Hanoi - Saigon

After a quick trip to pay my respects to Respected Uncle Ho at his Mausoleum I head to the train station on the back of a moped. With a large rucksack and two people, driving through the crowded streets is something of a lottery, a Deer Hunter roulette with every crossroads another spin. The helmet doesn't have a strap, so one hand has to be used to hold this on. The other to hold the bag or for taking photos and the third for holding onto the moped. You may have spotted the flaw in these safety proceedures.

On the train my carriage is full of group of German travellers who are having an incredibly merry time in the corridor, offering swigs of various international alcohols to every train employee that tries to squeeze past, offers often accepted. Eventually the party adjourns to one of the cabins, with younger members of the party on the top bunks and older ones on the bottom. Cheese and biscuits are brought out and celebrations continue. Mr Hung, who I met earlier on the platform with his young son, comes to the cabin to find me, but is a little taken aback by the revelry. We head up to his carriage instead. Here the dinner ladies, with their carts full of all manner of fare, mysterious, sometimes in a way that piques the curiosuity and sometimes in a way that makes me want it to remain a mystery indefinitely. I have some egg rolls and rice.

The views as we traverse through the Hai Van Pass, meaning Sea Cloud, are spectaular. Between Danang and Hue you have on one side a gorgeous turquoise and on the other a deep, lush green. The train climbs the winding pass through the mountains slowly, while I am playing Chinese chess in the cabin of Mr Ngyuen, assisted by the 92 year old Mr Le, who speaks French. His daughter and grand-daughter are there too, but they don't play. After a couple of games I go to take some pictures. As we descend, following the line of the shore past large tidal fishing nets suspended from four poles, we often have to slow almost to a stop to cross fragile bridges. Here people jump up and grab onto the train, hitching a lift until the the next town, where the leap off again.

Chinese chess is a little like normal chess, except there is a river in the middle of the board and you move along lines instead of in the squares. The game is immensely popular in Vietnam and always draws a crowd, a crowd who will often dispense much advice, all of which sounds extremely sage and wisdomful. However just because the person nodding slowly while giving the advice looks like the old master from the last Chinese film I saw doesn't mean he's the best player.

Before I go to bed a woman requests that I marry her daughter. This doesn't happen very often but its wise to have practiced the art of politely declining in case the situation ever arises. When I get back to the cabin a tiny mouse politely declines my request that it leave. Tomorrow morning both he and I will be in Saigon.