Hi all So, we arrived in Hue late afternoon, and were obviously dropped at a hotel owned by the driver's brother or whatever, but decided it was a bit out of the way. So off we set in the rain to find one closer to where the action was. This was the first time I'd carried my rucksack for anything that could even remotely be considerd a distance. Somewhere along the way I must have inadvertently packed a baby elephant by mistake. Note to self - Ditch some of the s*** in it. After about half an hour of slogging along, we finally stumbled into the area we wanted to stay in. Right among the bars and cafes where all the backpackers live. No rooms at the first two we tried. Kimbers and Lau gamely set off to 'budget alley' while me and Mand happily sat down drinking hot coffee and chatting to the guy who worked there. They returned triumphant. A nice hotel for next to no money, about 2 minutes walk away. I love those girls. We got there, checked in, showered and headed out for some food and a few beers. And found the DMZ Bar. And what a bar it is. Really good cheap western food, really good cheap Vietnamese food, cheap drinks, pool table, friendly staff (who started greeting us by name by the second night - 'Ah Neil...like Neil Armstrong, you know him? 'No, but he knows me') and for obvious reasons this became our unofficial headquarters for the time we were there. Not much doing that night except food, beer and pool with the locals and other backpackers. Over the next couple of days, my mornings were spent exploring on my own while the others slept late, then joint exploring in the afternoons and the DMZ Bar of an evening. And to be fair I kind of liked it that way. I had a bit of the 'I wanna do it on my own' bug (inspired no doubt by Bill Bryson - curiously enough) and I really, really enjoyed it. It was made easier by the others refusing to be moved from their beds before 1 in the afternoon. Sweet. On the first day, on my way to the old town, I happened upon a sculpture park. A proper one. With loads of abstract and classical statues and happily spent the next 2 hours or so strolling around it. It was just there. No signs, nothing to give any notice of it's presence. No explanations of what anything was, just loads of 'keep off the grass' notices. It was fantastic. One in particular caught my eye. It was of a man and a woman who looked to be flying, the woman holding a baby out in front of her. Maybe it was just the remains of the alcohol in my system from the night before but I absolutely loved it. Not quite a tear in my eye, but definitely a lump in my pants...I mean throat. I walked on across a huge bridge that connected the new north of the city to the south, ostensibly on my way to the citadel (or old town - ooh ark at me). The bridge is enormous and took a good twenty minutes to walk across, but the views of the river were well worth it. On the other side, I turned left towards the nearest gate to the citadel, and came across another park. Again, not marked in any way, just there, so I strolled through it in the rough direction of where I wanted to be going. I was pretty much the only one there, except for 3 kids of about 12 or 13 breakdancing in the bandstand. Once again I found myself wishing I could breakdance, but after declining an invitiation to join them on the grounds of a bad knee (ahem) I strolled on through. It was sumptuous (new adjective - check it out). Pavillions, flowers blooming, statues, blue skies and blazing sunshine. All beautifully cared for and pretty much pristine. The smell was fantastic, and the noise form the road was a distant hum, despite only being about 30 yards away. Sweet is not the word. Eventually I came out of the other side and found myself more or less exactly where I wanted to be. After stopping for a quick breakfast in a place where the owner was deaf and dumb - it's ok, I can point at a menu in any language including sign - and a quick chat with his son about the state of English football now Chelsea have all that cash (he was actually more outraged than I was, which makes a change from every other f***er over here who thinks Chelsea are simply the best) I made my way into the citadel, through a fabulously ornate gate. Fighting off the obligatory cyclo driver ('Special price for you, very cheap' - he even had the front to sit down and hassle me while I tried to have a peaceful cigarette. How rude!), I set about finding some entertainment in the form of museums. I use the word 'entertainment' fairly loosely you understand. But hey, I was on a cultural roll. Hmmm a cultu-roll. Sorry! Obviously, I headed straight for the General Museum Complex which combines a Military Museum and a Natural History Museum, and was gratified to see a few old tanks and anti-aircraft guns in the grounds. The museum complex itself was closed until 1.30 which was a bit disappointing, but after availing myself of their s***ter I felt much better about things. And on to the Fine Arts Museum which was handily situated right opposite. Not only was it open, it proved to be pretty impressive. Like most museums in Vietnam most of the good things were destroyed in the wars with the French then the US. But what's left is really rather good. Mainly ceramics and clothes, but with a couple of thrones and a sedan thrown in, as well as a game that involves bouncing sticks into a vase (a great favourite of the emperors apparently) it made for good viewing. My own personal favourite was of a huge ceramic urn which was a gift from the French. It was beautiful. It had the same depth to it as marble, that kind of delicate inner light only in deep blue (possibly purple - colour blindness is a curse) and the handles were of exquisitely carved women. I looked at it for about 10 minutes from every angle and was totally captivated. I even went back when I'd looked at everything else and looked for another five. I honestly thought about making the guy on the door an offer for it, and had already checked out the non existent alarm system in case he said no. But it was blatantly not to be (I'd have to carry the thing in my already overweight pack), so I left and bimbled off in search of something new. This turned out to be another park. I'm starting to feel like a wino. Without the wine. Or the dress sense. I settled down on a bench and smoked a cigarette and watched some women washing clothes in the ornamental fountain, then headed off to the Flag Tower to meet the girls. The Flag Tower is a tower with a massive Vietnamese flag on it. That's it really. God, I don't know what you were expecting. On either side of the plaza on which it stands are nine 'holy' cannons. Four on one side representing the seasons, and five on the other representing the five elements - metal, wood, fire and earth. Hmm, not the most interesting sight in the world but it killed a little time while I was waiting for the girls. They arrived (exactly on time believe it or not) and we set off in search of lunch, which turned out to be surprisingly difficult to find. After much walking and very little success we eventually eneded up in a place that sold only one thing. Rice pancakes with fried egg in which you added fried vegetables, salad and sauce to and ate. The sauce was a bit like satay, and the salad had fresh mint in it. It was gorgeous. I mean really gorgeous. And it was about 6p. Kimbers had a proper cold going on, and decided that she'd be better off trying to get rid of it than trying to bulldoze through it (top idea) and Laura didn't fancy a tour of the Imperial Enclosure so they shot off home to read and do whatever girls do when they're not being culture vultures or being drunk. Pillow fighting in their underwear one sincerely hopes. After a quick discussion, me and Mand decided it was too late to have a really good go at the Imperial Enclosure, so we returned to the Museum Complex for some blood and guts. And it was pretty up on that sort of thing. The Natural History Museum was a pretty poor effort, with a few old stones that used to be part of a palace, some old coins and a couple of fossils and I was immediately bored. But the Military Museum was quality. The usual collection of guns, pictures of fighting and the history behind it, battles and heroes and villains, which we finally got to see after Mand had convinced the woman in charge to put the lights on. But best of all, was an anti aircraft gun that you could touch and pull the triggers on. Ok, you weren't supposed to, but this isn't the Tate for f***'s sake. Having sated my bloodlust for another day, we headed back, grabbed the girls and got drunk in the DMZ Bar. Sweet. The next day I was up and out and off to see two of the most important pagodas Hue had to offer. Well, the only two within walking distance anyway. And what a walk it was. Miles. And miles. And miles. After stopping for coffee (they gave me a free fan, free iced tea and some watermelon which was nice) and a quick breakfast, and after waiting at a level crossing for about 20 minutes (a manually operated level crossing where two blokes pulled the gates down the pushed them back up again when the train had gone past) I eventually arrived at the Tu Dam Pagoda. The Tu dam Pagoda was one of the centres for the Anti-Diem (remember him history fans?) Buddhist movement, and saw heavy fighting during the war with the US. It was closed. Really closed. After about 20 minutes of wandering around the grounds I finally came across a group of a dozen or so monks sitting around watching the television. My polite enquiry as to whether or not it was possible to go in and have a look at the temple was met with a dismissive shake of the head and a vague indication that the tv show was much more important. It must've been 'Lost'. If it'd been football I'd have sat down and watched with them. Either way, I took my cue and left felling like I'd just slogged my way across most of Hue in the blazing heat for f*** all. Not to be beaten, I headed off for my second destination which was the Bao Quoc Pagoda. After getting lost a couple of times, I finally found it and walked up the 30 or so steps to the main entrance. It was set in some huge grounds, with a cemetery for monks and 3 or 4 decorative fountains upon which were sat four 6 or 7 year old boys. Smoking cigarettes. How cute. After refusing their offer of a dog end, I shared my water with them and they started practising their English. After the initial 'Can we have some money' spiel, they proceeded to tell me their names and asked where I was from. When I said England the immediate reply was 'Good football. Chelsea are the best'. At this point I took it upon myself to try and educte them. After explaining that Chelsea are s***, and that Portsmouth are the best team in England, and that if anyone ever asks about English football they should simply say 'PFC Rule', I found myself staring into four blank faces. Not to be outdone, they simply told me their names again and asked where I was from. Giving it up as a bad job, I said goodbye and headed into the temple. There's no helping some people. There was no-one in the temple, and no-one to show me around. So I went in on my own and for the first time found myself in absolute solitude in a place of Buddhist worship. I stood transfixed by the three identical gold Buddhas in front of me, and waited for some kind of enlightenment to take place. After 10 minutes or so, nothing was forthcoming so I hightailed it out and headed home. By now I was obviously going to be late to meet the girls and looked around in vain for a moto driver to take me back. Typical, there's never one around when you need one. The street were as bereft of motos and even cyclos for possibly the only time since I've been in Vietnam. Spying a couple of blokes sat next to a motorbike outside a cafe, I boldly strode over and asked if the owner of the bike could give me a lift. Once I'd explained (by pointing at the map) where I wanted to go, the bloke looked at me in astonishment and said 10000. Works for me. And after directing him (I'm like a native) to the DMZ Bar which he shot past with me whacking him on the shoulder shouting 'stop', he then asked some real locals who sent him back to where I'd told him. And I was only 10 minutes late. Beautiful. After lunch and a discussion about what the Imperial Enclosure was all about, Kimbers and Laura retired once more to their rooms (where they presumably had fresh pillows and underwear waiting) and me and Mand set off in a couple of cyclos. My guy thought he was the funniest bloke since Benny Hill and promptly took my sunnies and put them on while driving. After about 2 seconds he whipped them off and stared at me with a dazed look in his eyes and asked in broken English 'What is wrong with my eyes?'. That'll show him I thought. Wrong. He then made a big show of stroking my arms and calling me monkey, then stroking my head and calling me monk. He got into a kind of rhythm, shouting 'monkey, monk, monkey, monk' which was made 20 times worse by Mand laughing her head off and pointing at me. Needless to say, no tip for that f***er. But we'd made it to the Imperial Enclosure and despite the fact I was already fooked and suffering slightly from culture fatigue, we headed gamely in. Now to be perfectly honest, I wasn't that up for it by now but even so, for the first half hour or so I was pretty impressed. Then I got bored. And grouchy. Hoardes of Japanese tourists and rude sceptics everywhere. Grrrr. But as it was really my fault for going off on my own and ODiing on culture, and Mand was being wildly enthusiastic I tried to make the most of it. In the end we opted for a mammoth stroll round the gardens which included some real live working elephants. They'd had their tusks sawn off and to be fair were being kept in seriously horrible conditions, with about 2 feet of chain leading to a peg in the ground. But hey, that's life. 'Just remember Dumbo' I wanted to tell them. Back inside the internal complex, I was rudely pushed past by yet another sceptic who then proceeded to stand right in front of me even though she could see I was trying to take a photo. Rather than kick her in the arse - excuse me - ass I elected to moan loudly about her to Mand. She didn't even look round. Time to leave before one more Yank met their maker on Vietnamese soil. Outside we jumped into another cyclo (who we managed to talk into going the wrong way - maybe I'm not such a native)and headed off for a beer and a game of pool. Along the way, I entertained Mand with a selection of songs I'd learned in Primary School. I knew I'd find a use for them somewhere. The game of pool turned into a massive training session for Mand, who wanted to learn how to put spin on the ball. After what seemed like a week, she finally had eough and we headed back for showers, food and more beer. On the first night in DMZ Bar I'd been befriended by a local boy named Hoang. Nothing wrong with that. Until he asked me if Mand was my girlfriend. When I answered in the affirmative his face dropped and I figured he just liked Mand. Not quite. Once again my gaydar has failed me miserably on this trip, just when I need it the most. To make matters worse, one of the other Vietnamese blokes in the bar cottoned onto this and began making jokes at my expense. Late in the week he asked 'Where's your girlfriend, is he sleeping?'. I say jokes, this for me was tending more toward the abusive. Well, it did after I'd had a beer or two. It wouldn't be so bad but I couldn't beat the little s*** at pool either. Ah well, what can you do? On another night in the DMZ these two little headcases walked in. They looked like Vietnamese Paulsgrove loons. One was about 19, the other about 15. I spotted them a mile off, the swagger, the violence in the eyes, the way they looked at everyone for a lot longer than necessary. As I was about to play a shot, the older one comes over and starts yelling at me to pot it in a different pocket and throwing money in my face. Wads and wads of it. Okey dokey then. I potted it in a different one with an exquisite long double the length of the table. This sent psycho boy into raptures. He starts throwing even more money in my face and yelling even louder. After Hoang had translated, it turns out he wants me to teach him to play. Hardly. By now, all the locals are looking worried. Really worried. And when the guy turns back to the bar and sits down, there's an almost audible sigh of relief. When I go back to my seat, his mate is sitting in the one behind, just staring at me. Really staring at me. I smiled at him and after about 4 seconds more staring (that's a long f***ing time to stare at someone) he kind of half smiles and finishes his beer in one go, and smashes his bottle back down. A kind of nervous peace descends on the bar. It couldn't last. A few minutes later, one of the other guys is just about to take a shot and the older psycho is up shouting in his ear and waving money around again. Huong looks at the bar staff who are blatantly not going to do anything and to his credit steps over and says something to him. The dude turns round and I swear to god I thought he was going to bottle him right there. I was kind of half out of my seat (fight or flight, I'm not even sure myself) when the guy just starts pushing Huong and pointing outside. After a few seconds he f***s off back to the bar, and I decide enough is enough. I'm offski. Huong decides to come with me and explains that the guy is indeed the local psycho, a fact confirmed the following day by all the bar staff. As we were walking, he looked nervous as fook. I thought he was looking to me for protection on his way home. Then, later I thought maybe he was looking to make sure I got home safe. Neither of which seemed absolutely right. After I found out he was gay, something clicked. He looked nervous like a kid out on a date wondering whether or not to make a play. He didn't. Thank heaven for small mercies. Fair play to him though. He's only human. He's not made of wood, and I am an incredibly good looking bloke :o) Laters all xxxxxxxxxxxxx