Yesterday we left early to visit My Son temple 40km away. It was nice cycling through the relatively quiet streets. We passed a butcher on a bicycle.
We had coffee and roast pork rolls with a bunch of farmers at 8am who were stridently discussing the weight and price of chickens. It was some discussion with the guys using the Vietnamese version of the f word and even the f your mother phrase. One farmer invited us over to his place to drink rice wine but 8am was a bit early for us.
We left the farmers and got to My Son temple before it was swamped by tourists. The ruins who built centuries ago by the Cham people who must have thought they were the ants pants until the neighbours invaded.
The site was bombed by the Americans during the war. We even saw genuine American bomb craters. Now the site is World Heritage protected. We were reassured that the Vietnamese take the protection of the site very seriously. Here is one of the vigilant guards keeping his eye on things.