I’m surprised not many people have even heard of it, but Detain Waterfall has to be the most beautiful waterfall I’ve ever seen. Situated in Guangxi Province, right at the border with Vietnam, it is 200m wide and has a drop of over 70 metres. Though winter is a time when the water volume is at its lowest, the beautiful setting was enough to impress me.

bus broke down

I woke up early on the morning of the 16th of February and headed for Langdong Bus Station. I asked for Detian Waterfall, but was informed that the bus on that day only went to Daxin. It seemed like a short distance on the map, but there was no highway. The bus started at 7.30am, broke down at 10.30am, the “rescue” picked us up at 11.00am and we arrived at Daxin about 1.00pm. We were on our own. I quickly got acquainted with Mr Zhou from Beijing and a Finnish couple. We decided to pool our resources.

view from the broken bus

From there, a local taxi took us to a street in Daxin town where we boarded a bus headed for Detian. Normally, the bus there only went to Shuolong and we’d have to get a bus to Detian from there. On that day, there were enough of us, so the driver decided to go all the way to detian.

The entrance fee at Detian was a whopping Y70, but it’s probably worth it. There were many stalls and restaurants and even a hotel around the area. The hottest items were of course Vietnamese products including Vietnamese hats, perfumes and cigarettes. Inside the park, it was equally crowded. We had our lunch at a Zhuang Restaurant. I decided to try an exotic dish - ant egg omelette. The ant eggs were hardly visible and it tasted like ordinary egg omelette. According to the waiter, it was high protein, low cholesterol stuff. Another dish was the niang dou fu which is nothing like our Yong Tau Foo because there is absolutely nothing there to “niang”. Just plain tofu, a little smoky, but that’s the way I like it.

picture taken by Mr Zhou from Beijing

If not for the touts and the crowds, I can spend a whole day at Detian. The water volume was not impressive, but the mountains in the background, the emerald green pools of water, all added to the charm of the place. Mr Zhou and I went on a bamboo raft and had a ride around the pool which seperated Vietnam from China. As we neared the falls, a relatively warm water spray refreshed our weary souls. On the Vietnamese side, there were also rafts. Somehow, they were not moving. Perhaps nobody wanted to pay Y20 per person for them.

After the bamboo rafting, we checked out the stalls inside the park. There was even more vaiety here. There were toys made from ammunition shells and empty cartridges. Definitely not the sort of thing you would like to carry with you on a plane. It got more interesting as we crossed the border itself and came to the Vietnamese trading post. Unlike the Chinese stalls which were set up within the park, the Vietnamese stalls were set up on a plateau area surrounded by an amphitheatre of peaks. The scenery here probably rivals that of Guilin. The goods sold were not very different from those peddled on the Chinese side and they preferred Chinese currency too.

Vietnamese traders who are not bothered with borders

Motorbikes with Vietnamese registration numbers were parked at a corner of this trading post. From here, there was a mud track that led towards the mountains. We walked a bit on the track. The few people we met all spoke Mandarin, but they were Vietnamese and we were technically, albeit unofficially on Vietnamese soil.

Locals said we could wander about 1km inside Vietnam without getting into trouble with the authorities. In fact, we had an invitation from a Vietnamese girl whom we promptly rejected in spite of all the assurances from her. I figured it would be nice if I would enter and explore this area with an official entry stamp in Hanoi.

I was getting dark and quite reluctantly, Mr Zhou and I left the park only to find that there was no more public transport going back to Daxin. A minibus parked near the entrance demanded for Y180 to go to Daxin. We found a young lady also stranded there. She was from the northeast, studying fashion in Guangzhou. Mr Zhou and I tried very hard to persude her to share the minibus with us. I didn’t catch her name, but Mr Zhou addressed her as “gu niang”. I followed suit, sounding like an ancient swordsman.

Just as we were about to leave, we saw a family also stranded there. That’s 5 more people and we had a hard time persuading the driver to break the law and take all of us. We paid him more, of course. But the mother in the family protested. I wished someone could stuff a sock into her mouth or just leave her to spend the night at the waterfall. The last bus to Nanning was going to leave in an hour’s time and she was arguing with the driver over a few yuan.

We finally got her to shut up and proceeded to Daxin. The driver drove fast. We arrived at Daxin bus station just in time to catch the last bus to Nanning, about to leave at 7.30pm. We arrived at Nanning at about 9.30pm - surprisingly fast considering the fact we took the whole day to get to Daxin and in daylight to boot.

At the bus station, Mr Zhou and I had economy rice Nanning style. A metal plate and for Y10, you get 2 vegetables and one meat dumped in. Free flow of rice or porridge. Not very palatable, but that was all that was available. Mr Zhou then decided to check into the same hotel where I was staying. His room went for Y120 per night, but it was still a good deal.

Back in my room, I packed my things and got ready for Friendship Pass the next morning.

I checked out of Yingbing at about 7.00am and took 213 to Langdong Bus Station. It was about 9 deg C. Langdong was crowded that morning, but there was hardly any queue at the ticket counters. I bought the Naning-Hanoi ticket and proceeded to wait at the “business class” departure hall. Unlike the “economy class” hall, this hall was cleaner, more brightly lit and even heated.

The bus to Friendship Pass was in excellent condition. I boarded in comfort and had a smooth, uneventful ride to Friendship Pass. I came this way from Pingxiang a week ago, but this time, there was daylight. I could see that the highway was indeed very well-constructed.

A bit of a mess occurred when we disembarked at Friendship Pass. No clear instructions were given. Some of us were going to Hanoi. Some were on a daytrip to Friendship Pass from Nanning. Those of us going to Hanoi were eventually identified (some couldn’t understand Chinese). We loaded our bags onto trams which took us to the Chinese immigration.

After clearing Chinese immigration, we walked over to the Vietnamese immigration. I ran into the same commotion. This time, there were 4 guys working at the counter. All passports with arrival or departure cards were piled up at the same place. When cleared, the names of the passport holders were called out and we had to squeeze through the confused crowd behind the counter to get them.

A sigh of relief when the Vietnamese side was cleared. It was a windy 10 deg C. I’d rather the walk to the bus terminal, but a gentleman who saw my tag insisted that I waited for the tram. When the tram was full, we boarded, only to be stopped at another guard post. Check passports. Again? Well, judging from the commotion at the Vietnamese immigration, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone slipped through without getting his passport stamped.

Finally, we boarded the Vietnamese bus which was nowhere comparable to the sleek machine which took us to Friendship Pass. The “highway” on this side was winding and full of motorbikes. Lots of swerving, sudden braking and honking to chase the motorbikes out of the way.

We stopped briefly at a restaurant at Lang Son, then proceeded to Hanoi. We were supposed to alight at a bus station. Somehow, the bus took us somewhere else. A lot of questions in Mandarin from the passengers fell on deaf ears. Answers in Vietnamese were not understood. The Italian and Irish guy asked me what was going on. I shrugged my shoulders and got off. Unlike the first evening when I arrived at Hanoi, it was 14 deg C on this day.

Taxis were waiting. Tired from my long ride from Nanning, I got into one without thinking and aksed the driver to start the meter. Halfway through, I discovered that something was wrong. The meter was showing a ridiculously high fare. For less than 5km distance to the Old Quarter at Ma May, the fare shown was already higher than the 15km airport transfer.

I argued with the driver and refused to pay, but my backpack was locked in the boot. I realised I should have kept my backpack in front so I could exit the vehicle after throwing what he deserved at him. It’s one thing if I was cheated without knowing it. Here I was, knowing that he had cheated and he still refused to compromise or negotiate.

I checked into a budget hotel and poured my grievances on the receptionist. He’s a very pleasant-looking Vietnamese man 28 years old and proudly single. I asked him why his government didn’t take any action on these #$%^! drivers. He replied it’s because it’s a @##$! government.

I took a walk to Hoan Kiem Lake and took some pictures. The lake was crowded that day. Everyone seemed well prepared for the cold weather. And Tet was in full swing. The shrines and temples around the lake came alive with smoke and candle flames and the strain on the Sunbeam Bridge was almost palpable. Hawkers set up their makeshift stalls to sell snacks and colourful flour dolls. I had dinner at a very posh restaurant. I figured that since it was my last dinner in Hanoi, I might as well pamper myself with some fish stew and grilled beef. There was a little “stage” with a modest traditional Vietnamese performance. Men and women in traditional Vietnamese dresses filled the cosy, heated quarters with traditional Vietnamese sounds - including sounds from porcelain cups.

It was dark when I left the restaurant. It was cold outside and the crowds have cleared. I found the lights around the lake most enchanting and decided to take some pictures. There were some stone slabs which allowed me to rest my camera for a long exposure. But I was surprised that many of the stone seats were occupied by young, kissing Vietnamese couples. Some of them appeared to be in their teens.

So this is the new Vietnam.

This was my last day in Vietnam. I checked out of the hotel before breakfast and left my backpack with them. My flight was 8.30 that evening. Still gripped by taxiphobia, I decided to take a walk from Ma May to the famous, must-see Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.

First, a brief intro:

In his will, Ho Chi Minh stated stated quite clearly that he wished to be cremated and to have his ashes scattered in the hills of north, central, and southern Vietnam. It’s interesting to note that in spite of the deep respect that the powers that be seem to have for Mr Ho, they went against the hero’s wishes and built a mausoluem to house his preserved body.

The structure is 21.6 metres high and 41.2 metres wide. Flanking the mausoleum are two platforms with seven steps for parade viewing. The plaza in front of the mausoleum is divided into 240 green squares separated by pathways. The gardens surrounding the mausoleum have nearly 250 different species of plants and flowers, all from different regions of Vietnam.

The parade square looks and sounds interesting enough, but don’t ever try to get in from the numerous pathways. They are all guarded by whistle-blowing policemen. There are many ways by which you may leave the compound, but there is only one way to get in. No, it’s totally free and they are not afraid of visitors entering without paying. The most fundamental ruling here, is that you must pay your respect to Ho Chi Minh’s embalmed body before you can explore the other parts of the mausoleum.

Hence, even though there are numerous pathways leading to the mausoleum and no fences or signs saying that you can’t get in that way, you can be sure a whistle will be blown at you if you try to get in without first clearing security.

1. No bags allowed.
2. No cameras
3. No shorts or short skirts
4. No smoking
5. No hats

At the only dedicated entrance, you must join a long queue of Vietnamese and curious and probably unsuspecting foreigners. After going throught airport-like security screening, you surrender you camera and bag. These will be treated as checked in luggage. Once you begin your “journey” into the mausoleum, two by two like school children, the checked in cameras and bags will be transported to the exit where you’ll collect them. Everybody was understandably uneasy about it. Would they lose our bags or cameras?

Depending on the crowd, you may have to stand for hours on the “parade square” before entering the air-con mausoleum. As you approach the “red carpet”, further regulations come into force.

1. No talking.
2. No hands in the pockets.

Every few metres, there would be a soldier in white to make sure that you obey those regulations. Ho Chi Minh’s body is housed in a glass coffin in a darkened room. His body is illuminated by a couple of spotlights. Visitors walk anti-clockwise around the body and then exit the mausoleum proper. The surrendered cameras are waiting at the exit. They have been transported there from the entrance. If only Vietnamese airports could be so efficient.

Once out of the mausoleum, you are free to take pictures - that is provided you don’t get too close to the folks who are just about to enter the mausoleum. Try taking their picture and some grouchy policeman will shout at you. I’m sure we all respect and admire Ho Chi Minh. Do the keepers of the mausoleum need to go to such lengths to impose and ensure that respect?

It was a misty, chilly morning, 14deg C with a light breeze that made it seem colder. As I left the mausoleum with a lot more freedom to choose my path of exit than my path of entry, I couldn’t help noticing the glare of the huge communist slogans hanging on either side of the mausoleum. Equally glaring were the red flags with yellow sickles flapping in the wind. Looking through the mist, I caught a glimpse of what is really enshrined here.

Lunch was at Pho24, a beef noodle outlet.

http://pho24.com.vn/htmls/index.php?f=company.php&cur=6&about=1&language=en

After that, I was on my feet again, headed for the Temple of Literature. Having just come from China, the architecture of this old building wasn’t that impressive, but bearing in mind that this is Vietnam, the overwhelming Chinese influence here may blow you away. Inside and outside the compound, scrolls of Chinese calligraphy were on sale. Those inside were more the mass produced stuff. Outside, were the more interesting written-to-order scrolls for sale.

I walked back to the Old Quarter, had an early dinner of lemongrass chilli chicken with rice and collected my backpack from the hotel. A few last MSN messages to help out our proudly single receptionist with his numerous online girlfriends and I was off to the airport.

Translations/interpretations:

Friendliness is conducive to business success.; Amiability attracts riches.; An even temper brings wealth.; Good-naturedness is a source of wealth; Harmony brings wealth.; Peace breeds wealth.

A even temper brings wealth. This is my favourite. It doesn’t matter if some ignorant, impulsive, impatient and bad tempered brats don’t believe in it. The key to business success is not really “smartness” but good and bold strategy, hardwork, discipline, patience and an even temper. These beliefs are part and parcel of Chinese culture, especially during Chinese New Year.

During this festive season, there is plenty of buying and selling, cleaning and renewing. Demand for goodies like seafood, meat, vegetables go up. Prices follow suit. Schedules may get disrupted as people postpone major undertakings to after the new year. Along with all that, comes a bit of stress. But the party is about to start. We cast our worries aside, put on our finest attire and behaviour and greet the new year with a big smile.

When I was a kid, I was often admonished not to speak of anything negative during Chinese New Year. It doesn’t mean that we bury our heads in the sand. It simply means that we don’t spoil the festive mood which we remembered so well as kids. And I really enjoyed my Chinese New Year back then. All the sweets and good food. Catching up with relatives and friends. And of course, those red packets.

When I was a swinging single, I’ve called home from Thailand, Myanmar, India, Nepal and various other exotic destinations during Chinese New Year. Many people couldn’t understand why I would want to do something like that. Have I forgotten all the fun I had as a child? I guess like many other singles whose marriage was long overdue, I packed up and flew off to escape the irritating “so when are you getting married?” from my elders.

With my own family and kids now, Chinese New Year ought to be a lot more meaningful than before. Many people can’t understand why I still want to escape. Because one hand can never clap. I’m the only real Chinese at home who understands that Chinese New Year is not just about hanging red decorations. It’s not just about eating pineapple tarts, prawn rolls, love letters and kueh bangkit. It’s also about visiting, mingling, forgiving, forgetting and looking beyond the minor disputes and irritations around us.

Ironically, it is during this period that people who are either unfamiliar with the culture or who were not properly brought up would take the opportunity of reunion to rake up the past, reopen old wounds and pick fights. What is the point of hanging joyous couplets, keeping the brooms locked up or even praying to the god of fortune? To me, those are just superstitions. What really helps us prosper is to make peace with as many people who matter as possible, so we can focus on business and not fighting and grumbling.

There is no way I can impart values of even temper, tolerance, making do with less, patience and harmony when negative demonstrations fill the house. Year after year, there has been no exception. If anything, I have more reason to escape Chinese New Year now than ever before.

Happy New Year, everybody. Signing off until I come home from my trip.

To facilitate bonafide foreign tourists who plan their tours at a short notice, Government of India has decided to introduce “Tourist Visa-on-Arrival” for a period of one year for citizens of five countries viz. Finland, Japan, Luxembourg, New Zealand and Singapore on an experimental basis w.e.f. 1.1.2010. Tourists from the said countries can also procure their visas from the Missions / Posts in the normal course.

2. The said “Tourist Visa-on-Arrival” with a maximum validity of 30 days with single entry facility shall be granted by the Immigration Officers at Delhi, Mumbai, Chennai and Kolkata airports to start with.

3. The grant of a “Tourist Visa-on-Arrival” shall be regulated as per the guidelines prescribed in the Visa Manual.

New Delhi
January 1, 2010