Upon arrival in Ho Chi Minh City we were plunged straight into the madness of mopeds and motorbikes. Five million of them to be precise. In the taxi to Hideout Hostel I watched in awe as swarms of bikes weaved haphazardly in and out of each other, seemingly absent of any rules or conduct.
Once at the hostel and inside we were greeted with news that we had two free drinks waiting, swiftly followed by 'check-in shots' poured straight from the bottle. It was a party hostel alright, with a bar conveniently adjacent and throngs of travellers playing Jenga and dancing on the pavement in front.
With very little time to change, pause, or think, we were soon full steam ahead into a bar crawl organised by Hideout. The excitement of reuniting with two friends after 14 months apart, mixed with the incredibly cheap booze prices made for a dangerous cocktail. With Saigon beer (essentially Chang) and shorts for just 60,000 Dong (£2) each, we were overwhelmed by the third or fourth bar - and we're pretty good at shifting liquor.
To summarise the first night - one of the group took a shine to directing the chaotic traffic before falling asleep in the bar, two of us were dispossessed of our phones and the fourth was punched over a 20p moped ride. Losing my phone was a bit of a pain, but at least we were all in one piece. We even managed to shuffle our way over for an obligatory MacDonald's, my drunk brain clearly not ready to sample the local cuisine.
Surprisingly fresh after the heavy night, we boarded a bus to the Cu Chi Tunnels the next morning - can of 333 (beer) in hand. The freshness wouldn't last too long though, with Ho Chi Minh City ranking 12th in the list of world's most polluted cities. At peak time in the morning, pollution from the 5 million bikes belched into the atmosphere, forming a hazy smog with the high humidity and 34 degree heat.
Once at the hostel and inside we were greeted with news that we had two free drinks waiting, swiftly followed by 'check-in shots' poured straight from the bottle. It was a party hostel alright, with a bar conveniently adjacent and throngs of travellers playing Jenga and dancing on the pavement in front.
With very little time to change, pause, or think, we were soon full steam ahead into a bar crawl organised by Hideout. The excitement of reuniting with two friends after 14 months apart, mixed with the incredibly cheap booze prices made for a dangerous cocktail. With Saigon beer (essentially Chang) and shorts for just 60,000 Dong (£2) each, we were overwhelmed by the third or fourth bar - and we're pretty good at shifting liquor.
To summarise the first night - one of the group took a shine to directing the chaotic traffic before falling asleep in the bar, two of us were dispossessed of our phones and the fourth was punched over a 20p moped ride. Losing my phone was a bit of a pain, but at least we were all in one piece. We even managed to shuffle our way over for an obligatory MacDonald's, my drunk brain clearly not ready to sample the local cuisine.
Surprisingly fresh after the heavy night, we boarded a bus to the Cu Chi Tunnels the next morning - can of 333 (beer) in hand. The freshness wouldn't last too long though, with Ho Chi Minh City ranking 12th in the list of world's most polluted cities. At peak time in the morning, pollution from the 5 million bikes belched into the atmosphere, forming a hazy smog with the high humidity and 34 degree heat.
Heading out of the city centre did provide some relief though and we were soon at a pit stop - a small village which was home to some incredible artwork and craft items. Visiting the artists unearthed a slightly sinister secret however, as most of them were living with disabilities and conditions linked to the use of Agent Orange during the Vietnam War.
The chemical was deployed by US forces to destroy crops and forest cover; but has since had abhorrent effects on public health, including deformities, defects, cancers and tumours in one million people alive today.
The shocking history lesson continued upon arrival at the tunnels, which were utilised by the Viet Cong (VC); a political organisation supported by communist North Vietnam, the Soviet Union and China. This 200km underground network of tunnels were used so effectively to withstand the advances of the US (and Australian) forces who supported South Vietnam during the war.
Signs of the heavy bombing in the late 1960s to expose these tunnels were still clearly visible in the form of huge craters, although now abundant with foliage. Despite the bombs our tour guide told us how the US, who he frequently referred to as 'the American enemy', were unable to repel the VC; thanks to their grit, determination and ingenuity.
The chemical was deployed by US forces to destroy crops and forest cover; but has since had abhorrent effects on public health, including deformities, defects, cancers and tumours in one million people alive today.
The shocking history lesson continued upon arrival at the tunnels, which were utilised by the Viet Cong (VC); a political organisation supported by communist North Vietnam, the Soviet Union and China. This 200km underground network of tunnels were used so effectively to withstand the advances of the US (and Australian) forces who supported South Vietnam during the war.
Signs of the heavy bombing in the late 1960s to expose these tunnels were still clearly visible in the form of huge craters, although now abundant with foliage. Despite the bombs our tour guide told us how the US, who he frequently referred to as 'the American enemy', were unable to repel the VC; thanks to their grit, determination and ingenuity.
The guide showed us a variety of methods and contraptions conjured by the VC to halt the US, conceal their position and avoid capture. Most of these were equal parts cruel and magnificent. Explosive charges hidden in tunnel entrances, pitfalls full of punji sticks, devices to trigger a swinging mace into the face of a victim. Many were designed to maim, not kill. The killing would be done by marauding VC soldiers, springing from the tunnels a firing upon the many gathered to free the injured from these traps.
After a careful demonstration of each, we unanimously decided the most gruesome was the armpit trap. Thereby a victim would be impaled by the armpit and forced to hang in agony until his comrades arrived to lift him out.
A few more lessons on the VC way of life, a climb around a burnt out tank and a quick snack on some tapioca; then we were given the option to head into a tunnel. These tunnels were hot, squalid and unbearably confined, even considering any adaptations that may have been made for tourists. Walking was impossible. Crawling through was also out of the question with a 333 in hand.
Instead, we were forced to waddle in a contorted manner. Each 20m offered a ladder and the chance to tap out, but I was determined to complete the whole 100m distance; in spite of the darkness and dust collecting in my beer. I struggle to imagine the willpower of a man who could spend a hour down there, let alone days at a time.
After a careful demonstration of each, we unanimously decided the most gruesome was the armpit trap. Thereby a victim would be impaled by the armpit and forced to hang in agony until his comrades arrived to lift him out.
A few more lessons on the VC way of life, a climb around a burnt out tank and a quick snack on some tapioca; then we were given the option to head into a tunnel. These tunnels were hot, squalid and unbearably confined, even considering any adaptations that may have been made for tourists. Walking was impossible. Crawling through was also out of the question with a 333 in hand.
Instead, we were forced to waddle in a contorted manner. Each 20m offered a ladder and the chance to tap out, but I was determined to complete the whole 100m distance; in spite of the darkness and dust collecting in my beer. I struggle to imagine the willpower of a man who could spend a hour down there, let alone days at a time.
One of the most impressive feats was the means of ventilation to these tunnels. The VC managed to conceal all traces of vents using man-made termite mounds. When the US soldiers employed dogs to sniff them out, the VC used garlic and spice to throw off their scent. They were always one step ahead.
The last leg of the tunnel tour was the chance to fire a weapon of choice: M16 rifle, M60 or AK47. Years of playing video games made the choice of AK47 an obvious one. Ten bullets for £17.00. 50,000 Dong per bullet - only one hit the target. But hey, it's something to tick off my bucket list, plus I managed to salvage one of the shells.
After the tunnels we headed back for another hedonistic night in the city, via an eventful bus journey featuring a giant cockroach and pandemonium.
We started with a laboured search for a rooftop hostel - which we found, fairly deserted, after climbing 20 flights of stairs. So instead we hit the same bar crawl that defeated us the night before. With nothing left to lose we had a great one full of blurred memories and conversation with Canadians and Irish. We crashed out at 5am - yet somehow we were up at 7am and ready for the bus.
While I thoroughly enjoyed the two days in Ho Chi Minh City, I was secretly delighted to be leaving the hustle, bustle and bikes behind in favour of somewhere more tranquil. Or at least I hoped. Next stop, Mui Ne.
The last leg of the tunnel tour was the chance to fire a weapon of choice: M16 rifle, M60 or AK47. Years of playing video games made the choice of AK47 an obvious one. Ten bullets for £17.00. 50,000 Dong per bullet - only one hit the target. But hey, it's something to tick off my bucket list, plus I managed to salvage one of the shells.
After the tunnels we headed back for another hedonistic night in the city, via an eventful bus journey featuring a giant cockroach and pandemonium.
We started with a laboured search for a rooftop hostel - which we found, fairly deserted, after climbing 20 flights of stairs. So instead we hit the same bar crawl that defeated us the night before. With nothing left to lose we had a great one full of blurred memories and conversation with Canadians and Irish. We crashed out at 5am - yet somehow we were up at 7am and ready for the bus.
While I thoroughly enjoyed the two days in Ho Chi Minh City, I was secretly delighted to be leaving the hustle, bustle and bikes behind in favour of somewhere more tranquil. Or at least I hoped. Next stop, Mui Ne.