A Ride on the Vietnamese Conveyor Belt

I'm definitely a city person at heart. I love living in London and I can't imagine settling anywhere else. But if I were Vietnamese, I think I would have to live by the river.

There was, of course, much to enjoy about Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). When I was buying bananas from smiley women in conicle hats, or watching Vietnamese students try to sell Graham Greene's The Quiet American to every passing tourist, or drinking coffee in French-style cafes while the world rushed past, I felt that the cities were fascinating and welcoming places. But then I would spend a couple of hours negotiating the frenetic streets, dodging motorbikes and sweating in the 80% humidity and I longed for a bit of peace and quiet.

After two days in Hanoi, it was quite a relief to escape to scenic Halong Bay, a tourists' favourite due to glowing reports in the Lonely Planet and the prevalence of cheap boat trips. Unlike Russia, Mongolia and China, the South-East Asian countries are beginning to move into high season, and so Halong Bay was heaving with little tourist boats on the sight-seeing conveyor belt. It was soon obvious how carefully scheduled these tours have to be. As we pulled into a small beach for our allotted 30 minutes of swimming, another boat was just pulling away - and our hour of kayaking and 45 minute climb through the caves of stalactites (holding on tight) and stalgmites (pushing up with all their might) were equally well choreographed. On the morning of the second day, as we sat down for breakfast at 8am sharp, I looked out across the water and saw exactly the same picture unfolding on boat, after boat, after boat, after boat...

The Bay was beautiful, but by far my most memorable experience in Vietnam was visiting the Cu Chi tunnels near HCMC. The tunnel network stretched from Saigon to the Cambodian border and was instrumental in the Vietcong's control of the area. Before we went into the 'jungle' we watched a short film about the "War Against the American Imperialists and their Lackeys" which was so fabulously propagandistic I had to keep reminding myself it was also largely true. At Cu Chi you can see examples of booby traps and spider holes, take a turn firing a gun (only 2000 Dong per bullet!) and there was even an old tank you could climb into and pretend to drive, if you wanted to look like a wannabe UK defence minister.

Needless to say, I declined the last two and went straight to the main event, a chance to crawl through a widened section of the tunnel for 35m or 100m depending on the extent of your claustrophobia. I was extremely glad to emerge after 35m and find it incredible to think that not only soldiers but whole villages used these tunnels and lived underground for years. Our guide in the tunnels, Minh, fought with the South Vietnamese and so had many stories to tell. He was almost unremittingly cheerful - "it's over now!" - except when explaining that the War Remnants Museum in HCMC paints an incomplete picture. "There are no winners in war," he told us, going unexpectedly off-message, "and afterwards only one side of the story is ever told."

As part of the day trip to the tunnels, we also stopped off at a Caodai temple during morning prayers, for what turned out to be the most appallingly intrusive tourist hotspot yet. As monks dressed in spotless white chanted and prayed ritualistically in the temple, we were actively encouraged to crowd round the edges of the room to take photographs. As our bus joined the constant stream of tourist traffic roaring down the narrow streets away from the temple, passing within feet of small wooden houses where children swung in hammocks, I was shocked to realise I'd inadvertently become part of the damaging side of the tourist trade. And what's worse, I'm not sure how to avoid doing so again.

And that brings me to the Mekong Delta, where I finally found the peaceful side of Vietnam, sailing through calm floating villages and relaxed markets selling fresh fish, sweet potatoes and coconuts. From here I took a boat across the border into Cambodia and then a minibus to Phnom Penh, which was not quite so peaceful a journey. But that's another story.