Hi all So, our overnight bus to Hue turned out to be spot on, which is a bit gutting in a way. But hey, who am I to complain? For some reason though, no-one got much sleep. Don't know why, just one of those things. Like why nothing ever costs exactly a pound. Or a multiple thereof. I genuinely believe that a party could tip a general election in their favour, just by agreeing to introduce a 99p piece, and so relieve half the country from the obligatory spare change jar full of 1 and 2 pence pieces. You know, the one you never ever change up, because you know even though it weighs a ton, there's only ever about 3 pound 37 in there. Which means even if you do change it up, there's enough left over to start all over again. The final stop before Hue, was at a place called Dong Ha. The bus stopped at a cafe (as they are wont to do) and we didn't really think much of it. Just settled down for a coffee and some noodles (at 6.30 in the morning mind you) and a chat. The owner comes over and starts trying to flog us a tour of the Demilitarised Zone (DMZ) and to be fair I was only half listening (it'd been a long night). But something he said caught my ear. If we wanted to do it as a day trip from Hue (pronounced Howay as in Howay The Lads) we'd have to get the bus at 6.30 in the morning. This had been our original idea, but then the penny dropped that it was already 6.30 am and we didn't really want to see too many of those (unless it was on the way back to a hotel), so we readily signed up. And I am so glad we did. We bimbled around for a bit more, then the guy let us shower upstairs, even providing towels, and then we hopped into his minivan and off we went. Just the 4 of us, him and the driver. Fantastico. The guide (whose name rather predictably escapes me, as does the name of the cafe he owns) was splendid. Excellent English and a real enthusiasm. Which is just as well. Because it started to rain. Really rain. Monsoon some would call it. By the end of the tour, we were driving along rivers. I'm not exaggerating. But hey, our ever obliging host had brought not only the standard polythene festival macs, but umbrellas too. This dude was the real deal. First stop was the Con Thien Firebase. This was part of the McNamara's Wall. McNamara's Wall (named after the then Secretary of defence) was a 25 mile long 'wall' of landmines, barbed wire, infra red intrusion detectors and acoustic sensors, all interspersed with bunkers for US marines to respond to any intrusion by the Northern Vietnamese into Southern Vietnam. They could also phone in for airstrikes if they saw anything untoward. The US dropped more bombs on this province of Vietnam than they dropped on the whole of Europe in World War 2. The DMZ is quite possibly the most bombed place on the planet. The number that didn't explode are estimated at between 10 - 15% or around 350,000 tonnes countrywide. Just lying around. Rusting. We were most definitely told 'Don't stray from the path' (said in my best West Country American Werewolf In London voice), because there is a very real chance of doing the 20 yard splits. Imagine our nervousness then, when our guide took us cross country to get to the base. Well ok, it wasn't really cross country, but the track we were following was just big enough to walk down, and the actual approach to the bunker was overgrown. Along the way, we came across a rubber tree farm (or condom forest as our guide smilingly informed us) which I've never seen before. Latex coming out of a tree. And being caught in a metal cup nailed to it. Weird, man. As we came out of this, we were greeted by a wasteland. No trees for miles and miles and miles. 'It used to be a dense jungle here' our guide told us, 'but the Americans bombed it out of existence. Now no-one can replant because of all the unexploded bombs lying around'. Nice. Apparently 40,000 tonnes of bombs were dropped on this area alone. I can't really describe the scale of it other than it was f***in enormous. No trees either. The gas attacks saw to that. This was the poison gas (over her they call it DOC but I've no idea what it actually is) that the US dropped to kill all the trees so as they could better see the Viet Cong. Along with the napalm obviously. 1000s of acres perished. Trouble is, the gas turned out to be non too good for anyone who breathed it, and they mostly turned out to be villagers. Cue babies born with no legs, no arms and God knows what else. The only good thing is that those babies that survived, their babies are fine. A small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless. All this related by someone who lived through it makes for really uncomfortable listening. Despite not being American, I almost felt like apologising. So, there we are in this virtual wasteland and in amongst it is a concrete bunker. With bullet holes and chunks missing from it all over the place. This is what remains of the firebase. Standing inside it was a trifle surreal. Bullet holes everywhere while the guide explained that this bunker saw some of the heaviest fighting. The VC fought to take the bunker for pretty much 24 hours before they succeeded, with the US dropping bombs all round them, but eventually the US surrendered. As the guy stood there telling us about his friends that died there, he started to well up, but his voice held steady. What I really wanted to ask him was whether or not he'd fought there. He'd told us earlier that he'd been about 17 when this particular battle was fought and that he'd lived in Dong Ha all his life. But I thought better of it and kept my mouth (for once) well and truly shut. Its a funny thing, but there is no real response when someone is telling you about gas attacks, bullet ridden walls, bomb craters and their friends dying. I felt really ghoulish just being there. And responding with things like 'cool' or 'ok' when he described the devastation he'd witnessed just didn't seem to cover it. In fact made me feel worse. Nothing particularly cool or ok about it. Maybe I should have put him in a headlock, rubbed his head and shouted 'come on, whatevers up with you. Cheer up you miserable sod'. Who knows, it may have helped. Anyway, on the way back to the van, Laura slipped into a muddy puddle up to her ankle and ruined her new trainers. That cheered me up no end. Back in the van and we were off to the Truong Son National Cemetery. Cheery tour or what? We stopped at a cafe opposite (mainly because the rain was by now an absolute deluge), and were treated to a cup of coffee and some big chocolate biscuits by our guide. Kimbers eyes when she bit into one actually seemed to take over her entire face. To be fair though, they were really good. Then we went over and took a look at the Cemetery. This really was the most ghoulish tour I've ever been on. I started to feel like one of the Munsters. Lurking in a graveyard in a storm saying things like 'That's beautiful'. Weird. But to be fair it was beautiful. The cemetery is split up into provinces, with the names, birth and death dates on a simple white cross (about 57,000 in all) next to some of which are urns containing ashes. There are also a huge number without urns, dedicated to MIAs. One of the many statues is dedicated to a female 'martyr', and shows her astride the top of a tank with a grenade in her hand. She singlehandedly took the tank before being killed, and became something of a symbol for the Vietnamese people. Which doesn't help me as once again her name escapes me (but don't worry, the Rebel MC is still there). There are various other monuments (a bit like bandstands) about the place, and under one there were a herd of cows sheltering from the rain. I found this really funny for no particular reason. I think the rain was beginning to affect me. Back in the van then, and we were off to the next place and to be honest, none of us has a clue as to what it was. We pulled up on a bridge whereupon the guide chatted about what it was. Unfortunately, the rain was smashing down so hard on the roof of the van we couldn't hear a single word he said. So after a couple of minutes of us nodding dumbly whenever we thought we should, he asked us if we wanted to walk down and see the 'old' bridge. There was a moment of silence while we all looked round at each other, then outside at the torrential downpour, and we decided it probably wasn't that important. Our guide seemed to agree and the look of relief on his face was mirrored in ours. On we went to the next place which was Cua Trung Beach. This was essentially a beach that had housed a few VC villages and had been pummeled out of existence. Bomb craters within bomb craters led away, presumably into the distance. I say presumably, because due to the rain visibilty was now down to about 2m. We had driven through rivers which 3 hours before would probably have been quite nice roads to get there. After 10 minutes of photos (of holes in the ground?) we were back in and off to the next sight. Doc Mieu Base. Another part of McNamara's Wall. There is absolutely nothing left of this at all, except an old tank. 'Everything else has been stripped and dug over by scrap metal hunters' our guide explained, though he had no idea why the tank was still there. He then gave us a rather detailed lecture on the differences between tanks, and some other even more boring facts on various instruments of war. So vietnam has it's fair share of nerds too. Good to know. We posed for pictures next to the tank, just to show willing and then we were back in the van and off to our final destination. The Vinh Moc tunnels. On the way, the rain stopped. As if by magic. One minute torrential driving rain, the next, blue skies and songbirds. Bizarre, but not unwelcome. We picked up an official guide at the reception desk, who spoke impeccable English with a French accent. Like the French he seemed ever so bored and blase, like we were keeping him from a really rather important meeting with a Governmental attache. To be fair he probably does this tour 30 times a day, but even so, play the game son. We started in the museum where he boredly went over an incredibly brief history of one or two of the first pieces. Hoping to shock him into some sort of state approaching usefulness, I asked a question about the Geneva Accord (just to show we weren't the average know nothing tourists - we were average know nothing tourists, but he didn't know that). This illicited a surprised response. Well, he looked at me in that way some people have. Maitre ds and butlers mostly. Even though he was facing me full on, it was like he was looking at me from the corner of his eyes, and he raised a single solitary eyebrow. I'd give anything to be able to do that. I've practiced for hours in the mirror and just keep looking like I've had a dodgy face lift. Or like a ventriloquist doll. Anyway, after that he swanned off outside and left us alone to look at the pictures. Cool. After a delayed look at all the pictures (we were quite enjoying making him wait) we stepped outside and he took us down into the tunnels. They were pretty cool. But to be honest, a bit of an anticlimax. You see, they were untouched. Not enlarged for the tourists, but kept exactly how they were when the war ended. So I was expecting to feel a little cramped and was quite looking forward to grubbing around in the ground like a mole. Trouble is, these were not fighting tunnels. They were living tunnels. This is where the villagers used to come when the bombing raids went on, sometimes for days. It was impressive, don't get me wrong. They had everything down there. Rooms for families, maternity wards, hospital, the works. 17 babies were born down there. Great. They are set over 3 levels, the lowest of which is 30 odd metres down. Great. They had huge ventilation shafts and exits onto the beach. Great. Don't get me wrong, it was very impressive. And had the guide been a bit more enthusiastic, I'm sure we'd have got stories of what had happened down there to really bring it to life. This guy even told us to hurry up if he thought we might keep him away from his urgent business for one single second than was absolutely necessary. The real fun was walking around in the dark, trying not to bang your head, and/or fall over on the slippery steps. It was a bit like going through the cave in Paulsgrove chalkpit. Only not so much fun. Eventually, we emerged into daylight, where it started to rain again. Beautiful. I think our guide expected a tip. Don't forget your wellies in the rain was about the best he got. We left, and I felt somehow cheated. I'd been looking forward to this for weeks and it was pretty impressive. Just not quite what I was looking for. But still, we'd be going to The Chu Chi tunnels outside Ho Chi Minh City in a few weeks, so maybe that'll prove a bit more gratifying. These are proper fighting tunnels (like you see in the films - trapdoors, weapons making facilities, the works) and although they've been enlarged for the tourists, a small Aussie bloke we'd met in Hanoi had told me that even he'd found them claustrophobic. Happy days. Back in the van and we were off back to the cafe, where we were treated to some seriously good food. I swear to god Vietnam is THE place for seafood and hospitality, and after eating far more than any of us really could, we were bundled into a minibus for the short hop to Hue. Our short stop in the DMZ had been ghoulish in the extreme, uncomfortable in places for sure, soggy for definite, interesting and informative. Just the way us culture vultures like it. Let's hope Hue is just as good. Laters all xxxxxxxxxxxxxx