Lonely Planet

Seated on a veranda, shaded by longanand guava trees, are 70-year-old HoangVan Huan and his friend, Thanh Mai Phan.During the war years, both men workedon the railway for the North Vietnamesegovernment. Straight-backed andhandsome, with shiny white teeth,Mr Huan exudes a justifiable pride thathe helped see off the army of the mostpowerful nation on Earth. He tells me hisjob was to repair track and bridges afterthey had been shattered by US bombs. Hesays the railway was a vital part of the wareffort, carrying tanks and heavy weaponsto Vinh, one of the line’s major stations,from where they were transported alongthe Ho Chi Minh trail to the frontlines.‘We’d have one night to repair a wholebridge,’ says Mr Huan. ‘We’d hear the airraid sirens and than have to get away.’‘It was extremely dangerous,’ Mr Phanadds. ‘The line between life and deathwas very narrow.’I’m half-American and it’s strange tothink that these two old men were onceon the opposing side of a war in whichmembers of my own family took part, butthere seem to be no residual hard feelings.They wave farewell as I set off on the40-minute drive to Van Long.Vietnam has modernised rapidly inthe years since the war. Hanoi and Ho ChiMinh are huge, sometimes overwhelmingcities, but you don’t have to go far to findserenity and extraordinary beauty. VanLong Nature Reserve protects an areaof huge limestone cliffs that jut out oftranquil, lily-choked canals. The high,weathered ridges are cloaked withdark-green foliage that looks like thehabitat of some mythical creature.It’s not surprising that it was chosen asone of the locations for Kong: Skull Island.I’m paddled around its waterwaysby 63-year-old Nguyen Thi Thon, whodivides her day between working in herpaddy fields and giving boat rides totourists. She’s still wearing her anti-leechsocks after a morning tending the rice.Though she lives so close to the mainrailway, she tells me she’s never been on atrain. She says all her family is nearby and``````her work in the fields keeps her busy. Sheguides us deep into the reserve, where thecliffs climb jaggedly out of the wetlands.The water has carved tunnels inthe limestone and we drift into one,welcoming the darkness and silence. ‘Thecliffs seem beautiful even to me,’ she sayswith a sigh. ‘It makes me proud that peoplelike you come so far to see them.’That evening I catch the SE19 expresssouth from Ninh Binh. It’s my first night ona Vietnamese train and my overwhelmingimpression is of the jolting physicality ofthe journey. The train swerves and judders,bouncing me in the bunk. I wake withthe strange, but not unpleasant sensationof having been pummelled with a meattenderiser. Outside, it’s finally light: soupywaterways, bright sunshine and paddyfields announce our approach to Hue.Hue was the capital of Vietnam foralmost 150 years. Set along the banks ofthe Perfume River, it’s a hot, damp cityof imperial monuments and low-risebuildings, which still preserves a senseof grandeur and royal calm. At its heart,``````October 2017 Lonely Planet Traveller 63VIETNAM BY TRAIN