After a couple of hours of driving, we arrived at the Cao Dai temple.

Cao Dai is a wacky religion that encompasses—and attempts to combine—all of the major belief systems. You can read more about in on Wikipedia. The temple has a strange, Disney-esque quality to it. We all removed our shoes and went in to observe the noon mass, or whatever they call it. The hundreds of tourists who had packed the narrow gallery on the second level soon filtered out when they realized that the ceremony consists entirely of people sitting on the ground and bowing occasionally as soft music is sung and played. I personally expected a bit of a show to the tune of “Kung-fu Fighting.”

So, that was that, and I was happy to get back on the bus and head to our next destination, the Cu Chi tunnels.

A short way down the road, we stopped at an unremarkable little restaurant for what was undoubtedly the worst food I’ve had in Vietnam. Not that it was bad, just that the waterbuffalo (described as “beefsteak” on the menu) was pretty tough, even for a steak knife. But it was tastey, and I was hungry, having skipped breakfast.

As we were finishing up, another tour bus pulled in. Clearly the drivers have made some sort of arrangement with this restaurant for a kick-back, or free meals, or something.

We boarded up again and set off. I saw a lot of kilns devoted to brick making and snapped one un-blurry shot as we sped past.

The rest of the drive offered more opportunities to see local people getting around, fabulously conspicuous private homes, and even a traffic accident involving a van and a person on a bicycle (Yonna looked at the photo and assured me that the person on the bicycle must have been OK, or else none of the onlookers would have been smiling.)

We arrived at Cu Chi tunnels, paid our 70,000 dong and started our tour. The area is controlled by the Vietnamese government, and it is definately weird to have so many people in uniforms standing around (no guns though, so it’s not actually frightening).

I had not intended to take a tour like this. I really didn’t want to think about the war. It makes me a little sad that a whole country can be colored in a negative light based on the decisions of a handful of powerful people 40 years ago. But since I was here, in Cu Chi, I determined to make the best of it and enjoy the experience.

First, one of the guards demonstrated a small tunnel entrance, and how the cover was kept concealed by leaves even after being closed from the inside.

Then one of the members of our little tour group decided to give it a go. John and Jane were impressed. I’m pretty sure I could have gotten my foot through that opening.

Before heading to the 100-meter tunnel to test our claustrophobia resistance, we were given the opportunity to shoot guns. Minimum 10 bullets, at about $1.20/bullet and the choice of an AK-47 or M16. As much as I abhor guns, especially the ubiquitous scourge of the AK-47, the red-blooded American in me couldn’t resist the call of the gun range.

Yeah, it was pretty cool. And it was unbelievably loud.

Then we were off to the tunnel, which had been widened by 100% in order to accomodate tourists. There were three “emergency” exits, each 30 meters along the tunnel in case the tunnel proved too distressing I suppose.

I’d forgotten to bring my Lorezapam, but I didn’t think I’d have any trouble in a tunnel. I don’t get claustrophobic, and the idea of the tunnel didn’t bother me at all. So down I went.

Once inside, I had to struggle to take off my backpack, since it was smashed against the ceiling and getting hung up on areas of height transition. It was kinda cozy down there. Very warm and close, and dark. They had installed small lights, like those on the sides of isle seats in movie theaters, but they were spaced a long way apart.

I hadn’t anticipated the twists and turns. And I definately hadn’t anticipated how strenuous it is to move through a tiny tunnel, bent over double, fighting to get a good lungful of air, with your shoulderblades hitting the ceiling, effectively pinning you in place as you struggle to move forward.

The upshot is that when I saw the daylight coming in from the first exit, it didn’t take long for me to decide that it was time to bail. I joined the others who had decided not to go for it (for whatever reason) as we waited for the sturdier souls to emerge from the 100-meter hole. It took a lot longer than you’d imagine.

So our tour was done, and we had a two-hour ride back to Ho Chi Minh, arriving just in time for a massive traffic crunch.

At one point, a traffic light was out, and our column of buses and vans stood still for about 45 minutes, while the scooters slowly crept by on the right. (In my first post from HCM, I said something about scooters outnumbering cars by at least 5 to 1. After seeing peak traffic, I’d say it’s more like 100 to 1.)

But eventually I made it home for a 30-minute rest before Yonna and I met John and Jane for dinner.

Although three or four days have gone by (it’s hard to keep track), I haven’t transfered any of the photos from my camera to my computer. So that’s all for now.