Fresh from the aforementioned act of kindness the night before, we prepared to leave Son La for Dien Bien Phu, thinking that Son La may actually be the most friendly place on earth. Our fellow-karaoke singers, the lady in the pho restaurant and even the ladies in the hotel had all been extremely generous and friendly, leaving a distinct impression; it's always nice to leave a town feeling that you've seen the best of its people.
Before we left, however, a visit to Son La's former prison was in order. The prison had been opened by the French colonial government in 1908 and was a rather small affair, quite like a regular prison. However, due to Son La's position in Vietnam (relatively remote at that time but within striking distance of Hanoi, a revolutionary hot-bed), the prison soon expanded, being used to house political prisoners not deemed serious enough to be sent to the Con Dao Islands off Vietnam's south coast.
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| The entrance to the prison. |
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| The view from the guard tower. |
The prison gained a fearsome reputation throughout Vietnam and it was not hard to see why when walking around the place. Although much of the complex lies in ruins, the foundations still remain. The cells are extremely small and seemingly lack sanitation (though that could, of course, be a result of the ruin rather than how it was), whilst the underground cells, presumably for more serious political prisoners, were incredibly small, with only a small grille on the door giving interaction with the outside.
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| An underground cell. |
It appears that the French created exactly what they didn't want: a hive of indoctrination where the Viet Minh trained and educated its future members. In the museum area of the prison, pictures of prominent communists and inmates, including Truong Chinh (General Secretary of the Communist Party of Vietnam 1986), Le Duan (General Secretary of the Communist Party of Vietnam 1960-86), Nguyen Luong Bang (member of the Communist Central Committee), Van Tien Dung (military second-in-command after General Giap), Nguyen Co Thach (Vietnamese Foreign Minister 1980-91), Xuan Thuy (chief negotiator, Paris peace talks) and Tran Huy Lieu (Viet Minh leader) are proudly displayed. Ahead of my journey towards Dien Bien Phu, a place I have greatly looked forward to visiting for various reasons, I wondered how many of the Viet Minh fighters at that place had either been inmates at Son La or had been influenced by those who had. Today, the prison serves as a place for school trips and tourists; indeed, a school group of very young children arrived while I was there.
Dien Bien Phu now beckoned and, especially since I had wasted time going back to Mai Chau, I wanted to push things along. Simply put, the AH13 between Son La and Dien Bien Phu is a stunning road, especially resplendent in the sunlight which again graced our journey. We made good time, stopping only for air in our tyres, where a mechanic's wife tried to help us in her husband's temporary absence with amusing results (trying to pump up tyres without the compressor switched on, Westerners politely not saying anything until their tyres begin to deflate).
On the road between Tuan Giao and Dien Bien Phu, however, a truly marvellous befell Shawn and I. We paused to take some photos from a bridge and, having taken my photo, I shot off, believing that Shawn was some way ahead of me. After swerving around a water buffalo about three miles down the road, Shawn pulled up beside me:
"We've been invited to a wedding!"
"Really?"
"Yes, they're very keen for us to go. Come on!"
With that, we duly turned around and went back to the bridge. I had noticed a party going on there, but had not realised its nature. We parked the bikes and walked down the slope to the party, where it became clear immediately that this was a White Thai wedding (the hairstyles and dress of the women being a giveaway). A couple of men ran up to us, welcoming us to the party and imploring us to sit at a table heavy with food. Slightly embarrassed, since everyone was now watching us, we sat. The obligatory rice wine glasses appeared and the toasts were raised enthusiastically, before one of the men started serving the food into our bowls. As we ate (under the firm gaze of our chaperones, who kept filling our bowls at every pause), various men from the party came to us, introduced themselves and insisted on a toast. After this happened for the tenth time, I started to worry for our prospects that day...
The rice wine flowed, our bowls never became empty and we were everyone's best friend. Numerous men told us things we didn't really understand, the older women smiled graciously, the younger women smiled coyly and the younger men cajoled each other into coming to speak to us. As the electro music pounded and my head became mistier, the happy couple appeared to thank us for coming to their reception. The bride looked lovely in a traditional dress, the groom had clearly had a skinful and they asked us to take a photo, which we duly did.
The day was wearing on and, as much as I was enjoying myself, I didn't want to fail to reach Dien Bien Phu for a second day in a row, so I had to politely refuse offers of accommodation and emphasise through sign language that I would have to stop drinking rice wine due to my motorcycle. Even this was met with understanding and grace, for one of the men who had been looking after us herded me over to another area, where tea and water were the order of the day: he was clearly trying to sober me up and he succeeded! I was again touched by the generosity and hospitality of the Vietnamese people, which has been manifest on a number of occasions. After being asked to take some photos, I went on my way.
From there, the road continued to amaze and so did the people, with groups of schoolchildren shouting, "Hello!" everywhere I rode and people waving or pipping their horns. Despite running over a child's football (it passed unscathed under me), the trip passed without incident, for the road is a fast, not-so-busy one, possessed of an excellent surface and stunning scenery. I entered Dien Bien Phu thoroughly content.
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