All the Huế to Hội An

We travelled south on the train to visit the cultural heart of Vietnam, Huế. Our expectations for the overnight journey were low and flashbacks from my India train travel made me a little anxious.

We opted for the hard sleeper, and had no idea what, or who, lay in wait in our 6-berth sleeper cabin. But, we were pleasantly surprised by the neatness of the carriage and the politeness of our 'roomies' for the night, and tucked ourselves in on our clean bunks, nodding off to the monotonous sound of the train rolling over the tracks.

We awoke in 'South Vietnam', as the country's divide is still apparent in the people. They were instantly friendlier (and would get increasingly friendly as we made our way to Saigon) and there was a less aggressive feel to the traffic, the commerce and the day-to-day interactions we took part in. We breathed a sigh of relief and settled into Huế.

Previously Huế was the capital of Vietnam and where the Nguyen dynasty chose to build their imperial palace on instructions from their feng shui experts at the time. Huế thrives on culture, is full of history and awash with tragic memories. With this tantalising concoction mixed with the general, Vietnamese desire for chaos, it's an interesting place to pass through and a welcome break on the arduous journey from Hanoi to Hội An.

Over the next two days we explored the citadel and took a lazy boat up the river to visit the monster tombs of the emperors - a chance to gaze at a world of riches, opulence and massive egos!

We had designated ourselves a 'rest day' to help us beat travelling fatigue, and it just so happened that the Rugby World Cup was on, twice. But then the sky burst. Rain gushed down, water pushed its way through the quiet streets of the city and, in just minutes, we were surrounded by flood water. There was nothing left to do but drink beer with new friends (one of which went to the same infant school as me in Cumbria - small world), watch rugby and spectate as people waded, cycled and motorbiked through the new, muddy river that blasted through the street outside.

Thankfully, in Vietnam, we are all millionaires (£29.90 = 1million Dong), so our many hours in the bar came to just £8. As the hours past, the flood water rose and we had to wade through the

knee-deep river to get back to our hotel, passing by a wriggling snake (that made me walk considerably faster).

We went from flash floods to a bus journey with a solvent-sniffing driver, all within 12 hours in Vietnam. C'est la vie in South East Asia!

But the beauty/chaos balance was restored upon arriving in Hội An, with the sun shining down on the crumbling, Spanish-style backstreets. We were treated to a fairytale light show for full moon, known as the 'Hội An Legendary Night'. Flickering candles, cupped in delicate paper cases, lined the streets by the river, incense perfume wafted through the people-filled streets and lanterns hung from every bridge and tree branch.

We watched as people sent the floating candles into the gentle flow of the river to be carried away under the bewitching light of the full moon.

To reach the 30km stretch of beach nearby, we cycled past paddy fields and palm-fringed waterways, by thatched homes and families sat doing their daily chores of washing, fixing, building and cooking. The people in the villages of Vietnam are truly self reliant—growing, killing, and cooking their own meals is a daily way of life. And yes, I must tell you, that one of the staples of their diet, particularly during celebrations, is dog.

Like me, I'm sure you're reading this with a scrunched up face as you imagine your neighbours' poodle being served up, à la carte. Many rural communities in Vietnam have dogs lying around outside, not pets but reared like their cows and pigs. We also heard stories of people's pets going missing (and yes, some dogs and cats are domestic pets, they even have collars), as dog can fetch a lot of money in one of the special, dog meat restaurants.

While this filled me with horror at first, I soon softened as I realised this was just a way of life and, in many cases, survival and was no different to the Vietnamese than the pigs they roasted and the cows they turned into phở bò. What's more, Vietnam is the first Asian country I have visited where the streets weren't roamed and ruled by mal-nourished, disease-ridden dogs.

Still, there was no way we'd knowingly eat dog!

Cycling to the beaches was a breezy insight into rural life. The 'local beach', An Bang, was our favourite, with warm sea and white sands disappearing into the hot haze of the midday sun.

It was hard to leave.