The railroad runs through the middle of the town,

There may be a prize for whoever can identify the original recording artist, 1950's era, for the above title.

Breakfasted, we set off from our hotel, which is round the corner from round the corner from round the corner from a street whose name is unpronounceable for westerners, so great for getting lost.

We walked all day - 9 hours - with only two short sit downs for lunch and a beer. First we visited the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum. What a palaver. Had to leave a small penknife at the first checkpoint, when abandon a mini Leatherman at checkpoint 2, then my camera and Sue's Kindle at checkpoint 3. We then shuffled about half a mile with hundreds of Vietnamese & 27 westerners. 30 seconds in the presence of Uncle Ho's mortal remains - due to go for his annual maintenance holiday soon.
A bit of an anti-climax, but great fun in the 1/2 hour queue, talking to some school kids and a teacher of English. They are all very polite, but their curiosity about westerners just bursts out, with youthful enthusiasm, mixed with a natural reticence.

Camera etc recovered - involved back tracking over a couple of crowd control devices - we headed for an important Pagoda, on an island on a lake, one of several, in the city centre. Another anti-climax as the approach causeway wasn't wholly there, but we contented ourselves with a photo, and a walk round the lake. Then stumbled upon the Military Museum, by the Flag Tower. Lots of shiny Russian & Chinese war machines and a pile of duffed up USA warplanes etc. Lots of exhibits & propaganda on both the Revolution against the French colonial rule and the American War. Then on to the Hanoi Hilton, or what is left of it:-
Quite a disturbing building, housing memorabilia & remnants of the wars against France & USA. Originally built in 1886 - 89 by the French colonials to incarcerate and torture all and any revolutionaries, it later provided less than humane accommodation for captured American pilots, although the VN propaganda would suggest otherwise.

All of this simply serves to illustrate and remind us of the incredible capacity for inhumanity apparently dormant within all of us, and of course, the futility of it all.

I'm tempted to be critical of the French colonials, but remind myself of who had the greatest colonial empire, and wonder what we did to obtain it.

Enough already!

Off out for a Saturday night slap-up meal - 5 kinds of noodles with 3 varieties of rice, cooked on a charcoal brazier on the pavement of our street, next to the loose concrete cover to the open drain, just to tease the rats.

Looking forward to Sunday, honest injun.
G&S