We left the hotel early and were driven in airconditioned comfort into the decidedly less cosmopolitan district 7 to visit the Cu Chi Tunnels.
With the sound of gun shots ringing out in the background, we traced the exhibits through the trees, learning about the Viet Cong. We learnt about the boobie traps set by the viet cong, gory contraptions with no other purpose than to maim or kill.
K tried her hand at slipping through one of the hundreds of secreted
entrances. Alas she declared defeat before a single bullet was fired.
And frankly, if she couldn't get her skinny ass down there, I certainly
wasn't going to chance it.
But soon it was my turn. Girding myself, we sank down into the cold
clay earth and crawled through 20 metres of cold, damp wet, claustrophic
nightmare. At the first chance, we escaped - thanking our attendant and
gasping for breath our hearts pounding.
You have to tell yourself not to panic. Breathe normally and know that
within a few minutes you will be out in the sunlight and the air again.
I've been told that the tunnels have been widened to make room for the
average western tourist. The mind boggles.
At the end of it we climbed back into our comfortable Toyota Fortuna and were returned unharmed to our hotel. Every day here, I am reminded how lucky I am to have been born into the family I was, at the time I was - in perfect safety and comfort every day of my life.
We returned to the hotel dusty and sweaty and decided a dip in the pool would wash away the morning's exertions.
We sat down to a frankly lavish lunch at Lemongrass, the restaurant in the hotel.
Dinner was at the Refinery, a french inspired Bistro.