Wednesday 27 June
I set the alarm for 3.45 am - the taxi's booked for 4.45 am to take us to Hue station, where we will catch the 5.30 am train to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). The train journey is scheduled to take 25 hours we are told, arriving in Saigon at about 6.30 am.
The Jade Hotel staff have kindly packed us up a breakfast - they've been really generous and have given us enough for lunch as well - hard boiled eggs and baguettes, salt and pepper in tiny hand-twisted wrappers, bananas and biscuits. We love that hostel and it's staff, and would thoroughly recommend it to other travellers.
We're really surprised that there's a lot of traffic on the road at 5 o'clock in the morning. Hue Railway Station is busy with passengers awaiting trains; we spot 2 "Westerners" in the waiting room. After about 15 minutes our train arrives and Reg and I do our usual trundle to the platform. Reg wheels along my heavy suitcase and his large rucksack, and I take the 2 smaller rucksacks, the heavy one on my back, and my purple birthday rucksack on my front. We manage well this way for the time being, but know we have to think about redistributing weight before our flight home.
We're in a 4 berth cabin, but for the 1st time, both Reg and I have top bunks, as these were the only available seats. Reg is used to climbing up to the top bunk, but I haven't had to do it yet. As mentioned yesterday, there's no ladder, just a small foot-rest flap on either side of the cabin door, halfway between the top and bottom bunks.
Luckily we get to the train cabin first, before the bottom bunk passengers, so we quickly wedge our huge suitcase into it's usual place, underneath the window table, in the narrow aisle between the 2 bottom bunks. Our other luggage fits into the ceiling shelf.
I thought the worst thing about being allocated 2 top bunks would be the fact that I would have to climb down (and up again) every time I needed to use the loo, especially when I needed to go in the night; also that every time Reg and I wanted a cuppa, one of us would have to get down (and up again) to fetch the boiling water from the corridor, and of course to make the tea. But no, the worst thing about being on the top bunk is that you are really close to the air-conditioning unit in the ceiling, and it's freezing cold up there - even though the temperature outside is 37 deg c! Even when I wear my cardigan and Reg's fleece, it still reminds me of the freezing winter's night when I (as youth worker) accompanied our youth group on a sponsored sleepover in the open-air, in aid of a homeless people's charity. And I was a lot younger then, and more prepared, and really well wrapped up!
As soon as we've organised our luggage we need to get up onto our top bunks, as there's nowhere else for us to sit; unlike when I usually have a bottom bunk, and we can stretch out on opposite ends of that until bedtime, which makes life a lot easier.
I'm not the most agile of people, unlike the Hue boatwoman, and most Vietnamese people "in older age"; they've mostly led very hard, physical lives, and are also used to sitting cross legged on the floor, and coopy-ing down for the toilet, instead of sitting on one. I contemplate the climb up to the top bunk with apprehension, but hey, the other passengers in our cabin have arrived, and they can't sort themselves and their luggage out unless Reg and I are out of the way. Also we notice there are 5 of them in this Vietnamese family - Mum, Dad, two young children and Grandma - and they are all going to squash onto the 2 bottom bunks. I don't think this is strictly allowed but Reg thinks they might have a couple more berths in the next train carriage, but they want to stay together in this one. There will definitely be no room for us to even make a cuppa very easily down below, let alone stand up in the narrow aisle between the lower bunks.
Facing the cabin door, I am attempting to climb onto the bunk to my right, I put my right foot on the nearest bunk, and with a gigantic effort, lift myself up, so that my left foot on the left foot-flap; I lift my right foot from the bottom bunk to the right foot flap - so I now have legs astride the door and am wondering how to twist my body around at right angles so that I can put my knee onto the top bunk. Holding the handle above the right-hand bunk with my left hand, I somehow manouevre my left knee onto the bunk - I did it! Much to Reg's relief and mine I crawl along the mattress and twist round into a sitting position, watched by the bemused (or amused?) Vietnamese family.
Once I've managed this a few times ( having to get up and down for the loo, and to warm up in the corridor of the train from time to time) I'm getting to be quite a dab-hand at it.
"I won't worry about trying to get at least one bottom bunk in future," says Reg.
"But I'd much rather have a bottom bunk," I plead," it's absolutely freezing up here." But I'm secretely pleased that I've crossed another hurdle by mastering the art of top-bunk climbing,
The Vietnamese family are with us from the start of our train journey in Hue until about 1 o'clock the following morning; the only person who can communicate with us a little is the mother, who appears very sweet, and is grateful for the wad of tissues I give her when her 4 year old is sick all over one of the bottom bunks.
As soon as the family leave the train, their bottom bunks are filled by an elderly disabled man and another man in his 50's, both Vietnamese. They chat away loudly for ages in the high-pitched sing-song Vietnamese language, oblivious to (or not concerned about) the fact that Reg and I are trying to sleep. It's so cold on the top bunk that sleep is virtually impossible anyway,
Soon after our 2 new occupants finally quieten down and go to sleep, I need to descend from my top bunk to go to the toilet. I hold on for a while, but needs must, and flick on the little light above my bunk before deftly (well, ok, more like an elephant really) climbing down to floor level. But I can't open the sliding cabin door! I feel for the door handle but can't find it at all. After fumbling about for a few minutes I shake Reg gently awake.
"Reg! Sorry but I need the loo and I can't open the door! I think the handles's missing!"
"Nnnnnn...... whassat?" says Reg in a dozy voice.
I explain again and Reg, bless him, climbs down to investigate. He can't find the handle either, but eventually he does, on the cabin floor. But the metal rod has somehow slipped back into the door and there's no way of putting the handle back on, or of turning the metal rod.
"We'll have to bang on to the door," I say. "We can't stay here until morning. I need the toilet."
We bang on the door but no-one comes - we stop short of shouting for help. At this point the Vietnamese man in his 50's who talked loudly for ages while we were trying to get to sleep in the middle of the night, gets up and tries to open the door. He too realises that the handle has come off and there seems nothing we can do to get out.
Reg is fiddling with the door, and I don't know what he does, but it shoots open, and I'm finally able to go the toilet.
"I know what to do now," says my mechanically minded husband proudly. "You have to push these two things together to make it open."
In the morning, before we get off the train, which arrives 2 hours late into Hanoi, we show the guard that the door handle has come off. But he's at the end of his shift and has already changed into his civvies, and isn't really interested.
"If I had a screwdriver I could fix it straight away," Reg says to me.
"It'll take someone getting locked in that cabin in the middle of the night, who doesn't have a "Reg" around who can fix the door, before they do anything," I say.
I set the alarm for 3.45 am - the taxi's booked for 4.45 am to take us to Hue station, where we will catch the 5.30 am train to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). The train journey is scheduled to take 25 hours we are told, arriving in Saigon at about 6.30 am.
The Jade Hotel staff have kindly packed us up a breakfast - they've been really generous and have given us enough for lunch as well - hard boiled eggs and baguettes, salt and pepper in tiny hand-twisted wrappers, bananas and biscuits. We love that hostel and it's staff, and would thoroughly recommend it to other travellers.
We're really surprised that there's a lot of traffic on the road at 5 o'clock in the morning. Hue Railway Station is busy with passengers awaiting trains; we spot 2 "Westerners" in the waiting room. After about 15 minutes our train arrives and Reg and I do our usual trundle to the platform. Reg wheels along my heavy suitcase and his large rucksack, and I take the 2 smaller rucksacks, the heavy one on my back, and my purple birthday rucksack on my front. We manage well this way for the time being, but know we have to think about redistributing weight before our flight home.
We're in a 4 berth cabin, but for the 1st time, both Reg and I have top bunks, as these were the only available seats. Reg is used to climbing up to the top bunk, but I haven't had to do it yet. As mentioned yesterday, there's no ladder, just a small foot-rest flap on either side of the cabin door, halfway between the top and bottom bunks.
Luckily we get to the train cabin first, before the bottom bunk passengers, so we quickly wedge our huge suitcase into it's usual place, underneath the window table, in the narrow aisle between the 2 bottom bunks. Our other luggage fits into the ceiling shelf.
I thought the worst thing about being allocated 2 top bunks would be the fact that I would have to climb down (and up again) every time I needed to use the loo, especially when I needed to go in the night; also that every time Reg and I wanted a cuppa, one of us would have to get down (and up again) to fetch the boiling water from the corridor, and of course to make the tea. But no, the worst thing about being on the top bunk is that you are really close to the air-conditioning unit in the ceiling, and it's freezing cold up there - even though the temperature outside is 37 deg c! Even when I wear my cardigan and Reg's fleece, it still reminds me of the freezing winter's night when I (as youth worker) accompanied our youth group on a sponsored sleepover in the open-air, in aid of a homeless people's charity. And I was a lot younger then, and more prepared, and really well wrapped up!
As soon as we've organised our luggage we need to get up onto our top bunks, as there's nowhere else for us to sit; unlike when I usually have a bottom bunk, and we can stretch out on opposite ends of that until bedtime, which makes life a lot easier.
I'm not the most agile of people, unlike the Hue boatwoman, and most Vietnamese people "in older age"; they've mostly led very hard, physical lives, and are also used to sitting cross legged on the floor, and coopy-ing down for the toilet, instead of sitting on one. I contemplate the climb up to the top bunk with apprehension, but hey, the other passengers in our cabin have arrived, and they can't sort themselves and their luggage out unless Reg and I are out of the way. Also we notice there are 5 of them in this Vietnamese family - Mum, Dad, two young children and Grandma - and they are all going to squash onto the 2 bottom bunks. I don't think this is strictly allowed but Reg thinks they might have a couple more berths in the next train carriage, but they want to stay together in this one. There will definitely be no room for us to even make a cuppa very easily down below, let alone stand up in the narrow aisle between the lower bunks.
Facing the cabin door, I am attempting to climb onto the bunk to my right, I put my right foot on the nearest bunk, and with a gigantic effort, lift myself up, so that my left foot on the left foot-flap; I lift my right foot from the bottom bunk to the right foot flap - so I now have legs astride the door and am wondering how to twist my body around at right angles so that I can put my knee onto the top bunk. Holding the handle above the right-hand bunk with my left hand, I somehow manouevre my left knee onto the bunk - I did it! Much to Reg's relief and mine I crawl along the mattress and twist round into a sitting position, watched by the bemused (or amused?) Vietnamese family.
Once I've managed this a few times ( having to get up and down for the loo, and to warm up in the corridor of the train from time to time) I'm getting to be quite a dab-hand at it.
"I won't worry about trying to get at least one bottom bunk in future," says Reg.
"But I'd much rather have a bottom bunk," I plead," it's absolutely freezing up here." But I'm secretely pleased that I've crossed another hurdle by mastering the art of top-bunk climbing,
The Vietnamese family are with us from the start of our train journey in Hue until about 1 o'clock the following morning; the only person who can communicate with us a little is the mother, who appears very sweet, and is grateful for the wad of tissues I give her when her 4 year old is sick all over one of the bottom bunks.
As soon as the family leave the train, their bottom bunks are filled by an elderly disabled man and another man in his 50's, both Vietnamese. They chat away loudly for ages in the high-pitched sing-song Vietnamese language, oblivious to (or not concerned about) the fact that Reg and I are trying to sleep. It's so cold on the top bunk that sleep is virtually impossible anyway,
Soon after our 2 new occupants finally quieten down and go to sleep, I need to descend from my top bunk to go to the toilet. I hold on for a while, but needs must, and flick on the little light above my bunk before deftly (well, ok, more like an elephant really) climbing down to floor level. But I can't open the sliding cabin door! I feel for the door handle but can't find it at all. After fumbling about for a few minutes I shake Reg gently awake.
"Reg! Sorry but I need the loo and I can't open the door! I think the handles's missing!"
"Nnnnnn...... whassat?" says Reg in a dozy voice.
I explain again and Reg, bless him, climbs down to investigate. He can't find the handle either, but eventually he does, on the cabin floor. But the metal rod has somehow slipped back into the door and there's no way of putting the handle back on, or of turning the metal rod.
"We'll have to bang on to the door," I say. "We can't stay here until morning. I need the toilet."
We bang on the door but no-one comes - we stop short of shouting for help. At this point the Vietnamese man in his 50's who talked loudly for ages while we were trying to get to sleep in the middle of the night, gets up and tries to open the door. He too realises that the handle has come off and there seems nothing we can do to get out.
Reg is fiddling with the door, and I don't know what he does, but it shoots open, and I'm finally able to go the toilet.
"I know what to do now," says my mechanically minded husband proudly. "You have to push these two things together to make it open."
In the morning, before we get off the train, which arrives 2 hours late into Hanoi, we show the guard that the door handle has come off. But he's at the end of his shift and has already changed into his civvies, and isn't really interested.
"If I had a screwdriver I could fix it straight away," Reg says to me.
"It'll take someone getting locked in that cabin in the middle of the night, who doesn't have a "Reg" around who can fix the door, before they do anything," I say.
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