which is a low key beach destination for Asian tourists but mainly a big, clean, developed non touristy city (when away from the beach front). Upon arriving we found indeed a modern city with relatively organized traffic and wide lanes and many magnificent bridges over the river. We took a hostel, run by an Italian Vietnamese couple on the waterfront, and settled into this calm and nice city to explore the surroundings. The only violent thing about this peaceful city were the remnants of 2 Philippine typhoons hitting the coast which obliged us to take refuge in our hostel the first afternoon. 

Llegamos a Danang y a primera vista me encantó. Una ciudad poco turística, moderna, limpia, organizada, las motos andaban más ordenadas o... Quizá ya nos estábamos acostumbrando a ellas, hay un río que divide la ciudad y luego se une a través de varios puentes... Los puentes están decorados con todo tipo de luces de colores que en la noche iluminaban la ciudad, lindo espectáculo nocturno como para disfrutarlo mientras haces un paseo por el malecón... Y así lo hicimos nosotros varias veces. Lo que más me gustó, es que había poca gente, variedad de restaurantes y cafés, la gente muy amable, y teníamos la playa al lado. 

The following day we got on a motorcycle direction Hoian, where after a few coffee stops, we strolled through the beautifully preserved, but much more touristy, town of Hoian with its wooden shopfronts, and Sino-Japanese influence from ancient trading history. The city was divided in 2 by a river one side with more Japanese influence while the other side was more Chinese influenced. Being a relatively small town we had soon walked around most of the town and decided against buying tickets to get into more temples and more houses. We took a break from the scorching sun with a meal of the local Hoian specialities and Belen bravely ventured into a glass of the local plastic bottled beer, waiting for sunset. After the beautiful light of the sunset on the waterfront and the old buildings we were treated with the even more beautiful light of the paper lanterns all around town. Not an official date (which we have every 25th of the month) but seduced by the romanticism of the atmosphere and an old man playing his guitar on a small bar boat we had a drink and enjoyed the spectacle. Still warm but with a cool sea breeze we had a nightly slow drive back to Danang and directly to one of the locals' favorites, not a locals' favorite published on the web but a locals' favorite word of mouth. The Ban Xeo or rice pancakes is a sort of omelet with soy sprouts and shrimps which you roll with some greens and peppers in a rice paper and dip the roll in a peanut sauce. Upon entering the place, we were seated and without questions asked, served a tray for 2 of what the server deemed the right choice. I must say I prefer this ten times than browsing again and again through a menu I don't understand to finally make a choice which is rather odd. 

Por lo general la gente que llega a Da Nang, solo es de pasada ya que el lugar turístico es otra ciudad pequeñita a 40 km de Da Nang. Sin embargo a nosotros nos gustó mucho Da Nang y decidimos quedarnos ahí 3 días y alquilarnos una moto para ir a visitar el atractivo turístico que se encuentra a 40 km: Hoian. Es un lugar demasiado acogedor, para recorrerlo a pie y no necesitas más de un día ya que es pequeño. Lo interesante es que cada calle está llena de galerías de arte, restaurantes, cafés, bares, casas antiguas chinas, casas antiguas estilo japonés, lámparas colgantes de colores, luces, lo que hace imposible ver todo a la vez y aún pasando dos o tres veces por la misma calle siempre encuentras algo nuevo que no viste antes. Nos recorrimos el pueblo entero, paramos a almorzar en un restaurante poco turístico pero que la dueña con su carisma nos convenció de probar su comida. Esperamos el atardecer para ver cómo cambiaba Hoian cuando todos los locales encendían sus lamparines de colores, el ambiente se tornó especial y romántico... Por lo que decidimos ir a disfrutar de algo de beber en un bar bote sobre el río, con un cantante a capela y su guitarra, que nos enamoró con sus boleros y música romántica. 

The next day we ventured inland, to one of the much less visited but not less worth while UNESCO heritage sites, the My Son ruins of the Cham civilization. The Chams, now a minority in Cambodia and Vietnam, once ruled an empire in this corner of the world constantly clashing with Viets, Khmers and Thai, as masses migrated South East due to persecution in China or Mongol raids (yes the Mongols made it to Vietnam under Kublai Khan but were defeated). My Son was believed to be one of the capitals of the Champa kings, housing religious Hindu complexes and burial sites and making it the most important Hindu site in Indochina. The site lay on an axis where salt from the coastal areas was traded with wood, feathers, ivory etc from the mountainous regions and which was then an input for the trade mission to the Malay peninsula and from there to the rest of the world. From the originally 70 red colored buildings, with sanskrite and Cham inscriptions, only roughly 16 were left more or less intact after a one week US carpet bombing campaign in the Vietnam War (or would "the American war" be more accurate then?) leveled or badly damaged the rest. Not bombed by B52 bombers but by a merciless tail of yet another typhoon, we took shelter in these century old ruins and marveled at the carvings, carved in the stones only after they were meticulously fit together. Getting back on our motorbike for another 70 km through rice paddies, along water buffaloes and small villages, we got stuck in small villages with growling stomachs in the unfortunate hour between lunch and dinner, knocking a few doors of closed restaurants until we found a family stall preparing Ban Xeo for the dinner hours. They kindly admitted us in their place and we started eating the dinner preparations as soon as they came of the fire, the poor lady barely keeping up baking the rice pancakes. Finally we departed back to Danang where we enjoyed the spectacle of the dragon bridge, a US architecture firm's design, breathing fire and water. After having diner in another locals favorite, a Vietnam barbecue, we got on the motorbike tired but happy, at nearly midnight and shops and restaurants around us were closing. Feeling the bike handling a bit strange I noticed a flat tyre and 8 km from the hostel at around midnight I was not sure what to do. We got back to the restaurant and while the very helpful and nice young but non English speaking waiters were cleaning  and closing, we started pointing to the flat tyre with a helpless expression. One of the boys got on his bike and I followed him to a small street stall for tyre reparation, suddenly noticing I had left my wallet with Belen, I tried to explain him I had to go forth and back. When again a typhoon downpour started, he waited with me and finally negotiated the price for the reparation with the shop owner and refused any tip I wanted to give him. I then picked up Belen in the restaurant and after thanking all the restaurant staff for their helpfulness we dressed in our rain ponchos and under buckets full of water made it back to the restaurant. This is the pleasure of staying away from the tourist areas and the memory we have of the Vietnamese youth and students.

Al día siguiente tomamos la misma moto y salimos con dirección a un complejo de templos de la cultura Cham: My Son. No era nada comparado a las ruinas y templos de Angkor Wat, esto era mucho más pequeño, y menos templos... Pero la similitud era bastante parecida, en cuanto a arquitectura y estilo. La parte triste de este complejo de templos, es que muchos de ellos están en ruinas a causa de las bombas que cayeron cuando los aviones de USA bombardearon la zona... (Una vez más aparece USA en este blog, sin que estemos viajando por ahí) Una lástima que lugares con tanta historia y cultura sean destruidos en guerras, por lo menos a mí me da mucho coraje, ver las terribles consecuencias que trae una guerra, destrucción entera de pueblos, familias civiles, niños. No se dan cuenta que  destruyendo y dejando en ruinas lugares llenos de historia como templos o lugares sagrados, construcciones milenarias patrimonio de la humanidad... Se destruye también parte de historia que no volverá jamás? Sin duda, este viaje me ha ayudado a conocer la historia de países como Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos... Historia y conflictos que no te enseñan en el colegio, conflictos en los que intervino USA, y lamentablemente no como Salvador ni apoyo a los débiles. 

On our last day in Da Nang we cruised around along the coast, to a few viewpoints and temples and tried crossing as many bridges as we could. While crossing one of the bridges, we came across the fishing harbour, which should not be interpreted as a small hamlet like waterfront with a few rustic wooden boats, but with hundreds of 60 feet industrial fishing vessels. The view was beautiful but also visualized the destruction this fishing can do to our oceans if all  these vessels trail their long lines or nets behind them. On the other hand, on the beach a few kilometers away, people were still fishing using artisanal methods, trying to get over the waves in a big bamboo basket pulling a 50 m long net out from the coast, out into the sea and then the other end back to the coast making some sort of U shape. This net was then pulled back to the beach by around 10 people and the catch, consisting of a lot of rubbish, an odd squid, and fishes ranging from 3 cm to 20 cm, sorted. Buyers on motorcycles showed up and the more attractive catch was immediately sold, while the smaller fishes without a doubt would be dried in the sun for fish pastes and sauces of all sorts. The contrast of these different fishing methods and scales in the same area was beautiful and menacing at the same time, with the big gains going to the big multinational fishing companies without paying the price for the overfishing (this is what I imagine based on my knowledge of the sustainability and best practices reputation of the exploitation of the South China Sea). In the evening, we couldn't resist to go back to our Ban Xeo place which was packed to the roof but once having conquered a table, didn't let us down.

El último día en Da Nang salimos a dar un paseo en moto por los alrededores ... Fuimos a un par de templos ubicados en la cima de un cerro, paseamos por la playa, cruzamos varios de los puentes de Danang teniendo vistas magníficas del río y por el otro lado el mar y el puerto pesquero. Disfrutamos realmente de nuestro paso por Da Nang... Fue una de las ciudades que más disfrutamos, y sin duda volvería... A pesar de que tuvimos mucha lluvia y más de una vez tuvimos que refugiarnos bajo algún techo para no terminar empapados. Esta ciudad tenía algo que te atrapaba... Al menos a nosotros. De Da Nang salimos con destino a la estación de trenes donde nos esperaba un corto viaje de 2 horas, pero con vistas espectaculares de la costa de Vietnam, playas escondidas entre palmeras, montaña y túneles. Frente a nosotros estaba sentada una señora muy simpática que nos observaba con curiosidad pero timidez a la vez, nos miraba y estudiaba de arriba abajo y una vez que yo la miraba ella desviaba la mirada hacia otro lado como evitando contacto visual, hasta que en una de esas fui más rápida que ella y la mire y sonreí ...y ella me devolvió la sonrisa, no hablaba inglés, pero no fue necesario el idioma para entendernos, compartió sus dulces vietnamitas y caña de azúcar con nosotros, nosotros compramos fruta y también la compartimos con ella... Y así se nos hizo el viaje más ameno hasta que llegamos a nuestro destino...la ciudad imperial antigua de Hue. 

The next day we said goodbye to this friendly city which had treated us extremely well and generous and got back on the south north rail axis in the direction of Hue, the old imperial city. Hue was only a few hours away but the train ride is considered to be one of the most beautiful in Asia and we had a spectacular afternoon ride. On a bendy track where you could see front and back of the train in a curve and along ocean cliffs and deserted palm beaches, gaining height to get over the mountain pass with the roaring of the Diesel engine and the shrieking of the steel. Besides of independent transport, train traveling is without a doubt my favorite and I wonder what its future is; bright on one hand with incredible tracks being made, under Chinese impulse through out Asia, but bleak on other sides suffering from crumbling, maintenance intensive infrastructure and fast low cost air transport. The incredible ride took us to the gates of the ancient empire and to our 3 star hotel....how did we get there?

Ho Chi Minh, Welcome to Vietnam

After a pleasantly easy border crossing we arrived in Ho Chi Minh City or Saigon, one of those Vietnam War movie names. The first thing that called our attention was the non stop stream of motorcycles and zero regard for zebra crossings making walking, especially with a backpack a challenge. In Saigon, we had opted for our first experience with couchsurfing, staying on somebody's couch, and our host would be Trang in the residential area of District 10, a bus ride away from the city center. While we wouldn't have as much interaction with our host as we hoped, it was great staying in a residential area, eating and drinking our Vietnamese coffee with locals and hopping on a bus to the main attractions if we wished to. 

Cruzamos la frontera de Cambodia a Vietnam sin tanto trámite y bastante rápido, dejándonos el bus en la ciudad más grande de Vietnam: Ho Chi Minh. Apenas llegamos sin siquiera haberme bajado del bus me gustó esta ciudad. Empecé a ver por la ventana del bus, indicios de una ciudad más moderna, mejor infraestructura, menos pobreza, muchos restaurantes y cafeterías, bastante más limpia de lo que me esperaba. Cuando bajamos del bus en un paradero cercano al lugar donde nos hospedaríamos, nos dimos cuenta del monstruo que habitaba la ciudad: la cantidad exagerada de motocicletas, andando a alta velocidad y en todas direcciones, nunca entendimos cuál era el sentido correcto de desplazarse, manejaban en todas direcciones, se cruzaban de acera a acera sin esperar ni mirar, y claro ninguna consideración por el pase peatonal, aquí cruzabas como podías. Aun así, me gusto Ho Chi Minh. 

A first happy encounter in Vietnam was the coffee, with cafes lining every street from Saigon and Hanoi to the smallest village, much like Italian espresso bars where one can walk in, order his favorite coffee, have a seat and a drink at any time of the day. Vietnamese coffee has a sweetish chocolaty flavor and can be ordered in all varieties, hot or cold, with or without milk, big or small, but without a doubt our favorite was the cafe sua da. While I am a big mug American black coffee man, this ice coffee on a bottom of condensed milk was delicious on almost any part of the hot days. Strangely, I have been told that Vietnam is a robusta grain producer, exporter and consumer contrary to our habits of arabica grains.

El lugar donde nos quedamos era en el departamento de una niña vietnamita que hacía "Couchsurfing", es decir te daba un espacio para dormir sin cobro alguno, solo por la experiencia del intercambio cultural, tener gente extranjera en su hogar, practicar el inglés y ayudar al forastero. El barrio no era nada turístico, estábamos en una zona donde solo había gente local, pero a 15 min en bus podíamos llegar al centro de la ciudad. Nos gustó muchísimo los alrededores de nuestro hospedaje y disfrutamos de salir a conocer nuestro nuevo barrio, sentándonos en un café (que a propósito, el mejor café que hemos probado esta en Vietnam) viendo a la gente pasar, paseando por los mercados, visitando los restaurantes donde come la gente local... Y ni qué decir de la comida... Para mí fue sin duda alguna, la MEJOR comida que he probado en todo el viaje, la comida vietnamita... Era una explosión de sabores en tu boca cada vez que probabas un bocado, mucho ajo, limón, ají, menta, cebollin, salsas... Mi momento favorito del día era la hora de desayuno, almuerzo y cena. Claramente mi intención de no comer "carnes" llegó hasta que puse los pies en Vietnam... No pude resistir a tanta oferta de comida exquisita. 

Our first stop in Saigon was a short stroll through the colonial town where we visited the magnificent post office designed by Gustave Eiffel and with even more magnificent painted maps on the wall of Saigon in colonial times and the extent of the late 19th century telegraph lines. The cathedral, next to the post office, was a much photographed building, noteworthy as a minorities place of worship but bleak compared to their European counterparts. After another delicious Vietnamese lunch the War Remnants museum was waiting for us with a few shot down Apache helicopters outside. A first odd detail was that what I always knew as the Vietnam War is in Vietnam known as the American war which in the end makes perfect sense. Apart from a small, rather one sided, refresh of the prelude, the actual war and the aftermath, the most interesting part of the museum was a multinational exhibition of photographs from the war. The exhibition, including journalists from all sides, showed the emergence of modern war correspondents, with journalists and photographers on the frontline and the battlefield, sometimes giving their own lives to bring about the stories of atrocities, suffering, bravery, victories, death and loss. Technology has advanced and cameramen do not have to carry around with different types of photosensitive films anymore but still put their life on the line and I remembered how I was deeply moved by the death of .... reporting on the Lybian civil war and killed in a blast.

En el mismo departamento donde estábamos haciendo el Couchsurfing se estaba quedando simultáneamente una francesa que vive en Cambodia y que se encontraba en Ho Chi Minh por un par de días, por lo que salimos a conocer la ciudad con Maia...quien a su vez había vivido un tiempo en Argentina y estaba feliz de poder practicar su español con nosotros. Visitamos el centro de la ciudad, pasando por el mercado central, la Catedral de Ho Chi Minh con todo ese estilo Francés, la oficina de Correos, el museo de guerra de Vietnam donde una vez más nos vimos afectados al ver fotografías y leer relatos de todas las atrocidades que ocurrieron durante la guerra. Por lo menos yo, quede espantada de todas las veces en que Estados Unidos ha estado presente en países del Sudeste asiático donde se ha desarrollado algún tipo de conflicto... Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos... Bombardeando muchas veces pueblos de gente inocente, civiles que vivían trabajando en sus campos... Lo perdieron todo al recibir el spray que lanzaban aviones de las fuerzas armadas de USA con el llamado "Orange Agent" que se trataba de químicos que mataban todo tipo de vegetación, como consecuencia  envenaron animales que se alimentaban de estos pastos y contaminaron rios de donde la gente sacaba agua para cocinar o sacaba peces para comer... Hasta el día de hoy esos químicos siguen haciendo efecto y el número de personas que nacen con malformaciones o problemas mentales es terrible.

The next day we took a tour guided by local university students and visited the presidential palace where once Russian made tanks burst through the gates to bring the palace under north Vietnamese control. The palace itself, a masterpiece of modern Indochinese architecture, is beautifully decorated and gave an interesting point of view on recent Vietnamese history. A stroll over the wide open Ho Chi Minh Boulevard took us from the Party's headquarters to the surprisingly undeveloped and underused waterfront. Wandering back we suddenly found ourselves in a maze of backstreets with Japanese restaurants and massage salons, clearly designed for a community of Japanese expats, and satisfied Belen's appetite for Sushi. Our stroll continued to one of the oldest Taoist temples in the city, where many people came for their prayers and offerings, again making me conscious how little we know of the cosmos and the endless pantheon of all the varieties of these South East Asian religions. While at first sight, feeding fish and turtle for good luck, burning paper money for prosperity, putting rice and fruits in front of statues of fierce looking warrior gods and half gods and lighting incense for the ancestors seemed a bit odd to me, drinking wine and eating cookies pretending to drink blood and eating human flesh might certainly seem odd to others, and lighting a candle for a blue veiled young lady or a marble stone is not that different at all. While witnessing these local acts of worship, a thunderstorm of magnitude broke out and we sat for a while contemplating and reflecting on what we saw. As there is only so much time you can contemplate, and as the roof started leaking in parts we decided to make a run for the cafe on the other side of the street but upon leaving the temple found the inner yard and street with 50 cm of water, result of ongoing urbanization with no regard for proper drainage. After waiting for a half an hour and seeing no improvement we took of our shoes and waded to the cafe after which the water started retreating.

El día siguiente hicimos un tour por el centro histórico de la ciudad guiados por un par de estudiantes universitarios que nos llevaron nuevamente al mercado central, luego pasamos por el palacio presidencial, la catedral ... Terminando nuestro recorrido en un restaurante de comida vietnamita, eligiendo cosas diferentes a las que habíamos probado el día anterior... Qué difícil se nos hacía, todo parecía delicioso... Y la verdad, que lo fue. Después de nuestro almuerzo, nos dirigimos a visitar el templo más antiguo de la religión Taoísta en Ho Chi Minh. Era un templo pequeño, con un patio en la parte frontal, en el patio había un árbol enorme, con raíces que levantaban el piso... Se notaba que era un árbol con cientos de años encima. El interior del templo era oscuro y solo iluminado por velas, la mayoría de la decoración en rojo y dorado, gente haciendo ofrendas a los diferentes dioses... Dejaban fruta y agua a los pies de las estatuas, prendían inciensos, velas, se arrodillaban y rezaban ... Tal cual y cómo lo hacen los católicos. Después de haber estado media hora recorriendo las salas y habitaciones del templo, escuchamos el estruendo de un trueno y se rompe a llover... Pensamos en esperar un rato a que pase la lluvia... Pero estuvimos cerca de 40 minutos esperando dentro del templo, y nada... No paraba la lluvia. Cuando decidimos salir y ver si podríamos al menos cruzar al café del frente para esperar ahí ... Nos dimos con la sorpresa de que todo el patio frontal del templo estaba completamente inundado... Habíamos quedado aislados de la calle, el agua tenía por lo menos una altura de 50 cm... Por lo que Johan se saco las zapatillas, guardo las medias... Y me dejo treparme en su espalda para cargarme y cruzar el pequeño río que se había formado en la puerta del templo... Claramente se llevó los aplausos de todos los vietnamitas que estaban en el café del frente, mirando el show de todos los turistas al salir del templo. 

The last day in Saigon we took a bus to one of the outskirts in search of a typical dish we had read about and who's best servings where far from the tourist and city center. Getting off the bus a stop, and literally a bridge too far, we had to walk back over the bridge with beautiful views on the Saigon skyline and being the big attraction for passing traffic, only a foreigner can be so stupid as to walk.... Being far from the tourist infrastructure, Belen took advantage to get in one of the many vintage second hand cloth stores, set up by young Vietnamese entrepreneurs and importing used designer clothes from Japan. I enjoyed a shave in one of the local barbers, which included shaving beard, moustache, ears, nose, cheeks, neck, front of my head and even eyelids which I never realized were hairy (still not sure) than a bit of whitening powder and a head and neck massage and I was ready to go. For a minute I considered an earcleaning, a popular Vietnamese practice, where a barber with a miners lamp on the head delicately removes all wax from your ears, sticks it onto your arm to show off his work, leaves you with supersonic hearing and if you are lucky with an eargasm, as I read in the abundantly available internet sources on Vietnamese earcleaning. Because the barber has a standard set of equipment used for everyone, I opted out last minute considering the eargasm not a worthwhile trade off for a minimal risk of hepatitis. For future Vietnam travelers in search of something different, the recomended practice is to get your own set of tools (tweezers, feathers, scrapers and cottons) and carry these around with you. Do not hesitate if you have any further questions.

Nuestro último día en Ho Chi Minh, decidimos tomar un bus que nos llevó a un barrio fuera del rango turístico, donde Johan había leído de un buen restaurante... Caminamos por el barrio, haciendo algunas paradas: una peluquería donde Johan fue atendido por un vietnamita, el cual no tenía ni pelos en la cara, ni en el brazo... Y creo que se vio sorprendido por la cantidad de pelo que veía en Johan... Pues lo sentó y empezó a sacar cuchillas, tijeras, tijeritas, todo tipo de navajas para dejar completamente limpio y sin pelos a Johan... Con decir que hasta le pasó la navaja por la frente y párpados! Yo cerraba los ojos de nervios al ver las navajas en zonas tan delicadas, pero el resultado fue magnífico...quedo más guapo! La segunda parada fue en una tienda donde vendían ropa de segunda y cosas nuevas que traían de Japón y USA, así que aproveche y me hice de algunas cosas que me hacía falta reponer. Finalmemte fuimos en busca del restaurante que Johan había investigado... El cual parece que había cambiado de dirección o ya no existía, dado que nunca lo encontramos... Terminamos almorzando en un restaurante chico probando por primera vez el Ban Xeo... Uno de nuestros platos favoritos en todo Vietnam! Te servían una fuente con diferentes verduras, carne de cerdo asada, tofu, tú mismo armabas tu rollo en papeles de arroz y luego los bañabas en una salsa dulce picante... Uhmmmm de pensar, se me hace agua la boca. 

Finally came the moment to take the night sleeper train. We had taken a few trains so far, the longest one being the 6 hour morning ride from Yogyakarta to Jakarta. Now a 14 hour ride waited us to the city of Danang. I had walked to the station that morning and I just love to be in and around train stations with all their movement and stories. It took me 15 minutes waiting queuing at the counter to figure out how things are done, you just throw money and a passport on the counter desk repeating your destination once in a while completely ignoring all other people that might be queuing or trying to get a ticket. I got our beds on the train, the cheapest off course, which consisted of a 6 bed sleeper compartment, the higher up the cheaper so we had 2 top beds. As such we did miss the relative luxury and privacy of a private cabin but we also enjoyed being surrounded by mainly Vietnamese copassengers. After a good Vietnamese dinner we got onto the platform to take the Reunification Express, running from Saigon to Hanoi. The first challenge was to get our huge backpacks stored away, the second challenge getting on the top berth and last but not least where to put my legs. After a short struggle I was sweating and puffing but happy to hear the train horn and the clicks of the wheels on the rails speeding up. Another Vietnamese particularity are hard beds, not that I am very fussy, but the kind of hard which makes you wake up and turn around every hour to give the hips some relief, and this train was no exception. We thoroughly enjoyed the 14 hours in the train and also had our first encounter with the supposedly famous Vietnamese scams, when somebody ran off with a big banknote for a coffee, and only returned us the change after the intervention of a brave university student who shared our cabin. Some people leave Vietnam full of bitterness and resentment (according to their blogs) but we decided just to be cautious and not letting a bad experience color our memories of the beautiful places and good people we had met so far. And finally I sometimes reflect, who has ever compensated for colonial terror and pillage or for relentless and indiscriminate bombing.... is there something as a historical debt?  To Danang we got....

Y llegó el momento de decir adiós a Ho Chi Minh, dirigirnos a la estación de trenes para tomar un tren con destino a Danang. Antes habíamos viajado en tren... A traves de Indonesia y Malasya, pero nunca habíamos usado uno para dormir. Fue nuestro primer viaje (de muchos) donde en vez de buscar por un asiento, buscábamos el número de habitación, donde al ingresar tenias 2 camarotes con 3 camas en cada uno. En total 6 camas por habitación, donde Johan y yo tomamos las de arriba. Al inicio me costaba un poco llegar a esas camas de lo alto, pero ahora con la práctica me las trepó cual hombre araña. Disfrutamos de nuestro viaje nocturno en tren.. A la mañana siguiente Johan casi fue estafado por uno de los vendedores un suben al tren y quiso venderle un café y dos panes por 25 dólares... cuando en realidad te deberían cobrar no más de 5 dólares, menos mal que una de las personas con las que compartíamos la habitación se percató de la estafa que nos estaban haciendo e indignada salió a buscar al vendedor del café  a reclamar que nos den el vuelto completo y recuperar nuestro dinero... Luego además de salir en nuestra defensa... Una vez ya sentados en la habitación y disfrutando del paisaje por la ventana... Nos invitó de sus bocadillos vietnamitas que tenía para desayunar... Ella se bajó una estación antes que nosotros, nos despedimos con un abrazo cariñoso, le agradecimos por habernos ayudado y nos alistamos para bajar en la siguiente parada... Danang.