Chasing Amy-Lou

Hué, Vietnam:

After my challenging scooter ride yesterday, my arse was feeling a little numb so my thoughts turned to exercise, and what better way to exercise in South East Asia than walking the length and breadth of a city in the middle of the day? The sweat would pour and the legs would get a good old stretch. Magic.

This morning then, I took a walk across the river and into the old town. Not one Westerner or European looking oddball did I see on my little wander, and it was heaven. Taking myself out of the tourist hub for an hour or two gave me chance to experience Hue from a local’s point of view.

I passed scooter repair shops and white goods stores; old tv shops and second hand stores. I had a mosey through the Dong Ba market and lost myself in the colours and shapes of the exotic fruits and vegetables, all the while my senses being tantalised by the smells of fresh spices, herbs and slowly cooking meat.

My intention with this mid-morning ramble (aside from burning a few calories) was to time my day perfectly in order to get the best and least frustrating experience I could; I would walk the streets of the old city in a westerly direction so that I reached the Imperial City by noon. This way I could avoid all the tour groups (no one – especially Chinese and Vietnamese tourists – wants to be trudging round an outdoor heritage site when the sun is at its highest) and basque in the magnificence and superiority of its architecture and design without feeling crowded and pressured, and without the inevitable rabble that comes with organised guided walks.

Once I’d paid the 150,000 VND entrance fee and was inside the Citadel I felt a peaceful sort of calm wash over me. It was silent (pray for the low voices of the very few tourists that were in there), it was still, and it was very, very impressive; a triumph of imperialist aestheticism, typical for the period it was erected, and ever so beautiful.

I spent just over an hour and a half making my way through the different temples and old residences, taking in the Forbidden Purple City in all its splendour; passing through serene-like gardens and treating myself to a sight of sheer ornate grandeur in the Royal Theatre. Not one family with screaming kids did I fall pray to; not one eagerly, over-enthusiastic tour guide with 50 Asian tourists in tow did I get stuck behind; and not one group of noisy European backpackers did I encounter. It was lush, and I got to internalise the atmosphere at my own pace. And just as I began my exit, at around 1:30pm – thunder hitting the sky in the distance – the crowds started to arrive, and I felt a sense of boasting accomplishment at my impeccable timing.

With the rain coming down, I hopped into a little restaurant called Bistro 34, just south of the Imperial City gates. I ordered my food (stir-fried bell peppers with a peanut sauce) and was astounded when I looked on the drinks menu and found they served Desperados, a tequila flavoured beer!

Now, I have had a very personal and close relationship with Desperados in the past – attributing their tasty content and ease of ingestion to many a fun, drunken, silly afternoon back in the UK. And it had been almost a year since the sweet nectar had last graced my lips (I had not been able to find any while in Australia). Therefore, considering I couldn’t find a decent white wine in Vietnam, I was definitely not going to pass up on the opportunity of sinking a couple of coldies of my favourite lager variety.

And what a treat it was! Two bottles later and I was sufficiently satisfied that my alcohol consumption would not dehydrate me enough to hinder my planned afternoon walk. And so as the rain died off, I left the Bistro, content, and full of intention to walk the 5km down the river to the Thien Mu Pagoda.

Two kilometres into my trek, a sufficient length of the river already ambled, I approached a busy bridge that seemed to signify the edge of the main part of the city, with what appeared to be only suburbs on the other side. Checking the sky and my watch, and consulting the maps.me app, I came to an executive decision – the Pagoda was getting patched. It would’ve taken me the best part of another hour to reach my destination, and then I had the tiring walk back, and it was already 4:30. I didn’t fancy an early evening riverside hike just as the sun was setting, not after my unfortunate river encounter in Ho Chi Minh City anyway. So, for this visit to Vietnam at least, the Pagoda idea got erased and I made my way home.

That evening I found a secluded little cafe called Garden River. Situated on the banks of the Perfume River (as the name would suggest), I basked in the calm of the night, sipping on a red wine, watching the ripples in the water from the nearby fishermen. And as the thunder and lightening crept over the skies, I tried to capture the phenomenon on my phone. But it was in vain, as I realised I probably needed something more hi-tech than a five megapixel iPhone camera.