We were up in time for breakfast, much to Lyn's surprise, and the we retraced our steps into town. A cyclo driver came with us for part of the way, because Mikey started chatting to him. Actually, they are all very clever and suck you into a conversation, asking innocuous questions like your name or where you're from, then they show you pictures of their family or try to shake your hand, which it's just rude to refuse. Then it's almost impossible to shake them off, and even when we went into a bank to get some US dollars, he was waiting. When we came out he followed us again, blithely heading the wrong way through the traffic, ingoring any sort of danger and even helping me cross the road once. He eventually realised we weren't going to give him any money right now and cycled off.

At the photo shop I picked up my pictures (a little over-exposed, unfortunately, which might be the printing or it might have been the extreme brightness of the sun on the days they were taken) and Mikey spotted a man getting some enlargements of the most incredible pictures we'd ever seen. One of them was sun setting over some sand dunes full of sheep, and if I could take a single picture like that I'd never take another one. It was glorious, and I went over to talk to the guy whose English stopped at 'Vietnam'. Then he wanted to see mine, and I left the shop hurriedly, in shame!

We then had a quick lunch in the same place as yesterday (I went to chat to the terrapins and moray eels in the tanks, reassuring them that they would not die for me - no shells and an insistence on two to four legs are some of my food rules - but was disappointed that I couldn't see the snakes from the menu). We walked past more school children and even toddlers on mopeds who all called 'hello' and giggled again at our responses, and then we were at the War Remnants museum.

It was laid out strangely and we had a bit of trouble following events. We managed to make a bit of sense of the timeline which involved the French, the Communists in the North, the anti-Communists in the South, the Americans helping the South fight the North and finally give up and the reunification of the entire country when the North finally beat the South. I'm still not entirely sure why the Americans got involved, but the displays of photos by journalists, most of whom were killed during the war, were very moving. Henri Huet's in particularly were incredible. There was a wall of pictures remembering all the photographers and journalists, from twelve countries, who died bringing pictures to the rest of the world. Some of them were slightly wibbly round the edges and the captions read that this was the last picture the photographer ever took and was taken from his body and developed. It made it all a little more real than I'd previously felt.

Afterwards there was a very bad-quality film about the effects that Agent Orange, dioxin and the other poisons that the Americans dropped onto the country has had on veterans of the war and their children, and a lot of pictures of hideous deformaties. It was quite one-sided in its declaration that the South Vietnamese were merely peasants, and that the US targetted civilians, but I really don't know how much of that is true. The next rooms in the museum made that sound increasingly likely.

After we'd seen the planes in the grounds, and the bombs and the rockets and the tanks all over the place, there was a room that showed photos of massacres, whole villages wiped out, children lying on muddy roads with their throats cut or bullet holes in their heads. There were horrible pictures of American soldiers grinning and holding up heads they'd cut off, and captions saying that the Americans were urged to believe that the Vietnamese were not actually human and that they deserved all they got, coupled with a few lines from the American Constitution. Photographers were quoted as saying that they had to stop Americans from shooting villagers so that they could take the photos, and then once they turned away they heard shots and they didn't look back. There were pictures of people burning with napalm, the deformities the chemical weapons are causing even now, and the appalling state that bodies were found in. The whole thing was sickening, and I have no idea how much of it is true. I'm not actually sure I want to know.

Just before we were chucked out when they closed the museum, we had a look at the 'tiger cages', tiny cells that the South Vietnamese used to hold Northern prisoners of war. There was a display of photos of people being tortured and cases showing the impliments used and descriptions, but I managed to avoid most of that. I was actually quite glad to get out, but at least I know a bit more about the country's history now.

A little subdued, we hit the town at rush hour again, and had to use most of our concentration to cross roads. No-one had to help us this evening - I think our fear thresholds might be raising! We stopped at a street stall for a baguette and cheese (and carrot and onion and something else) and managed to make ourselves understood (I've realised that although I can now say two things in Vietnamese, which is a ridiculously difficult language, my French is far superior). I also bought a whole pomelo, and asked the lady to peel it for me, and a dragonfruit. This is a big, bright pink thing with green and pink leaves growing from it, which has gorgeous white flesh with black pips inside, that tastes like a kiwi fruit. We ate our picnic in our room, watched some CNN news (I'm months behind) and set the alarm for early again, as we're off to see some tunnels and a temple in the morning.