DON DAENG. Day 9-10 – Arriving from Cambodia, I found a torpor cradling southern Laos. The arid rice-paddies awaited rain; buffaloes dozed under trees. Here, the Mekong braids its way through the countryside in sinewy channels, creating midstream islands. I’d decided to overnight on Don Daeng Island, near Champasak, at a sustainable tourism community lodge, which I shared with only two other travellers. The wooden lodge is set within a flower-filled garden. Kham, the administrator, explained that my stay contributed to a village bank fund for the 3,000 islanders: It’s used for emergency hospital treatment and buying seed and buffaloes.”
It was at Don Daeng that I inadvertently became a Premier League footballer… Between simple meals of sticky rice and garden produce, I strolled insouciantly around this angelic island of rice-paddies and forest, passing through small villages where locals cheerily yelled “Sabaideel” (Hello!) from hammocks strung beneath their stilted wooden homes. Sabaidee was the only Laotian word I knew. So, when I stopped at a farmstead shop to devour a 50p bottle of Beer Lao (it’s cheaper than water), I struggled to explain my nationality to the shopkeeper. Neither “British” nor “English” sufficed; my last attempt was: “Manchester United? ”. “Man U!?” he responded excitedly, eyebrows raised. Pointing at me, he demonstrated a kick. “Well, I don’t actually play for them, I…” Too late. He was shouting to his neighbours, who began to appear and join in the pointing, all jabbering “Man U! Man U!”. Before long the whole village would know of the fraudulent superstar in its midst.
HUE. Day 11 – I arrived early in Hue, central Vietnam. Although the country is essentially an authoritarian communist state, Hue’s comrades are far too busy making money from the tourists that flock to the former imperial capital to worry about Ho Chi Minh’s manifesto. After a French-inspired breakfast of coffee and baguette, I crossed the Perfume River to explore Hue’s moated royal citadel, glad of a cool overcast day. The last royal Nguyen dynasty made Hue its capital from 1802 to 1945; the citadel was completed around 1833. Within its substantial walls lies an incredible window into Vietnam’s extravagant past: temples with red-lacquered wooden pillars, koi carp pools, topiary hedges, palaces. It’s just a fraction of what remains after the American wartime bombing.
With an afternoon spare before my night-train south, I hired a motorcycle and drove through the lush pine forests and rice-paddies of Hue’s southern hinterland. The area is a vast royal necropolis, the most impressive tomb being that of Emperor Khai Dinh. He only reigned from 1916 to 1925 and was unpopular because of his collaboration with colonial France, yet his tomb’s largesse is spellbinding. Spread over three terraces, his sarcophagus of inlaid ceramics bears his image – full-size, in bronze – protected by a gathering of terracotta soldiers and Mandarin courtesans. It’s almost unthinkable, given Vietnam’s turbulent recent history, that the tomb was completed only 90 short years ago.
NHA TRANG. Day 12 – My train arrived in early, via lovely mountainous coastline, at Nha Trang – Vietnam’s glitziest beach resort. Its 6km-long caramel-sand beach is backed by skyscraper hotels inhabited by so many Russian holidaymakers I wondered if annexation might be on the Kremlin’s agenda? No matter, this was my day to chillax after much travelling. I swam in the South China Sea, ate delicious bank xeo (seafood pancakes) and drank cocktails while watching the sun extinguish. Batteries recharged, the next morning I continued south for Saigon.
