I immediately felt more at home at Hue than I had previously on this trip. While tourism is a welcome addition to the economy, I never got the feeling it was the only thing keeping people out of abject poverty, like I did in Hanoi.
I stayed at Hue Happy Homestay, and my host, Viet, seemed to genuinely care about his guest’s comfort and well-being.
Over fruit and coffee, I decided to book a tour of the DMZ, which in hindsight turned out to be an excellent plan after the visit to the ancient palace turned out to be a major let-down. I am not sure where the 200K Dong ticket price is being spent but it certainly is not on restoration efforts.
Apparently, it was looted by the French, and to my mind, very little of it seemed to provide any historical context or even general interest to the average visitor.
The next morning after a hasty noodle soup breakfast, I was picked up for the tour. Our first stop was at a citadel on the outskirts of town, which featured a memorial to soldiers that fell during the war.
Also within the grounds were the remains of cells, where some South Vietnamese were imprisoned after the fall of Saigon. To three of my fellow guests on the tour, this was very personal, as the father was imprisoned in similar conditions as a young child before immigrating to the USA. And the emotion between him, his wife and his young son was very palatable. It’s worth noting that no one in the tour ever complained about them taking their time after this revelation, including our guide, who like me would not have been alive at the end of the war.
The remains of the Khe Sanh air base was next, and a small museum featured artifacts and photos, with a clear pro-communist slant. here another visitor, Vietnamese perhaps mistaking me for an American, almost forced me to be in a photo with his arm around me.
Near the museum was aircraft, tanks and APCs left behind by US troops.
Further afield was a series of bunkers and tunnels, that would have provided scant protection and comfort to US servicemen and their allies.
The actual airstrip had long ago been dug up and reused for local roads, which is both sad, but the pragmatism is undeniable.
I had planned, here, to sing, roughly but with emotion, the first lines from Cold Chisel’s Khe Sanh, which is something of an unoffical Ausralian anthem, but when faced with the opportunity it seemed a pointless, redundant thing, so I had to resort to a selfie.
We had a nice lunch in one of those roadside restaurants that always seem to be empty except for tour groups, before continuing on.
The penultimate stop was the border crossing of the DMZ, that divided North and South. Now entirely defunct, but highly poignant. How many families had been seperated by this bridge? It was a strange experience, and especially moving to see the Vietmanese-American family.
The final stop was the Vinh Moc Tunnels. An entire village was relocated underground for protection against US bombing.
I managed to keep my claustrophobia under control as I was in the tunnels, which were obviously cramped and uncomfortable and contained kitchens, medical suites and bathrooms. I was grateful to be able to leave, and gladder to know that I have never been forced to live in such conditions.
On the long drive back to Hue, I couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to let the jungle take over and hide these scars of a terrible war. I am not normally in favour of pretending history, both good and bad, didn’t happen. But for the good of the Vietnamese people I could not help but think it was a wound that is best left alone.
Adrian's Got The Moose 