Zombie time

Friday addendum.

A last minute shopping frenzy in Sapa. I think I'm now the only person who doesn't have a pair of converse trainers on this trip.

After a terrifying drive down from Sapa back to Lao Cai to catch the train back to Hanoi (twisty roads in the dark, overtaking on blind corners etc), we had a horrible but functional dinner at Le Bordeaux in Lao Cai. Too many dodgy stomachs for viet food and a long train trip.

We were actually quite relieved to get to the train because we'd been on our feet all day, but as expected, the train trip was dreadful.  I'm pretty sure I got no sleep at all - I lost all confidence in the driver when I headbutted the wall at one particularly violent breaking manouever; Kyra only dozed, Angela got no sleep, I think everyone else slept like babies.  The train was actually less shakey, but the noise was horrendous.

Saturday

Back at Hanoi by 5.30 am we all crammed into a taxi for seven and headed back to Paradise 1, which was closed up tight. Everyone was looking forward to a couple of hours catchup sleep before breakfast and it looked like we were going to be out of luck.

Ron at this point, jokingly rattled the doors and shouted "hello anybody there!" through the crack, which gave the two porters a very rude awakening as they apparently sleep in the lobby at night.

So after a few apologies, we retired to our rooms for a short kip before breakfast. Everyone bar me actually got some sleep it would seem.

Headed off after breakfast to see Ho Chi Min's (hcm from hereon in) mausoleum. It closes at 11am so we had to rush out and grab a taxi. In our jeans because you can't get in in shorts. Bit warm for jeans but hey. We had every intention of "doing the mausoleum" then shooting back to the hotel so kyra could go to the hospital for the checkup recommended by the insurance company and Angela was going to hit the markets with the kids and Ron. Kyra and I decided to travel light-no cameras, bags water etc. It was quite a liberating experience.

We drummed into the kids the importance of being respectful because the Vietnamese treat this guy like a god. No hands in pockets no mucking around. No talking. No questions. We'll get thrown out of the country if you muck around. 

With the kids suitably forewarned, we got to the hcm mausoleum and were quite surprised to see hoards of schoolchildren and tourists running about and taking photos. This wasn't quite what we were lead to believe would be happening.
After double checking the pamphlets we'd been given, it turns out we're in the hcm museum, not the hcm mausoleum.  So leaving all the Banning's backpacks at the hcm museum we hightailed it over to the hcm mausoleum a few blocks away.

This was more like it. For a start it looked like a mausoleum not a museum. Secondly, there were swanky white uniformed guards at every corner.

We had our second body scan done for the day then had to line up two abreast to march sedately down the boulevard heading toward the entrance, under the beady eyed supervision of the guards all the way. I think this is when the kids started to take what we'd said earlier seriously and we switched to one adult per child.
Once inside where it was cinema quality lighting I was effectively blinded, because my glasses hadn't had time to adjust to the shade. I could just about make out Angela ahead of me and followed with a hand on Callum's shoulder for a guide. Round just a couple more corners we entered the holy of holies. There was little hcm lying in state, guarded by eight guards. It was at this point that Angela nearly got us all shot for walking with her hands behind her back, but she made a good recovery and we all got out in one piece.

We headed back to the hcm museum before it closed for a looksee around the exhibits.  This is a very strange museum. I'm going to have to check up on my history now because I can't believe some of the blatant communist propaganda exhibited here. If it's to be believed, then I'm thoroughly behind what hcm and his party achieved in controlling their own country, but there were such blatant lies about the success of communism to modernise and industrialise Vietnam, that it throws all of the story of the struggle for freedom from repression into doubt.

On a lighter note, I was mugged by some tourists outside the hcm museum to have my photo taken with them. I like to think that those photos will bring a smile to the faces of a japanese family as they thumb eagerly though their holiday snaps - "hey do you remember that guy, he looked like a tall fat Ho Chi Min!"

After the hcm experience we hopped on board some pedalos for a quick trip to the Temple of Literature.  And we were ripped off for 50k by the one who pedalled Kyra and Angela. I guess he thought he'd earned his money's worth.  He was remarkably fast high tailing it out of there with our cash.

Once again, at the Temple I was asked to pose for photos; I must be looking good today despite the bags under my eyes. By comparison Ron only got asked once. HA! Pwned! Christopher doesn't count because he's short, cute and blonde. If they had mantelpieces in japan, he would be sitting on hundreds.

For lunch we went round the corner to Koto. Koto is a restaurant run on the same lines as Jamie Oliver's 15 (only Koto came first). It's run through a charity in Melbourne. They take in street kids and teach them how to run restaurants.  The food was superb and not overly pricy - a great way to spend your twelfth wedding anniversary lunchtime. If there's any Givit girls reading this, see if you can get them signed up before Kyra gets back!

Finally we headed back to the hotel so Kyra could go to the hospital and Angela could hit the markets with Rubester. Christopher tagged along and Ron was pack mule.

The hospital visit went well - all clear (and what's more excellent wireless), but we're still going to check with our own doctor when we get back to Brisbane.

Kyra and I got back to the hotel to find Callum doing some face-time with his "she's not my girlfriend" friend. Quite cute really, but it demonstrates the gulf of difference between western and vietnamese children.

Everyone's gone out for food and more shopping. I gave kyra the last of the 4 mil I got out yesterday. It's been an expensive couple of days. I elected to stay at the hotel to finish blogging and maybe get to bed early-the three vietnamese coffees I had this morning have definitely worn off. Just about 24 hours without sleep now.

Tomorrow we're off for a guided tour to the Perfumed Pagoda. I'm not sure what that's all about yet, but I'm sure they'll be plenty more opportunities for Ron and I to fight over who gets the first photo of the wrinkly old ladies.