In the midst of Pondy was a little green space, Bharathi Park. A walkway skirted the octagonal perimeter under shady trees past a children’s playground. Continue reading Puducherry’s Bharathi Park
I stumbled upon enormous churches, all of which seemed over sized for a town like Pondy. Perhaps in the days of French colonial rule, they needed them larger than the Hindu temples. Continue reading Puducherry churches
I roamed back and forth along streets designated as the French Quarter.
A French tourist staying at my homestay advised I look out for buildings with columns. Most of them were a bit of a disappointment, but at least one stood out as stylish. Continue reading Puducherry’s French Quarter
Once I passed over a canal that led to the Perfume River, I spied Tu Dam Pagoda. After a month in Vietnam, I was on pagoda overload and with three tourist buses outside, even more so. Continue reading The other Hue
This old town on the Thu Bon River was roughly half way between Saigon and Hanoi. The buildings were mostly yellow with white trimmings influenced by the Chinese and Japanese traders as well as French colonialists. Continue reading Yellow City – Hoi An
On Tran Hung Dao, the Dalat Cadasa Resort was made up of six houses once occupied by the French colonialists. The properties were turned into tourist accommodation and the best part was that it was possible to wander through each house and view some of the rooms without being a guest of the resort. Continue reading Dalat’s best kept secret
I’m not one for museums but decided to visit this one on the edge of Con Son, a ten minute walk away.
The museum was mainly about the incarceration and torture of the Vietnamese at the hands of the French colonial rulers followed by the U.S.A.’s puppet regime. I’d read a novel about a prisoner in the tiger cages but I don’t think the story was set in Vietnam. Still, I was curious to learn just what they looked like. Continue reading Con Dao’s Museum
I was headed to Ong Dung Beach, but on the way I was delayed by more reminders of the country’s repressive past. Continue reading An accidental reminder of Can Dao’s past
As I walked the tree-lined entrance to Hang Doung Cemetery, a heaviness pressed down on me. The site was lovingly maintained and the silence broken only by birds chirping, a rooster’s crow, an occasional dog barking or the wind through the trees. Continue reading Hang Duong Cemetery
I strolled the back streets on the first afternoon I arrived to discover this peaceful haven had a dark past. The island had been used as a prison for those who opposed French colonial rule; followed by the Vietnamese government against their own dissidents; and lastly by the U.S. Continue reading Prisons of Con Son