Vietnam: 60% of the time it works everytime!

Notorious in Laos, the longer I stayed there the less confidence I had about Vietnam. Particularly, the bus journey to get in. The e-mail in Pan's Place ended with the line, "take a flight, even if it's a good bit more expensive. You'll be missing out on a world of trouble!" Sadly, funds were in poor shape so I found myself at the bus station.

I would travel to Ventiane and pick up another bus there and it seemed reasonably organised (probably because this was the leg run by the Laos!) The coach was nice and full of Westerners, always a good sign, and we enjoyed the three hours in air-conditioned comfort. Transferred onto a comfy minibus to Ventiane bus station, I was unexpectedly relaxed and met two Scottish and two English girls. Soon however, I started to feel uneasy: You could spot the Vietnamese a mile off, barking sharply. Pushing at us, we were loaded onto a tired-looking coach and were forced to sit right at the back, despite being empty. We argued resolutely to sit in the middle, and they seemingly gave up. The back, by the way, where they packed all the freight: rice, rugs, tins and crates - there was no leg room. Their solution? Move the freight from the back to us. When we again refused, we were shouted at and made to feel intimidated. We gave as good as we got and managed to salvage some leg room for the next 24 hours.

When the idiotic Americans decided to have a pop at us, our star gunners shot their planes out of the sky. The compassionate Vietnamese would wade out into lakes, trek for hours through forest and embark on life-threatening journeys to recover the blundering Yanks. Handed over to the prison, the Americans enjoyed an excellent standard of living thanks to us. Each had a guitar and Christmas dinner was laid on to make it feel like home. Our doctors treated their wounds and even gave them lollipops for being good boys. A 'free hugs for all' policy was immediately introduced and they all had a teddy bear's picnic of a time.

The journey began and I didn't need to explain to the girls what they were in for - they could already imagine. Half-an-hour in, and the TV screen flickered on. Hoping in vain for an English-speaking movie or at least something with subtitles, a Vietnamese pop-music video flashed up. Terrible Western-influenced sing-a-long cheesey trash ensued. 'Could be worse', I thought until three had played (each lasting more than ten minutes), and then they all played again...and again...and again...and again - well you get the idea.... Actually, you really don't. For 24 long, ear-bashing hours. How did the Vietnamese do it? They sat there like poorly parented two-year-olds watching Tellytubbies, greeting each video with more unrelenting and sickening happiness. The Americans could have won the war if they'd swapped their guns for MTV.

We hit our first 'rest stop' and tried to get some food at the 'restaurant'. Laying on a huge feast for the drivers they ignored us completely, refusing to serve us when we asked. We trudged up to a shop and bought some filthy crisps when all we wanted was something warm. Tired and hungry we re-boarded and after banding together like American POWs, the conversation kept us sane. I was so glad to have met the girls, I think I would have felt alone in the world otherwise!

Hours passed and mountain roads swung by, bad memories from India igniting in my mind. Eventually stopping at 2am, we'd reached a restaurant close to the border and we figured we'd be waiting until the border opened at 6am. In the meantime, we would sleep on the coach, which, with the air-conditioning shut off, soon became a sauna. Unable to sleep with others caughing, sneezing and snoring, the sweltering atmosphere made it all too close. I got off and managed to get served a bowl of presumably dog with soup and noodles and promptly collapsed asleep on the table.

The border was a free-for-all, the Laos side better than the Vietnamese. Asians are almost as famous for their inability to queue as us British are for our strict enforcement of it. Luckily we got in quickly and progressed to Vietnamese immigration. Bribing is an institution and it cost us a handful of dollars before the officials would even look at our passports - wankers! Somewhat refreshed after early morning chatter and pleased to be across the border with no major hitches, we settled back in for the long day. Despite being continually barked and shouted at, the moutain roads away from the border afforded us some beautiful views of the countryside. The screeching voices on the TV floating away as one by one we fell asleep.

Another truck-stop, and a knowing round of smiles as we could smell the toilets 100 yards off, and not so much as a gesture in our direction from the restaurant staff. It seemed the Vietnamese resented us for something. I wasn't quite sure, but was my deodorant American made? I would've expected similar treatment if I'd killed someone's dad, but apparently just being Western was enough.

Night drew in once again and we were relieved to see signs for Hanoi, just a few more miles to go. About 15 minutes out, we stopped briefly and a well-dressed Vietnamese man came bounding down the aisle before locking onto me and asking my name. 'Great, an accomodation tout'. After the irritating small talk, he sensed my disinterest and got down to business.

"Come to my hotel! Very nice, very clean. Don't get taxi from bus station, you can't trust! Come in my taxi and I take you to my hotel. Good price!"

The usual line, 'we've got a reservation at 'x'' didn't knock his confidence.

"Ok, you come with me, you see hotel!"

"No thanks, we have a RES...ER...VAY...SHUN", I emphasised.

"Ok, I get you taxi, cheap price!"

"No, it's ok", I said, peering at the organised goverment taxi rank, "we'll just get one from there".

"No, you come with me, I take you to your hotel!"

We disembarked the bus and argued amongst ourselves about the best move. We unwisely agreed to get in his taxi once we'd agreed a sensible fare. I'd learnt by this point that it was much easier to get by in groups; I didn't want to split off from the girls so I shut up and got in. Unsurprisingly, we ended up at his hotel.

"You come see hotel!"

"No, we asked you to take us to ours!"

"You come see hotel! Good price!"

At which point, luckily for us, the two Canadians who'd shared our taxi decided to go. Once they'd checked in, the guy was happy for us to leave and waved our taxi on. The relief was incredible, as tired and weary we landed at 'Hanoi Backpackers' reception, which was Western-run and had the first nice Vietnamese we'd met. Split across three buildings in a tiny backstreet alley, we had a cosily kitted-out place. The bottom floor, a kitchen-cum-lounge with a TV/DVD player. Our room on the first floor was a basic but comfortable and clean place to be. Starving hungry, we ventured out for food at 9pm and found nothing open. After a long long walk we found a cafe/bar and ordered our food. One at a time the food came out with ten-minute gaps until half of us had something. Then nothing. We asked the waiter, who just walked off, and then the bill arrived, asking for the full lot. We argued, then they said the kitchen was closed, so we left the money for what we had had and ran. Completely exhaused by the bullshit we rocked up at KFC and thanked God for America.

Back at the hostel, the two English girls booked a two-night Halong Bay trip while the Scottish girls wanted a day in Hanoi. Truth be told, I wanted a day in Hanoi, but I was pretty into one of the English girls. (Shameful isn't it!) The trip left at 8am the next morning, so I thought I'd take the night to sleep on it, meeting at 7am to say yes or no. For listening to my balls instead of soaking up the culture, Karma decided to put me right....

I set my alarm and fell asleep instantly. I woke up at 6.30 and took my time, having a long shower and casually sauntering down to reception. No sign of anyone, so I asked if there were anymore places on the trip.

"For tomorrow?", asked the girl.

"No, for today please!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, today's trip left at 8!"

"But it's 7.15?", I replied confused.

"Er...it's 8.15 mate."

My eyes darted to the wall clock. Shit! I'd forgotten to stick my phone forward an hour, and all the time I'd spent loving it in the shower, the girls were well on their way to Halong Bay. I went to wake the Scottish girls with my tail firmly between my legs, and decided to hang out with them. I don't normally believe in things happening for a reason but the day's events would pan out convincingly. The Scottish girls were actually much nicer than I'd first thought, and funny, and we got on really well. My lonely planet suggested a two-hour walking tour of Hanoi, and the girls were keen on the prisoner of war camp. Closer to us, we went there first. Obviously, it was a serious affair, not alot funny about a prison, but what remained had become a museum and was total comedy. To set the scene, it was originally built by the French colonialists in 1800 and something, and imprisoned Vietnamese, and later when the famous war broke out it housed American POWs, including John McCain. The exhibits could be summarised something like this:

Part One: The bastard French invaded and locked up the glorious Vietnamese. Every day the waif-like freedom fighters would be savaged by torturous instruments within an inch of their lives. If a prisoner so much as sneezed he would be snatched by the barborous Frogs and be introduced to the guillotine, surrounded by guards dancing with merryment.

Part Two: When the idiotic Americans decided to have a pop at us, our star gunners shot their planes out of the sky. The compassionate Vietnamese would wade out into lakes, trek for hours through forest and embark on life-threatening journeys to recover the blundering Yanks. Handed over to the prison, the Americans enjoyed an excellent standard of living thanks to us. Each had a guitar and Christmas dinner was laid on to make it feel like home. Our doctors treated their wounds and even gave them lollipops for being good boys. A 'free hugs for all' policy was immediately introduced and they all had a teddy bear's picnic of a time.

Hmm.

We wandered off round to Hoan Kiem lake in the centre of the Old Quarter to begin the walking tour and as we made our way round I thought I saw a familiar face. 'That looks like Louise! Is that Louise? That can't be Louise! That's Louise!' She spotted me and we both stood there astonished! Louise Dawson, who I knew from secondary school and hadn't seen for a good few years! To be in the same country at the same time would be coincidence, the same city pretty incredible, but to be walking along the same street at exactly the same time, was mind-blowing! After a brief chat, we agreed to meet later at the hostel for drinks, continuing our eye-opening tour around Hanoi. Motorbikes rushing past everywhere. Street markets, monuments and endless freneticism. The fish market was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Squid, shark and hundreds of things that I didn't recognise. Even live tortoises and crabs were on offer.

At the hostel, the Scottish girls, Kirsteen and Caitlin umm-ed and ahh-ed over Halong Bay. After agreeing to throw in free drinks at the bar, the staff convinced us on and Louise, Jen and Non signed up too! We went to bed excited for our Top Gear style adventure the next day.

Split across two minibuses the 40 or so of us backpackers chatted away and we'd lucked-out with a great crowd of people. We had paid a premium (about US$30), more than other similar trips, booking the hostel-run tour. But it guaranteed some crucial variables. Everyone on the trip was either staying at the hostel, or liked 18-30 style trips. All our food was included, and we were assured a nice junk (boat). The cherry on top was the tour guides. An American guy, Anderson and an American-Vietnamese girl, May. After three hours of laughs and banter on the bus we arrived at Halong City. We were quickly escorted to our fantastic boat and headed up to the top deck for briefing.

The rooms aboard were lovely, almost as nice as the houseboat in India, twins with private shower. The first day we sailed for hours deep into the huge limestone formations before stopping and having a swim. We then kayaked around to a vast cave network, where a Vietnamese tour guide showed us the striking natural wonders and the pitch-black caverns. The evening was of course, a marathon drinking session and loud iPod-delivered tunage on the boat's powerful sound system. Huge moths and flying beetles the size of mice would storm the dining room scaring the shit out of even the toughest of lads. Like something out of Jurassic Park, they'd land in a dark corner and somehow create this high-pitched whining sound. Disgusting. After getting hopelessly drunk, the atmosphere was even more fantastic - great music, dancing, skinny dipping, random hook-ups - everything a wild party should be!

The next morning we battled hangovers to make it to the island where we'd spend our next day and night. A tiny secluded beach awaited, dotted with sleeping huts. Unfortunately there were no walls, just a roof, 'mattresses' and mosquito nets, but it was fun to be back to basics. Having had such a great time on Phi Phi with a similar set up I was looking forward to the evening. To pass the day, the others chilled on the beach, while Jen and I were keen to get involved in the rock climbing. We took a basket boat to a nearby island led by an American guide. Sadly, the Vietnamese hadn't yet caught onto the impact that littering has. The water was pretty disgusting, especially compared to the crystal clear water at Koh Phi Phi in Thailand. We began to climb and even with a safety rope, climbing the rocks with our bare hands was shit-scary! Knackered, we headed back to camp, and took a few hours rest before dinner. A vast barbecue was laid on and we began another marathon drinking session. Keen to top our beercan count from the previous night we hit it hard, and the drinking games began. Ride the Bus, 21, Ring of Fire, and although we'd only known each other a day or two, it was like playing with old friends. Eventually we got round to playing the now classic, 'Vegetable Game'. Each person decided on a vegetable to be, and performed a gesture to resemble that particular flora. Curling lips around teeth for the duration of the game, the player would repeat their gesture and say the name of their vegetable twice and then pick another player's vegetable repeating that twice, passing it on to that player. As you can imagine at this stage it was all hilarious, and we played until the early hours of the morning, when conversation got deep. I believe we ended up sitting in circles and asking questions like "What's the most important thing in your life?" or "What's your favourite music and why?" Terrible behaviour.

We finally went to bed, and despite it being pitch black and so quiet voices reverberated around the beach, Beau, an excitable 28-year-old ginger Canadian, who had hilariously failed at the vegetable game, was intent on telling everyone ghost stories. Oblivious to everyone else hoping for a precious few hours sleep before sunrise, he began: "Once upon a time there was a ghost...", he spat out between drunken laughter, before Anderson in his booming voice and with precision comedy timing delivered, "Once upon a time there was a ghost in Halong Bay. It was so fuckin' scary everyone fell asleep. The end", laughter ringing out from all corners of the beach.

The morning was a struggle to say the least as our transfer boat sailed out to rendezvous with our junk. It was a stunning day, so hot that you couldn't walk bare-foot on the deck, and once we'd made it back onto the other boat we relaxed with good music as we sailed back to Halong City.

Back in Hanoi, I said goodbye to the girls as Kirsteen and Caitlin were heading down south, and the others were departing for Laos. I plonked myself down in front of a computer to check the state of my internet banking. Hopefully, I'd have enough cash to send me to Sapa way up north for a few days. Fortunately, I had enough to survive in Hanoi until my flight to Australia. Unfortunately nowhere near enough to bosh off to the beautiful mountains by the Chinese border.

So, what to do? I packed in three outings to the staggeringly cheap multiplex cinema, and spent the rest of my time watching the world go by. Although, I hadn't planned on being on my own for this long, it was surprisingly enjoyable as I soaked up daily life from the window of a cafe, or during a stroll around the Old Quarter. I remember one particular time vividly, as I watched a grandfather carry his baby grandson on his hip. They walked from a cafe on the opposite side of the road to the edge of its canopy as rain pattered down outside. The grandfather outstretched his hand to feel the rain and turned to smile at his grandson, who then outstretched his tiny hand and erupted into laughter. The grandfather carried him back inside after a few moments laughing as they went. Later, in the evening I was having dinner on a balcony over a backstreet and was witnessing an amateur game of football between a group of young children. The ball was soft and balloon-like making it hard to accurately kick. The ball floated off to one of the restaurant staff downstairs, who lined himself up to kick it back to the kids. As he struck the ball it came flying off his foot up into the balcony, narrowly missing those eating their food. The kids were in fits, the staff member stifling laughs as he apologised, and the diners appeared to see the funny side. Seeing everyday behaviour firsthand without a journalist to spin it, a TV reporter to angle it, or a photographer to portray it, was a confirmation that no matter where people come from we can identify with emotions and situations that we all too often associate with our own cultures. Be it embarrassed by a poor kick of a football and an unlucky landing or captured by the wonder of a small child.

It would have been nice to leave Vietnam on this high-note; a bad experience somewhat reparated, but the relatively high bastard to friendly ratio would spoil my exit. In my short experience 60% of the Vietnamese were normal, friendly and helpful people. Sadly 40% or so were money-grabbing, violent and cheating arseholes, one of whom was my taxi driver to the airport:

I hailed him down and asked if I could get to the airport with 200,000Dong ($15). He agreed and as I entered the taxi I reconfirmed.

"So that's 200,000 to Hanoi airport, yes?"

"Yes, 200,000"

He happily chatted away in broken English, all smiles about David Beckham and Manchester United, and anything else English he could think of. After half-an-hour, we arrived at the terminal and I collected my bag. I handed over the money and turned to walk off...

"Sorry, I say 300,000"

Almost unsurprised, "Ah come on mate, we agreed TWO...HUN...DRED...THOU...SAND. Don't mess me about!"

The bastard smiled as he protested, "No, no, I say 300,000", walking round to block my entry into the airport. A heated argument ensued as he tried everything to prise another 100,000 from my pocket. He threatened to call the police, told me I should give him the money because 'I could afford it', and pushed my back as I tried to walk past him. After 10 minutes of outright refusing to pay, and calling his bluff over the police, he had no ammo left short of using violence, and considering we were in a very public place, would not have worked out for him. Angrily, he stormed off, barging me as he stamped back to his car. What left me seething the most was the friendly manner that immediately turned sour when I wouldn't give him money that wasn't even his. All tourist advice for dealing with violent Vietnamese is not to raise your voice, and back away slowly, which is easier said than done when some little prick is in your face trying to steal from you, with a soon departing flight to get to!

However, anything bad that occurs whilst travelling is an 'experience', so I think I can say I'm richer for it...or something!