GOODBYE VIETNAM

Children play in a Vietnamese park. They are growing up in a country at peace.

I’m back in Saigon, and I can’t believe my journey is finished.

My three country odyssey through the former war zones of Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia is finally over.

Back in my old District 1 haunts, I’m spending one of my final nights in Southeast Asia in my favorite hangout: Godmother's Bar. I had made friends here, while enjoying food, drink and Vietnamese hospitality. Sadly, it’s the end of the road for Godmother’s Bar too.

While the pub is popular, the building’s owners have decided to turn the bar into a tiny tourist hotel, like dozens of others crowded into the Pham Ngu Lao neighborhood. So the Godmother, the Vietnamese staff and my foreign friends are having a bittersweet celebration for closing night.

“It’s the end of an era,” says my teacher friend Jeff. Indeed.

As my favorite night spot closes, I reflect on the close of my long journey, and search for knowledge about life in post-war Southeast Asia. I wasn’t disappointed.

I traveled far and wide on jets, planes, motorboats, rowboats, ferries, buses, motorbikes, cyclos, tut-tuks, and even traveled across a river on the back of an elephant! 

I traveled to distant, remote former battlefields from the Vietnam War years, places that today's young people never heard of, and that old veterans will never forget.

I met veterans from so many armies: Viet Cong, North Vietnamese, South Vietnamese,  Pathet Lao, Khmer Rouge, and of course, American veterans of the war who had returned to Vietnam.

An elephant walks on a path in the Hue imperial palace complex.

One of them had become a buddy of mine. And now he’s gone too.

While I was away in Cambodia only weeks before, my friend Kenny Harris, a former US Marine Corps veteran, had died at sea.

Kenny had been away leading one of his scuba diving tours of Southeast Asia. One night their charter boat was anchored off the coast of Malaysia, when out of nowhere, their boat was rammed by a freighter. The tourists and crew were up on deck, and they all managed to swim to safety. Kenny was below deck sleeping. He didn’t have a chance.

I didn’t learn of this tragedy until I got back to Saigon. While I was away, they held a memorial night at Godmother’s Bar, dedicated to Kenny. They sat by a framed picture of the tall former Marine. Kenny had a lot of friends and they were there; with toasts all around from both foreigners and Vietnamese. Kenny would have approved. 

Rest In Peace Kenny. 

Now Kenny's gone, Godmother’s is closing, my journey is finished, and my story is ends. It's time to turn the page.

That’s how it has been here in Vietnam not just for my journey but in the decades since the war; life has moved on. There's been tragedy here, but no longer. The Vietnamese picked themselves up, rebuilt their country, and moved on.

The people I met here, young and old, generally had been hospitable, helpful, and patient. As I'm American, I was expecting to encounter anger and hostility in my forays through these former war zones. I never encountered that once, as far as I could see. It’s a fact that many Americans are far more bitter about the Vietnam War today, then the Vietnamese are. For them, the war is past, and they look to the future.

“The war was a long time ago,” I once heard from Ho, an ex-Viet Cong fighter. “No hate. No hate.” Those were wise words.

Both Ho, and the current Vietnamese government want to put the war behind them. They are welcoming Americans again, and they want to make friends.

We should do the same. 

Goodbye Vietnam.

I'll never forget you. 

BIZARRE FOOD, GUNS FOR ART

Elephant walking on Phnom Penh's riverfront

As Phnom Penh’s main riverfront street, Sisowath Quay certainly has character. Besides the occasional passing elephant, I’ve encountered sights that you'd never expect to see in any capital city.

One morning on a downtown bus, I saw a macaque monkey calmly making his way crossing this busy downtown street! He crossed the road by walking along an overhead powerline, like it was a vine in the jungle. Well, that’s one way to avoid the heavy traffic.

Other animals found on Sisowath Quay are not live, but served for lunch! Riverfront food covers a very wide range of tastes, including the bizarre. Today I look at a street vendor's food, and to my surprise she's selling fried frogs! Not frog legs, but whole fried frogs! Smaller than the average frog, these munchables can be yours for only 24 cents a piece.

As frogs are not to my taste, I keep looking. In another bowl, she’s selling fried spiders! These are also fried whole, and they look like tarantulas. Another day I saw a street vendor selling fried snakes! They were cooked whole, and each snake was curled up, as if it was hibernating.

Local street food in Phnom Penh includes fried snakes!

Although most river front restaurants have menus with normal fare, some have equally bizarre food items. Right down the street, are a string of ‘pot pizza’ restaurants. No kidding. They have names like ‘Happy Herb Pizza’. 

I've never tried any of these pizzas sprinkled with marijuana, the only mind altering thing I consume is beer. Locals don't eat there much either, but I did meet some American university students who had tried the 'happy' pizza. They left disappointed; none of them felt stoned. The joke was on them, they probably had been served pizza with oregano.

As there are more reputable restaurants on the river side, I enter a doorway down the block, and walk upstairs to what locals call, 'FCC'. This is the Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia. An open air colonial style restaurant, it overlooks the Bassac River from its rooftop terrace. A horseshoe shaped bar has ceiling fans overhead. News photos line the walls, dating back to Cambodia's war years.

Would you like some fried insects to snack on?

I've worked with journalists in years past, so I occasionally eat here for nostalgia. Renovated in 1992 by a Hong Kong company, it’s now open to the public. Foreign reporters are rare in Cambodia these days. With no more war here, war correspondents are off in Afghanistan or Iraq. Journos in town today prefer a bar where power players go, like the Elephant Bar. 

The FCC's clientele tonight is mostly backpackers and businessmen, with a diplomat and deminer mixed in with the locals. The lack of windows means there are also many uninvited 'airborne' guests. I hear one patron say, “If you’re going to drink at the FCC, you have to be willing to take insects out of your beer!”

The fact that this 'Foreign Correspondents Club' isn't really for journalists is fitting for Cambodia, as there isn't a free press here anymore. Prime Minister Hun Sen gives only lip service to free speech, and freedom of the press. The fact is, he's Ex-Khmer Rouge - he's been slowly clamping down on press freedoms for years.

Restaurant sign, made from cut-up AK-47 assault rifles!

A recent Phnom Penh headline, detailed how a local newspaper publisher had been accused of 'defamation' by the Cambodian government. His offence: publishing three articles uncovering corruption by officials working for Deputy Prime Minister Sok An. Soon after, a public statement given by 21 rights groups said those defamation charges were a ‘threat to journalists’.

Nearby down the riverfront, is another odd eatery, the Mexican themed, 'Cantina'. I ate there another night with an American friend. That evening I didn't find the decor impressive, until I saw the restaurant’s sign on the wall. Made by some artist, the words ‘Cantina’ had been made out of dark, twisted metalwork. Looking closer, I couldn't believe what I saw! I got up, and approached the sign to make sure.

Clock made from cut-up Kalashnikov rifles!

All the letters on the sign were made from cut up assault rifles! The artist took those AK-47's, sliced them to pieces, bent them into shape, and welded them together to form each metal letter.

Looking to another wall I found a clock, made of the same deadly Kalashnikov rifle material. For the first time during my Southeast Asia travels, I finally saw guns put to good use.

Although disarmament after the Cambodia's wars was extensive, it's still common to see AK-47's carried by local police. A Kalashnikov is more firepower than they need, but they also use them for economic reasons. With many thousands of AK-47's left over when the wars ended, it was much cheaper for the government to convert them from military to police use, rather than to spend millions of dollars buying new pistols for every police station in the country.

Thankfully, guns are not often used here, and murder and armed robbery are rare. But like in Vietnam, purse snatchings are common. An English teacher friend, was a victim of the worst kind of purse snatching. One Sunday she left a church service, when two men on a motorbike approached her from behind. When they grabbed her bag, she tried to let go of her purse, but couldn’t, as the strap was wrapped around her shoulder. She was dragged more than 100 feet down the street. She suffered serious abrasions, and had to go to the hospital to recover.

As terrible as that incident was for her, Cambodia's crime rate is still far lower than in the USA, especially for violent crime. Culturally Khmers are not confrontational people, and don't resort to violence as quickly as Americans these days. Thankfully, it looks like Cambodia's era of violence is behind them.

JACKIE KENNEDY ONASSIS DRANK HERE

Elephant walks in traffic in downtown Phnom Penh!

Walking out of a riverfront café, I’m confronted by an unusual sight: an elephant standing on the street corner before me. That’s right, a full grown Asian elephant, looking just as though he stepped out of the pages of the Jungle Book. I’ve seen these in more appropriate Southeast Asian locales, but what’s an elephant doing in downtown Phom Penh? 

The great animal had nobody riding him, and looking him over, I saw no saddle or adornments. The only extras that he wore, were circular wooden plates strapped to his soles. These kept his feet from burning on the hot pavement. 

Nobody except me seemed to even notice his presence. His only company was his Khmer handler, standing by his side. Dwarfed by the heavy beast, I watched as the handler prodded him with a pole. Following his command, the out of place pachyderm curled up his trunk, stepped off the sidewalk, and headed off into busy downtown traffic. He didn’t even gather a crowd. While motorbikes and cars passed the massive animal, their drivers didn’t even pause to look. The handler and elephant got as much attention, as a boy out walking his dog. This elephant was just another slow moving vehicle in downtown Phnom Penh.

Looking to escape the downtown myself, I scan the streets for a ride. Rather than a beast of burden, I choose a more common means of local transport, a tuk-tuk. This half-bred vehicle is a cross between a motorcycle in front, and golf cart in the back. Here these take the place of taxis; a rarity in poverty stricken Cambodia. 

Overweight monkey eats at Wat Phnom in the city

The driver hops in front, the undersized engine sputters, and we’re off into the downtown maze. Like everything else in Phnom Penh, city traffic has gone through several revolutions. On my first visit here a few years ago, noisy motorbikes ruled the streets. Back then downtown boulevards at rush hour were so thick with buzzing little motos, that crossing the street was a frightening experience. But automobiles have slowly come back, and are more common these days. Predictably, larger vehicles mean worse traffic. Toyotas are taking over the roads, along with the odd Mercedes driven by the elite. 

Taking me to the northern side of Phnom Penh, my tuk-tuk driver weaves through afternoon traffic, on a road curving around the city’s highest hill. It’s this hill that gave the city it’s name centuries ago. 'Phnom' translates as ‘hill’, and local legend says that a Madame 'Penh' once found four Buddhist statues over by the Mekong River, and placed them up on this overlook. There’s been a Buddhist temple (called a 'wat') up there ever since. 

Turning away from Wat Phnom onto Street 92, I’m on my way to another icon from the city’s past. Arriving out front, I approach the archways of a hotel. As I walk through the entrance, I feel like I’ve just stepped back in time. 

Jackie Kennedy visited in 1967(photo:Wikipedia)

The doorman greets me, wearing the traditional costume of a Khmer royal servant. Wearing a smart white coat, his ensemble is topped by a golden hat with a pointed spire at the peak. A musical trio entertains in the lobby; the flute, clarinet and cello play soft music from a bygone era. A European gentleman with a bushy moustache and silver handled cane, reads documents at a nearby table. The décor and architecture are all French. Much like in Laos and Vietnam, the influence of the former colonial masters is evident. It was as though I've just walked into a movie from Cambodia’s French colonial period, while the trio plays the movie soundtrack. At $300 a night, you too can have the colonial experience.

The Hotel Le Royal first opened in 1929, and is Phnom Penh’s oldest surviving hotel. It was also it’s much prestigious. This is where the rich, famous and powerful stayed in the capital. Silent film star Charlie Chaplin stayed here, along with the famed writer W. Somerset Maugham. Seeking more history, I enter the Elephant Bar – perhaps named for the elephant figures woven into the carpeting. Taking a seat at the bar, I glance around. The Elephant Bar is not especially grand, but hotel bars never are. I’m searching for the aura of notalgia, but there’s not much colonial feel in here anymore, except for the wicker chairs. 

I order a draught beer, from the same bar that once made Jackie Kennedy a champagne cocktail. The famous former First Lady stayed here in 1967, when she was on her way to Angor Wat. Word is that they kept the champagne glass that she had drank from here for years; complete with her red lipstick marks. 

Where rich and famous stayed, Le Royal is city's oldest surviving hotel (photo:Wikipedia)

As the years passed and the war in Vietnam spilled across the border into Cambodia, this bar became the place to be for expats looking for inside information. Diplomats, journalists, spies and the usual suspects used to meet here during the early 70’s, reporting on the ebbs and flows of the conflict. Information exchanged here led to headlines around the world. Pulitzer Prize winner Sidney Shanberg spent time here, and his experiences with his local fixer Dith Pran later become a book and movie. “The Killing Fields” brought the world’s attention to the genocide wrought upon the Cambodian people. 

Shanberg’s buddy John Swain wrote his book, “River of Time”, about the last days of this hotel before the city fell to the Khmer Rouge. As time grew short and rebels encircled the city, rooms on the top floor were available for only $5 a night. The cheap rate was only available because the Khmer Rouge were rocketing and shelling the city, so nobody wanted to sleep under a rooftop. Anyone sleeping on the top floor was the most likely to get killed during those final turbulent days. 

Back when the rebels took the capital in 1975, Le Royale was shut down., and Khmer Rouge troops moved in. What had once been the most glorious lodging in the land, had become the barracks for Khmer Rouge Battalion 310. Eventual peace and the return of foreigners saw the hotel reopened years later. After several name changes, renovations in 1997 sought to restore Le Royale to its former colonial glory. It’s now owned by the same company that owns the famed 'Raffles Hotel' in Singapore. 

There aren’t many foreign reporters in Cambodia anymore, but with the US embassy just down the street, diplomats still stay here. While seated at the bar, I spot a pair of them sitting nearby: two American government officials meeting with Cambodians. I start eavesdropping on their conversation, and I catch the phrase, “The US government does not” – but I miss what the diplomat says next. I wonder how he finished that sentence. Listening further, I learn their conversation is nothing secret; they’re only talking about an education project. Still, given the history of this Phnom Penh hotel, I wonder how many times that very phrase has been said in this bar before... 

I finish my beer at the bar, and head back out into Phnom Penh traffic. There's still much to see in this intriguing city. 

AIRBORNE ELEPHANTS LEAVING LAOS

Old domestic terminal of Vientiane's Wattay Airport

I’ve left the far north of this lovely land of Laos, and made my way to Wattay Airport, in the capital Vientiane. I’m not here for long though, I’m waiting for a flight. Soon, I’ll be departing. Leaving Laos. 

Overall it’s been an enlightening visit, and I regret that I’m leaving. I only had one close call in Laos. That was the unfortunate encounter between my trousers and a knife, which happened while I was riding on the back of an elephant!  

Walking around the shops and restaurants of the international departure terminal, I find it more modern than expected. The domestic terminal is a relic, (more like a bus station) but the air conditioned international terminal is an oddity of advanced development for such a poor country. Foreign diplomats always fly in and out of here, and just like in other third world capital airports, diplomats hate to be uncomfortable. So they were more than happy to provide foreign aid money to build this new international terminal, to make their own airport experiences smooth and comfy. 

Before I bid adieu to Laos, I stare out the departure gate window across the tarmac. Once again, Laos surprises me!

Will an elephant from Laos survive in North Korea?

Farther down to my left, I see a Russian built cargo jet. What surprises me, is the large starred flag painted across the tail. My eyes widen. There’s no mistaking that flag, this bulky jet is from another communist country. It’s flown all the way here, from North Korea! 

Straining my eyes to see what’s going on, I can see that the rear cargo doors are swung open, and a large truck has been backed up to the tail end. 

What could they be loading? This wasn’t any secret cargo. If there was, they would have loaded the jet over in the military area of the airport, out of sight from foreigners like me. What were they loading exactly? 

TWO ELEPHANTS !

Reported in the media, this pair of departing pachyderms were a gift from the People’s Democratic Republic of Laos, to their communist brothers in the People’s Democratic Republic of North Korea. (Those are strange titles for both, since neither country has any real democracy.)

Never mind that Laos isn’t really communist anymore, as capitalism abounds. There is still oppression here, but it’s nowhere near as bad as in North Korea today. But since the cold war is over and the reds lost, the North Koreans will take all the friends that they can get, even a poor landlocked friend like Laos.

It makes sense that they have to fly the elephants there on a cargo jet; they might not survive an overland trip in trucks, followed by a long sea voyage in a cargo ship. 

Leaving Laos. I'll miss this place.

Then again, I  wonder about the wisdom of sending Asian elephants to North Korea at all. Elephants have enormous appetites, and North Korea is prone to food shortages. I don’t expect that those Laotian elephants will be eating very well after they arrive. And how well will these elephants survive those cold North Korean winters, when they come from a tropical climate?

I’ll miss the simple charms of this warm locale, but now I have to leave this lovely country. My visa has already been extended, and it runs out tomorrow. My time in Laos is up. I will have to cross borders to avoid fines, or risk trouble with the authorities. 

Today I fly back to Saigon in Vietnam, but I won’t be there long either. Traveling on, I will make my way to the final country on my Southeast Asian odyssey.

Cambodia.


**NOTE** The old international airport for Vientiane has been closed. The new airport has opened, across the street.

ELEPHANT CAVE AND UNDERGROUND THEATER

Ledge for anti-aircraft guns

I continue exploring this communist caveland of Viengxay, and now I'm climbing many, many steps up the stone mountain. The steep climb is enough to make my long legs sore. 

Finally, we reach a large ledge that has been cut right into the limestone of the mountainside. It’s a steep drop below me, with a commanding view beyond. In the distance are more mountains, with feathery clouds dotting their peaks. Beautiful rolling farmers fields are swathed in many shades of green. 

My guide Kale tells me his family is from Viengxay; his parents were farmers here during those fearful times of war. He says that when they were out working the fields then, and enemy aircraft came, they ran into the jungle or into the caves to hide. When day time air attacks became frequent, they could hardly get any work done at all. So they began working fields at night. 

The commanding view from this ledge is no accident, because this vantage point was once the site of a Pathet Lao anti-aircraft emplacement. The old guns are gone, but a sign here describes what days were like back then. 

“Defending Viengxay

Anti-aircraft guns were fixed inside this cave and on the plain below. The Anti-aircraft gunnery commander was situated high in this cave, where there was a good view across the plain to the west. From here field telephones were used to command the gun emplacements on the plain and to direct fire at the incoming enemy aircraft. Warning sirens on top of the peaks were set off when incoming planes were spotted. 

Anti-aircraft gunner's view of plains and mountains surrounding Viengxay

Anti-aircraft gunners sat here for hours on end surveying the skies to the west. They were waiting for American bombers to arrive from their bases in northern Thailand, mainly from a specially constructed base in Udon Thani, or Royal Lao Government aircraft from Vientiane. When the bombers were seen, the noise from the guns firing from inside the confined space of the cave must have been deafening. For the gunners on the open plains below, the risks were even higher than for their comrades in the caves, as they were directly exposed to attacking aircraft. You can see bomb craters just below this cliff, at the base of the stairs to the Artillery Cave.”

I peer down at the ground to look for the craters, but they're difficult to see with the thick brush below. It may not be entirely safe down there either. Even though there have been three decades for erosion to fill in many of the old craters, there are still many unexploded bombs in the ground all around Viengxay. 

Farmers still find these old bombs when they're out plowing fields in the region. Being a farmer can be a hazardous profession in Laos. 

'Elephant Cave', the largest cave in the underground communist city

Continuing on, I finally reach the biggest cave in all of Viengxay, and it’s an impressive sight. I’m gawking at the cave of Xanglot, which translates as ‘Elephant Pass Cave’. The jagged and uneven limestone ceiling curves from 20 feet high at the sides, up to more than 30 feet near the middle. The cave is well named; a full grown Asian elephant could walk in through one end of this cave, and straight out the other. 

In the underground world that made up wartime Viengxay, this was an important political center. There were official functions in this huge cave; communist party rallys and propaganda meetings.  For the Pathet Lao, this was kind of like Moscow’s Red Square, only in a bomb shelter. It was also used as a lecture hall for military training. 

Thanks to it’s larger entrances, I have plenty of light to see. At the far end is a curious sight, a theatrical stage. That reveals this place's other name: 'Theater Cave'. 

Photo display of old wartime performances and rallies

The cave stage is complete with an orchestra pit, and a room in the wings for costume changes. The stage floor isn’t made of wood though, it’s smoothened bedrock. I imagine there wasn’t much tap dancing here. 

Out in front, the audience section had room for 2,000 comrades, where they sat out on the bare rock floor to enjoy the show. 

In the sheltered, underground life that everyone in wartime Viengxay endured, this was one of the few places where the soldiers and locals could enjoy themselves and forget about the bombings for a while. 

There were cultural shows, circus acts, and singing with live music for the party faithful. There were even special appearances by female performers doing traditional dances, brought all the way in from Vietnam. These were the communist versions of USO shows. It wasn’t Bob Hope, but it did a lot to lift their spirits and boost morale. 

Visitor walks across the old empty stage

The Theater Cave still gets some use nowadays; the local community uses it as a venue for the Laotian New Year’s celebration. But for the most part, the old stage is quiet and bare; even the old curtain has been removed. 

The days when Pathet Lao troops here, enjoyed the communist version of vaudeville underneath a mountain, are now only distant memories. 

KNIFED BY AN ELEPHANT !

Elephants and their Laotian mahouts. I rode the elephant in the center.

There are many ways to travel across rugged terrain in poor countries that lack paved roads. To reach my destinations over muddy tracks, I’ve ridden in all manner of four wheel drive vehicles. When there have been only paths, I’ve occasionally ridden mountain bikes, motorbikes, and horses. I even rode a camel once. But this one definitely tops them all.

An elephant!

I’m high on the back of an Asian elephant, riding the ultimate beast of burden as it ambles down a jungle trail in northern Laos. Except for the occasional flap of its great ears, the massive animal’s movements are slow and deliberate. She walks slower than I had imagined, but then again, I never imagined I’d ever ride an elephant at all.

My elevated seat is a chair shaped saddle, strapped to the pachyderm’s back. Directly in front of me a mahout in camouflage fatigues sits astride the elephant’s neck. 

Temple mosaic shows royalty rode elephants

Wondering how it feels, I reach down to touch the powerful animal’s skin. It feels thicker than leather; rough to the touch. 

I have a commanding view up here, high enough that I occasionally have to push tree branches away from my face. I have the same vantage point European hunters had as they hunted tigers from atop these pachyderms during the colonial era. King’s of old from this region used them too. Rather than horses, many Southeast Asian monarchs preferred riding elephants into battle. 

Old Laos was once known as ‘the land of a million elephants’, but there are far fewer of them in the country these days. Some remote communities still use them for labor in the lumber trade. Using their great strength, they are trained to knock down trees, and drag logs through terrain too rough for vehicles. In remote regions, there are still wild herds that survive in the shrinking jungles. 

The view from atop the elephant, crossing a river

The trees open up to a river bank, and the mahout climbs up from the elephants neck to take a seat on the chair next to me. He barks out commands, and the elephant steps into the water. Apparently we’re crossing this dark river just as we are. This isn’t the Mekong River but it’s no creek either, it looks deep. 

I want to ask the mahout how deep the channel is, but he doesn’t speak English. The great beast carefully moves ahead step by step, and the water comes up the beasts shoulders. I glance at the mahout, he’s pulled his bare feet up on the saddle to stay dry. Soon the water is high enough that the elephant lifts the tip of his trunk above water, so that she can continue breathing. 

But the water level doesn’t reach the saddle; I remain dry as the beast ascends the far riverbank and emerges from the water. The elephant probably enjoys these occasional dips, since it’s such a hot tropical day. The water drips off her hide, as she continues down a well worn path into a riverside village. 

Friendly local children greet me as our elephant passes through their village

Three petite children run out to watch the elephant lumber through their village. “Sabadee! Sabadee!” (Hello! Hello!) one calls out, smiling as he waves at the strange white foreigner. 

“Sabadee!” I yell back. Another Laotian villager on the ground greets my mahout, who commands the elephant to stop while they briefly chat in Lao. For some reason, he then hands the mahout a long knife. The knife doesn’t have a sheath, and he stows the blade just beneath my seat. I don’t think anything of it at the time, but I will regret this later. 

After continuing on through more jungle, my all too brief ride above this magnificent animal comes to an end. The mahout guides my ride toward a bamboo platform, where I can safely dismount. 

But it’s not as safe as I think. As the elephant approaches the platform, he brushes up against a nearby tree. The tree bumps the side of my chair, right where the handle of the knife is sticking out. In a flash, the knife is wedged out, and cuts right into my leg!

R-I-I-I-P! I hear the sound of my blue jeans tearing, as the long blade cuts at my right thigh. 

"YEOW!" I yell, as I jump to the side. I’ve been cut! That happened so fast, I had no time to avoid it. My mind races, I’m in serious trouble. 

The knife cut a hole in my blue jeans

I lift my knee to look, and I’m both surprised and relieved to see no blood flowing. A long V-shaped hole has been slashed open in my trousers. The skin on my thigh stings, but fortunately it wasn’t cut open. I've been saved by blue jeans! Gotta love that strong American denim. It’s a good thing that I wasn’t wearing shorts, or I would have been cut and bleeding for sure. 

I climb off the elephant onto the platform, and the mahout looks at me blankly. I’m raging at his carelessness, which nearly injured me. I point at the gaping hole in my jeans. He makes no reaction, not saying a word. He knows he screwed up, and now he’s trying to 'save face'.

I mutter a few insults at him that he doesn’t understand, and walk away. No tip for him. 

Seething with anger I climb into a van, for a safer ride back to Luang Prabang. I’m upset that I lost a pair of jeans, but I’m very lucky to have walked away from that knifing without needing stitches. I guess I could call that a really close shave. Literally. 

RUINS OF THE BATTLE FOR HUE

A hole was blown into this Citadel wall during the 1968 Tet Offensive

It’s another day in the former imperial city of Hue, and I make another visit to the massive Citadel, where the kings lived. This time I’m in the southwest of the complex, walking along the inside wall of the old fortress. Several feet thick in places, it's made of stone blocks and brick. It's also heavily scarred in many places. Back during the war, communist troops took over the entire Citadel in the 1968 Tet Offensive. This part of the Citadel was among the last of the holdouts for the communist side, and they they put up a fierce battle against US forces here.

Shrapnel holes still scar the Citadel's walls

Many war damaged buildings are still in ruins

Walking along the wall, some marks peppered here and there are from individual bullet rounds. They are dwarfed by much larger holes and damage from heavier American military might. Since the stubborn North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and Viet Cong (VC) were so well entrenched behind the thick walls of the Citadel, American forces had to rain down everything short of B-52 strikes, in order to take the Citadel back. Some of the explosions have blown holes through the thick brick walls large enough for a man to crawl through. There’s still a lot of shrapnel and spent bullets lodged deep inside the old walls as well.

In the fighting for Hue and the Citadel, communist troops were well supplied, well armed, and well entrenched. In the first days of the fierce battle, the ARVN and small number of US Army troops that faced them were unable to win back the city on their own. So what was the solution for the American generals? Send in the Marines.

Brought in from their base just south of the city in Phu Bai, the US Marines had mainly been fighting in Vietnam’s countryside. To retake Hue, they would face their first urban battle in Vietnam. As they battled through the city, the Marines had to fight their way from house to house, and block to block. Progress was slow, and fighting was heavy. They first battled to retake the south side of the city, and after a rare amphibious crossing of the Perfume River, they moved to attack the heavily fortified Citadel where I am now.

Reconstruction is underway for this royal walkway

The queen mother's tile floor is now exposed to the elements

Although the French had attacked the Citadel in decades past, the fighting that took place here between the Marines, and the communist troops was the heaviest fighting the Citadel had ever seen. The scarred walls and ruins still here remain as silent witnesses to the destruction. When the battle for the Citadel was finally over and the city of Hue was declared secure, the total number of casualties was high. The ARVN had 380 dead, and 1,800 wounded. For the Marines, about 150 were killed, and more than 800 injured. This was an extremely high rate of casualties, and amounted to almost half of the Marines in Hue.

Facing massive firepower, the number of NVA and VC casualties was even higher, with an estimated 5,000 dead. Trapped in the citadel in the final days, many had fought to the end. In what had been one of Vietnam’s most beautiful cities, more than half of Hue had been destroyed.

Meandering through the other walled in enclosures, I enter Ta Tra royal hall, an old royal waiting room for the queen mother. On the floor is gorgeous, intricate royal tilework, but above it, there is open sky. Only the building’s frame remains standing, it’s a skeleton of a building now. An engraved sign states, “TA TRA BUILDING WAS SERIOUSLY DAMAGED BY WAR IN 1968 AND BY A TYPHOON IN 1985.”

An elephant roaming the Citadel? It's tied down. Or is it?

Between the wars, typhoons and aging, it’s a wonder that any of the royal complex survived at all. Some of the compounds in the Imperial City are nearly vacant. The long green grass of nature has replaced luxurious buildings, and only a few broken walls and old foundations remain. 

Leaving the battle scarred section, I stroll over to the Citadel's restored side.  Here one part of the royal complex has been transformed into an art university. As I walk past it appears that school is out, since I don’t see any students. The only resident I see inside now, is an elephant! He seemed to be staring right at me, waving his great ears back and forth as I walked past. With tall grass around his feet, I couldn’t tell if he was tethered to anything, or not. I wasn’t about to approach him to find out. 

He must have been secured somehow; I can’t imagine an elephant being allowed to roam loose inside the Citadel.