Vietnam - The Reunification Express

The distance from our current residence in Ninh Binh to our next destination in Hoi An is seven hundred kilometers, and the only options for travel between the two cities are long bus or train rides. We chose the North-South Railway since an overnight train ride seemed to be the more exotic alternative.  The North-South train line connects Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City on a single track and was first built by the French colonial government at the end of the eighteenth century.  The line was damaged by heavy bombing and sabotage during the Vietnam War but continued to run even though the resulting poor infrastructure was the cause of many accidents and derailments.  The train system has gone by the unofficial name of The Reunification Express since the end of the war in 1975, and the government has made successful efforts to improve safety and efficiency along the tracks in the last few decades.  We traveled by train several times in Italy, and we had enjoyed the experience on the smooth and speedy rails; so we looked forward to the fourteen-hour overnight journey tucked into our comfy sleeper berths on the Reunification Express.

The train station waiting area filled with passengers and cigarette smoke as we waited for the North-South train to come rolling in, and we anticipated crawling into our bunks soon after boarding at 10:30.  The crowd at the station was made up of local families and foreign travelers carrying giant backpacks. A loud horn blast from the approaching train prompted an exodus to the platform where we lined up by coach number.  After a quick and easy boarding process, we found ourselves in the first sleeping berth in coach number six, which contained an upper and lower bunk on each side and a window in the middle draped by a heavy cloth curtain.  The walls were simple plywood construction finished with light brown stain and heavy varnish, and the narrow section of wood-planked floor between the bunks was painted blue with a dingy patina from years of wear by the shoes of travelers.  We stowed our gear, and Joseph and Deveny climbed into the top bunks while Deena and I settled into the beds on the bottom—we were off into the night heading south for fourteen hours on the Reunification Express.

Once we were snug in our beds and the train had built up speed, we quickly realized that we had been spoiled by those sleek European trains, and that fourteen hours might seem more like forty.  The old cars rumbled and bounced down the rails with the wheels screeching around the curves while Deena and I shook in our bunks like a pair of dice in the hand of a furtive gambler hoping to roll a lucky seven.  Through the aid of modern pharmaceuticals, we were able to sleep intermittently between violent instances of potential derailments, but it was a long night, and we were glad to see the rays of the sun peeking through the folds of the heavy curtain in the early morning.  The kids managed to sleep through the night and most of the morning like they were swaying in hammocks by the seashore; so Deena and I left them to their slumber while we set off to explore the train in search of food.  We found the dining car all the way at the front of the train after a fifteen-minute expedition which had us bouncing off the walls and other passengers, but we were rewarded with excellent omelet sandwiches and strong black coffee.  

We spent the rest of the morning sitting in our bunks looking at the beauty of the Vietnamese countryside as we passed huge groves of banana trees, rice fields bright green with waist high growth, and thick jungle cut through with narrow streams choked with the pink blooms of water lilies.  The Reunification Express slowed down as we entered the mountain range close to Da Nang, and the back-and-forth motion of the cars eased into a soothing undulation, which helped calm our nerves as the train continued down the track on a tight passageway which skirted the sides of the mountains.  The scenery changed from the wild beauty of the jungle to sweeping views of the blue green waters of the South China Sea crashing against the brown-streaked limestone boulders at the base of the mountains.  We gathered our things as the train finally pulled into the train station at Da Nang, and we stepped off the train into the open-air station, and felt the warm humid breeze of central Vietnam. Almost immediately, we saw a “Welcome Deena” sign.  Our homestay owner had arranged for a driver to meet us at the station—a welcome gesture indeed. We stared out of the car windows during the thirty-minute drive to Hoi An taking in the sights of our new surroundings.

View from the Reunification Express window

The owner of the Thinh Vuong Homestay greeted us at the road with a big smile, showed us around his beautiful property, and gave us the choice of two big rooms.  We opted for the chamber with the dark-stained colonial French doors opening to a large balcony with a view of the red tiled roofs of the houses along the street between the swaying trunks and green fronds of palm trees.  We stowed our gear and walked down the road to a small restaurant and had a light lunch of chicken and rice with an excellent salad full of ripe tomatoes and crisp cucumber slices.  We returned to the homestay, and while the rest of my crew went back to the rom for a nap, I walked across the street to a small barbershop I had spotted earlier.  

Deena has been giving me haircuts every few weeks, but our recent tighter living quarters and lack of brooms has made my grooming ritual more difficult to perform, so I decided to splurge on a Vietnamese coiffure.  The barber was giving a customer a weird eyelid treatment, and he motioned me to a pink plastic chair with an amused smile.  When it was my turn, he showed me pictures of western haircuts on his phone, and after I selected an image portraying a tight buzz, he grabbed his clippers and went to work while I watched chickens scratch in the dirt behind his shop through the open screened door.  This guy was good, and he soon had me looking fly and indicated through hand gestures and broken English that he would throw in a shave if I was so inclined, and I nodded my head enthusiastically in the affirmative.  He prepped my two-day-old whiskers with a brush full of thin lather, and as he approached my face with a gleaming straight razor, I hoped all hard feelings about the war were a thing of the past.  The barber gave me a meticulous shave and massaged my face with a spiced rum-scented astringent leaving my travel-worn face feeling clean and tight.  I paid him and left the small shop already planning a visit for one more shave before we leave Hoi An.

After long naps, we got ourselves together and boarded a taxi for downtown Hoi An in to get our bearings for the week and to find something to eat for dinner.  The historic district of Hoi An is popular with travelers for its unique blend of Vietnamese, Chinese, and French architecture, world class cuisine, and inexpensive, custom tailored clothing.  By the time we got there, the streets were full of vendors and tourists, and we quickly found an inexpensive restaurant that served us an an amazing dinner of cau lau, which is a local favorite dish that consists of sliced pork and egg noodles in a thick broth with fresh herbs.  We had sides of shrimp dumplings, crispy fritters with hot chili sauce, and deep-fried chicken and cabbage-filled spring rolls. After dinner we all agreed that the decision to spend seven days in this town was a good one.  The weather-stained ocher walls of the village buildings were dimly lit by colorful lanterns strung up all along the streets, and we finished our day strolling slowly along with the crowds thankful for our ride south on the Reunification Express.

Hoi An