From Cu Chi tunnels to Hoi An

Published Mar 18, 2011

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About 40km north west of Saigon, towards the Cambodian border, is a memorial to the Vietnam war, the amazing network of tunnels near the small town of Cu Chi. This elaborate warren was used by the North Vietnamese with great effect during the conflict with the Americans.

There are more than 200km of tunnels, which the local populace dug by hand. The layout is ingenious. The tunnels lie at different levels. Narrow claustrophobic passageways, heavy with a pervasive atmosphere of menace, open into larger chambers which housed clinics, living quarters, air raid shelters, kitchens, ammunition dumps and even cinemas.

The tunnels were entered through trap doors camouflaged with soil, leaves and branches, which allowed the Vietcong to emerge from the earth without warning, open fire on an American patrol before, as suddenly, vanishing into the depths. The tunnels were deliberately cramped to hinder the physically bigger Americans who had to deploy troops of a more slender physique to perform the thankless task of penetrating the subterranean maze to flush the Vietcong out with gas.

Holding a torch lent by a guide dressed in the dark green fatigues of the Vietcong, I squeezed my way into the tunnel system and imagined the feelings of the American troops sent down in pursuit of the enemy.

Once in the tunnel, there is no way of turning around. You either go forward, or reverse in an undignified manner, unable to see if there is anyone coming at you from behind. Small bats cling to the dank walls and the roof of the tunnel seems to get lower and press down on you, while a feeling of panic stirs in your gut. I imagined becoming stuck in these gloomy depths, cut off from the warmth of the sun and the cheerful chorus of forest birds and insects. I made a left turn at a fork in the passages. Wrong choice, I was in a cul de sac. Heart thumping, I reversed into the main passageway and then with a surge of relief, saw a glorious patch of grey light ahead.

With a feeling of triumph I emerged from the earth to find I had crawled no more than 10m. During the war, the chances of dying or being horribly maimed in the bowels of the earth were very real. The Vietcong set diabolically cunning booby traps such as explosive devices, primitive gin traps and pits full of pointed bamboo or metal staves waiting for unfortunate victims to tumble onto their sharpened spikes.

Sixty minutes after departing from Saigon, the Vietnamese Airways Airbus A330 wallowed down through thick cloud, swept over the ubiquitous rice fields and groves of coconut palms, and braked hard as it touched down at the central Vietnamese city of Da Nang. This large port on the South China sea was the site of a large US military base during the war. It is impossible to avoid memories of the relatively recent violent past when one travels through this wonderfully peaceful, patient and industrious land.

Not far from Da Nang, along a coastal road disfigured by brash new hotels, casinos and golf courses, catering to the seemingly insatiable appetite of many Asians for gambling and golf, is the lovely old city of Hoi An, a World Heritage site.

In total contrast to the monstrous coastal development, Hoi An is a town of great charm and character. For visitors, there are some attractive hotels and guest houses, quite unlike the ugly piles of concrete between Da Nang and Hoi An.

We stayed at the Victoria Hoi An Beach Resort, a delightful complex of cottages and apartments set in a garden of tropical trees, between the Thu Bon River and the South China Sea.

Hoi An is a timeless place, a town with an exceptionally rich cultural heritage. The town attracted traders from China and Japan, as well as Europe. This mingling of cultures is represented in the colourful blend of architectural styles, which combine to form a most appealing whole – exotic, warm and utterly seductive. The approach to Hoi An from the Victoria Resort sets the atmosphere for the town itself.

We traversed a flat landscape, following a river lined with graceful coconut palms. Amid an exuberance of tropical vegetation, there are handsome villas, numerous open-air restaurants and small shops. Once in Hoi An, strolling in the muggy heat down Tran Phu, the main street, we were entranced by the rich architecture of the town.

Ornate pagodas and community halls stand comfortably alongside narrow Vietnamese tube houses; French colonial villas with tiled roofs and cream walls mouldering in the damp heat lead travellers to a covered Japanese bridge of russet stucco and wood spanning a canal leading to the Thu Bon River, where wooden boats bob at their moorings and there are delightful views of red tiled buildings framed by coconut palms and riotous bougainvillea on the opposite bank.

A delicately seasoned lunch accompanied by local La Rue beer in a tranquil garden preceded a relaxing afternoon on the beach at the Victoria Resort. This is a hedonist’s paradise with all the seductive attributes of the tropics – palm trees and the warm sea breaking lazily on the gently shelving beach.

At night, Hoi An is transformed into a wonderland of light. Lanterns are strung over streets where open-fronted shops entice visitors with bolts of richly coloured silks, paper lanterns and other goods. This is a time to relax over a drink at a pavement café while early diners patronise the many restaurants, some with open-air galleries overlooking the busy streets. After a dinner of fish wrapped in banana leaves we strolled along the banks of the Thu Bon through the tranquil night, with the calm surface of the river reflecting the red light from myriad paper lanterns glowing on the opposite bank.

Our journey continued from Hoi An, along the coastline, towards Da Nang. We passed a string of beaches known as China Beach during the Vietnam war and used by the Americans as rest and recreation centres for their troops. The shoreline is attractive. Fishing boats and round coracles are drawn up on the sand and fishermen draw their nets in from the choppy South China Sea.

The main road, Highway 1, sweeps past Da Nang and rises steeply as it enters the mountains behind the city. Shortly after leaving the humid, tropical coastline, the highway twisted through groves of eucalyptus and conifers to the misty crest of the Hai Van pass.

Here on the cool heights there are gun emplacements and a forbidding, dark fortress built by the French. The road then sweeps down to the narrow coastal plain, verdant with rice paddies. There are many attractive beaches here where the thickly settled plain is squeezed between the rugged mountains to the west and the Gulf of Tonkin to the east. The highway passes through numerous villages before arriving at the imperial city of Hue, where we booked in to our handsome French colonial hotel, the Saigon-Morin, on the banks of the Perfume River. - Weekend Argus

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