Here is my reading list from our travels. I failed to record a few authors/titles that I read in Malaysia and Oz but otherwise the list is complete. I still pride myself as one of the few people on earth who has not read anything by Dan Brown nor a single book in the Harry Potter series. English titles are getting more and more scarce down here, so lets hope I can keep it that way.
1.Catch-22 Joseph Heller
2.Desolation Angels Jack Kerouac
3Yoga For People Who Don’t Have Time To Do It Geoffry Dyer
4Siddhartha Hermann Hess
5Memoirs of a Geisha Arthur Golden
6Fever Pitch! Nick Hornby
7Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky
8For Whom The Bell Tolls Ernest M. Hemmingway
9Red Harvest Daishel Hammet
10The Long Firm-Jake Arnott
11Men Without Women Ernest M. Hemmingway
12Brighten Rock Grahm Greene
13The Human Factor Grahm Greene
14How To Be Good Nick Hornby
15The Sun Also Rises Ernest M. Hemmingway
16La Bete Humaine Emile Zola
17The Last Of The Mohicans James Fennimore Cooper
18Slaughter House 5 Kurt Vannugert
19The Unbearable Lightness of Being Milan Kundera
20The Power of One Bryce Courtenay
21Tent of Miracles Jorge Amodo
22One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest Ken Kesey
23The Joke Milan Kundera
24The Pickwick Papers Charles Dickens
25How We Live Sherwin B. Nuland
26To Have and Have Not Ernest Hemmingway
27 Gabriella, Clove and Cinnemon Jorge Armado
28 Pastures of Heaven John Steinbeck
29 The Brothers Karamazov Fyodor Dostoyevsky
30 Laughable Loves Milan Kundera
31 Debits and Credits Rudyard Kipling
32 He Kills Coppers Jake Arnot
33. Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands Jorge Armado
34. Travels With Charley John Steinbeck
35. Autumn Of The Patriarch Gabriel Garcia Marquez
36. Winner Take Nothing Ernest Hemmingway
37. The Best of Road Dahl Road Dahl
38. Those Barren Leaves Aldous Huxley
39. The Winter of Our Discontent John Steinbeck
40. Tereza Batista: Home From The Wars Jorge Armado
41. Islands In The Stream Ernest Hemmingway
42. Treasure Island R.L. Stevenson
43. The Old Man And The Sea Ernest Hemmingway
44. Truecrime Jake Arnott
45. The Idiot Fyodor Dostoyvsky
46. Lullaby That dude who wrote FightClub
47. Steppenwolf Hermann Hesse
48. Shardik Adams
49. Watership Down Adams
50. The Red Pony John Steinbeck
51. Not Fade Away Jim Dodge
52. The Philanderer Stanley Kauffmann
53. Jailbird Kurt Vonnegut
54. The Client John Grisham
55. Barchester Towers Anthony Trollope
56. Tangi Witi Ihimaera
57. Whanu Witi Ihimaera
58. The Copper Beech Maeve Binchy
59. Thunder Road Ted Dawes
60. The Matriarch Witi Ihimaera
61. The Catcher in the Rye JD Salinger
62. You Shall KNow Our Velocity Dave Eggers
63. The Glass Key Dashiell Hammett
64. The Bell Iris Murdoch
65. The Torrent of Spring Ernest Hemmingway
66. Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte
67. The Black Pharaoh Christian Jacq
68. The Glass Bead Game Herman Hesse
69. Scarlet Feather Maeve Binchy
70. The Best A Man Can Get John O'farrel
71. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil John Berendt
72. Narziss and Goldmund Hermann Hesse
73. Satanic Verses Salmon Rushdie
74. A Farewell to Arms Ernest Hemmingway
75. Vernon God Little ABC Pierce?
76. The Long Valley John Steinbeck
77. Stranger in a Strange Land Robert Heinlein
78. 1984 George Orwell
79. California Bloodstock John Mconnell
80. Daughter of Fortune Isabel Allende
81. The Bean Trees Barbara Kingsolver
82. Home is the Sailor Jorge Amado
83. The Group Mary McCarthy
84. The Alchemist Paulo Coehlo
85. This Side of BrightnessColum McCann
86. Anywhere But Here Mona Simpson
87. Das Boot Lothar-Gunther Buchheim
88. The Food of Love Anthony Capella
89. Farm Invasions in Zimbabwe Luke Zungar
90. Tuesdays With Morrie Mitch Albom
91. Warden Anthony Trollope
92. Mans Hope Andre Malraux
We left Nha Trang on a Tuesday morning. I was happy because before we hopped on the bus I was able to purchase some snack food at local prices-our breakfast and lunch cost me less than a dollar including some sweets! The ride out of Nha Trang was typical, through the rice paddies of agricultural Viet Nam. It was kind of sad to leave the coast line that we had been hugging for the last 20 days or so and I felt that a Dead show would be appropriate accompaniment (26Dec79, Dick’s Picks Vol 5). The road to Da Lat from Nha Trang is quite diverse, you leave the coastal mountains behind for the coastal plains and more rice paddies. Occasionally, the road abruptly juts out into the rice paddies to avoid some road construction (destruction?!?) activities. The path past the work and workers-although, I never saw anyone actually working, as if CalTrans had a contract in Viet Nam-was often more bumpy than if we just drove over the construction site. This was compounded by the bus driver’s knack for finding every crater of a pot hole. After a spell in the coastal plains the road turns up-literally-into the mountains of the central highlands. The road winds up switchbacks around terrifying hairpin turns-I could swear the back wheels would go off the road and we would tumble down the mountain-through dense jungle and eventually into beautiful pine forests. Eventually the forest and the road burst into the amazing French colonial villa of Da Lat. Divided sky the wind blows….*
Ahhhhhh! Da Lat. This city was founded by the French as a hill top station to get away from the heat of well-everywhere Viet Nam. The city is located in the central highlands, is surrounded by local ‘ethnic’ tribes (natives), and is oft referred to as Le Petite Paris. Our tour bus stopped at a new hotel-of course-where almost all of the western travelers jumped off and at the opportunity of a room for $6/night. Mo wanted to jump ship also but I was reluctant as the location was far from ideal-10-15 minute walk on hills to the city center-and because I am always weary of the Viet Nam open tour bus scheme to get westerners into certain hotels. Along with two other western couples we made the bus driver take us to the city center-to the Hoa Binh I & II (Peace Hotels) guesthouses. There we got a dank (and not in a good way) room for $5/night. The room was rustic but good sized with an extra bed-of course it was right next to the reception desk and was a bit loud but we arranged to move upstairs the next day. Mo and I wondered the streets checking out other hotel options-everywhere had damp, dank rooms so we accepted our situation back at the Hoa Binh. Cafes and the like were everywhere. Da Lat city center is situated on some hills and focuses on the war memorial dedicated to commemorate the re-unification of Da Lat in 1975. Near the monument is a huge bustling market with so many fresh vegetables, flowers, etc it could make your head spin. Street vendors too, waiting for you. As if it were my life I saw it. Maybe so and maybe not. The solar garlic starts to rot*.
Mo and I quickly arranged to take a tour of the city and the surrounding area with some “Easy Riders”. These guys give motor bike tours of Da Lat-you can even arrange a ride all the way to Ha Noi-and the surrounding area. While neither one reminded me of Peter Fonda or Jack Nicholson (more like Steve McQueen) they refer to themselves as Easy Riders-I think because of their smooth operation of the motorcycles. Needless to say they spoke good English (German too) and provided an insider tour of Viet Nam. We also arranged a 17K trek through an adventure tour company that specialized in trekking and mountain biking (Dalat Holidays).
The next morning after a breakfast of soy milk and Chinese doughnut-local specialty-we changed rooms to a spacious three-bed room on the top floor and met up with our Easy Riders. The tour was a blast as we went first to the ‘Crazy’ House (admission 5000 D) a guesthouse designed by a famous female Vietnamese architect who studied in Russia and is the daughter of a former Viet Nam president. The guesthouse is crazy with themed rooms straight out of Alice in Wonderland. It was pretty cool and worth the price of admission (in my opinion-contrary to ‘the book’ Lonely Planet or LP). Then we cruised into the countryside and stopped in some local farmer fields and got the scoop on Vietnamese agriculture from our guide-a former farmer who no longer could own a farm, he fought for the wrong side (American) in the civil war and in turn lost his right to own land (or something like that) and spent 2 years in re-education camp (ie. Prison). It turns out that farmers in Viet Nam are at the mercy of the market, there are no price supports, no government subsidies, nothing. Strictly supply and demand-so much for communism, eh? After the war farmers were not allowed to own their land and everything they grew went to the government for distribution (communism). However, the farmers quickly got tired of this and decided instead of working in the fields they would just go to the fields to socialize. Needless to say production plummeted and the government realized the only way the farmers would work was if they had vested interest-owning the land. So in the early 90’s the farms were given back to the farmers and now they work 12 hour days-of course there was still quite a bit of socializing in the fields we walked through.
We rode on to a meditation center with a beautiful temple and excellent gardens (so much Bonsai), coffee farms, chicken village-where Mo bought a cool Sarong-more temples, lunch, and finally back to Da Lat to check out the old train station. All in all it was a grand day. The weather was spectacular (26 C with big whispy clouds) and it felt good to be alive. Whatever you do, take care of your shoes!*
To celebrate we went to find some Bia Hoi after dinner. We stumbled into a local restaurant thinking they had Bia Hoi. The over head view is of me in a maze and you see what I’m hunting a few steps away. I take a wrong turn and I’m on the wrong path and the people all watching enjoy a good laugh. Embarrased with failure I try to reverse the tread I already traversed.* It was quite a scene, it was clear westerners NEVER came to this place so you can imagine their confusion when they determined Mo was not Vietnamese. The confusion would only grow. They provide us with menus and I am asking for beer but they don’t understand why I don’t want food (it is a restaurant after all). Phrase books are not working and confusion grows. Locals smile and say hello and laugh at the scene before turning back to their food and conversation. Finally, I decide to point at the pitcher of beer on a table next to us and ask how much? The waitress, frustrated and confused informs me 9000 D after realizing we are not ordering food. I figure ‘sure, 9000 D for about 2 liters is about right’ bring it on! The waitress goes off to get our beer and comes back with two bottles of Tiger. I shake my head ‘no’ and point to the pitcher of ‘beer’. She finally gives in and goes to get us a pitcher. Everyone is watching us now and I sense something is very very wrong. The waitress brings our pitcher and I am beginning to sense the problem. Mo asks for glasses and I realize what a blunder we have made. The pitcher contains ice tea, not bia hoi. Damn! 2 liters of tea for 9000 D-usually free with a meal. I am red with embarrassment and anger, Mo is red with humor at our situation. I try to relax and enjoy my tea but I am just embarrassed for us and the waitress. We finish 2 liters of tea and quietly-as quietly as a big nosed round eye can slip out the door- make our way out, paying the 9000 D on the fly.
We wonder a little further down the street and come across a real bia hoi place where 2 liters costs-of course- 9000 D. Mo and I grab our glasses and have a good chuckle about the mistake. Eventually some locals engage us in conversation and before I know it they are inviting us back to their house for Bun Bo Hue. Mo and I are keenly aware that these gentlemen are probably a bit tipsy and that their wives would not take kindly to them dragging home two foreigners for Bun Bo Hue at 10pm. So we discretely excuse ourselves and slip off into the night back to our hotel. We have 17 K to hike the next morning.
Morning in Da Lat is like a breath of fresh air. Mountain air, cool and clean, crisp and moist. Refreshing. We meet up with our tour guide, ‘Charlie’ and hop in a jeep to take us to the trail head. Charlie is a member of the ethnic minority (Champa) studying in Da Lat. Charlie is obviously very intelligent-he has a BS in English and is studying law-despite his humble ethnic minority background. He also enjoys trekking-definitely not a trait of many Vietnamese-these people would take a motor scooter to go 20 M. Charlie leads us on a trail past some water falls and into some back country farmland that is cut into the mountainside in beautiful terraces. We march through pine forest and jungle and Charlie provides information on local vegetation, farming, and wildlife (note: woodpeckers are woodpeckers the world over). The pine trees are scarred with axe marks and Charlie explains that people come and collect the sap to use as an adhesive and or to polish and seal wood furniture. Charlie explains that the government recently decided it would be against the law to do this but there was no good way to enforce the law. So what do they do? The government makes it the responsibility of the local farmers to report poachers (of course, the local farmers are the ones harvesting the sap) if they don’t then they can go to jail! Basically, the way I understood-it was a way for the government to collect money from the farmers and keep them in their place.
We hike up to a peak (about 2000M altitude) and take a break for lunch. Mo and I talk to Charlie about his family and studies. It turns out Charlie’s father was no slouch either-he worked in the government for years but got sick of the corruption and sitting behind a desk so he quit and became a farmer. Charlie decided he wanted to become a politician and hence the study of law, however he was having second thoughts and really enjoyed being a tour guide. He explained that he can not travel outside Viet Nam (it is difficult for Vietnamese to obtain travel documents) but that by being a tour guide he was able to meet many foreigners and gain experience and knowledge not available to most Vietnamese. Like I said, Charlie was a sharp kid. Anyway, we continue the trek down the steep mountain-no wonder Vietnamese don’t like to trek the trails are cut without switchbacks and we went down at least a 40 degree angle! We came to river and walked along the river for a spell coming past some rather old and worn suspension bridges. We climbed out on one (see pictures) but did not cross. Instead we went back up hill until we came to tiger falls. These falls were more impressive than the ones we saw with the Easy Riders (did I forget to mention? Forget to mention the water falls with the Easy Riders? Hey, look over there, dry ice factory. Looks like a good place to get some thinking done. I’m checking it out!*). Of course, as Da Lat is quite kitsch, so there were all these cheesy sculptures and the like (again see pictures of Mo in Tiger’s mouth). Pretty much this is where the hike ended and we got a ride back to town in the jeep. Our final day in Da Lat was spent lounging around and hiking around. We discovered little nooks and crannies (another Bia Hoi joint) and generally passed the day in relaxing fashion, sure to enjoy the cool temperature before heading on to Ho Chi Minh City. The key to travel you see is to surrender to the flow.*
Which brings this blog to HCMC a.k.a Sai Gon (really HCMC is a city divided into 16 districts and Sai Gon is district 1). The bus ride in was rather uneventful (thank goodness) and we arrived in district 1 at about 3pm. Mo and I grabbed some information about Mekong Delta and Phnom Penh trips and jumped a cab to our friend’s family house. We arranged to stay with my friend Joanne Tran’s (Hi Jo!) family in HCMC. Joanne’s sisters family’s ‘old’ house is out in district 11 near district 5 (Cholon or Chinatown). We got to the old house in no time and were greeted by Joanne’s sister and nephew ‘Johnny’. We did not stay put long, instead we took a ride to the new house in district 5 where we are currently staying (Joanne, I have many pictures of your sisters and their families, your uncle, the new house, the shop etc. that I will send to you when I get to Bangkok in mid-June). Let me just say that Joanne’s family has been the greatest. It is so nice to stay in a real home with a real family. To take dinner with the family and relax! What a break from the constant travel. Despite the difficulties of communication (Johnny is lead translator and Mo and Joanne’s sister can somewhat communicate in Chinese-different dialects) the family has been so kind! The first day we rode bicycles to district 1 to arrange forward travel on the Mekong and into Cambodia. We also needed to go to the bank and explore HCMC. It became quite apparent that bicycles were stressful and tiresome and that we were going to need another form of transport. Anyway, that evening Johnny and Joanne’s sister take us out to dinner around for a cruise around HCMC district 1 on a Sunday night. For those of you who have never been, HCMC on Sunday night is a giant motor-scooter cruise fest. Everyone dresses up and cruises the town in cliques. It was quite interesting to see, especially with the fantastically beautiful night time Sai Gon lit up in full glory. What a city! The first Vietnamese city we have been in that doesn’t completely (or almost completely) close down at 1030pm. It is Chic! It is awesome, noisy, bright, busy! Beep! Beep!
At the end of the evening we cruise over to Joanne’s other sister’s home in HCMC. At this point, after some discussion, it is decided that I will learn to motor-scoot Mo and I around town for the next day. Johnny begins the lesson immediately as I am now driving us around Cholon on Sunday night.
All through Viet Nam Mo and I have had opportunity to rent motor-scooters in remote areas where they would have been useful (Lang Co comes to mind, instead we hopped local buses which are probably more dangerous) and passed. Mo was a bit concerned me thinks. Then, we get to HCMC, home to 5 million motor scooters, countless bicycles and cyclos, weird three wheeled motorized bikes, cars and buses, and it is decided here is where I will learn the nuances of asian city driving! WTF!?! I was a bit nervous to start but soon I realized, no one is moving fast enough to get hurt so just relax and enjoy the ride. You learn quickly that two beeps of the horn mean either you want to pass or are about to be passed. That red lights only mean stop if you are going forward (left and rights are okay against a red!?!?). Traffic circles mean don’t stop-always keep moving-but yield when appropriate (note: there are no traffic signals at the traffic circles (Kendra-you know what a traffic circle is don’t you? You know, a round-about? LOL!)) The main thing to learn is: if you have a big nose, pale skin and round eyes DO NOT make eye contact with a policeman for all the money in your wallet ‘cause that is what he will want and will get. Otherwise, shooting the gap and swerving around pedestrians is like a game. Woo Hoo!
So yesterday I cruised Mo and I all over Sai Gon and it was a blast. Reunification Palace. The market. Mo got a haircut. The post office. Sai Gon square. Good times. Of course on the ride back to Cholon we get caught in a thunderstorm (it is the wet season after all). That was not as fun as the drops of rain sting on the face and eyes. But we made it! Dinner with the family was great and I could not help but remember all the times Joanne has cooked for me and here I am in HCMC Viet Nam with Joanne’s sister cooking for me. Same, same but different! Still good food, still good company, just 13000 miles in-between. I would like to say thank you again to Joanne and her family for letting us stay with them it has been a great time. Tomorrow morning we are on our way to the Mekong Delta (Cantho and Choc Dau and points in-between) and then on to Cambodia but we have enjoyed our time spectacular Viet Nam, the jewel of the orient for a reason.
*Note: certain sections of this text have been dedicated to Phish who recently announced that they are ending their 21 year ride this summer. Boy. Man. God. Shit!
So we made it to the city of Hoi An, the Vietnamese city of cloth. Hoi An is famous for its architecture and having at least 100 tailors all of whom are vying for your business. This is good if you want to have some good cheap clothes made to fit, this is bad if you are the ‘clothes horse’ that I am and just want to be left alone. Hoi An also happens to be close to My Son (me son) Champa ruins that date back to the 7th century AD. And a pleasant beach just 4 K from the city center. Mo had some clothes tailor made, we explored the old town for an afternoon-where we stumbled into a pleasant Bia H’oi joint-we spent a morning visiting My Son, and the last day we visited the beach. The beach was quite pleasant and we took the opportunity to ride our bikes through the local villages.
For me though, Hoi An will always be the image of this poor dog we saw after knocking back a few B’ia H’ois. In Viet Nam there is only one breed of dog and that is mutt. This wretched creature we stumbled upon was no pet, not even a meal, but it was a mutt if it was anything. It was white, well, white and pink where the curly white fur had fallen out to expose the dogs scabby skin. The must was skinny and shook like a crack addict in detox. All this was compounded by the fact that the dog had been placed on top of a refrigerator from which it was afraid to fall. The beast just sat there shaking and barking this weak throaty bark. What a miserable site. Otherwise, Hoi An was a beautiful place, really, but after 3 days we split for the beaches North of Nha Trang.
We left Hoi An at night, 6pm, via an ‘open tour’ bus. Now, many people are afraid to take night buses in Viet Nam, in fact most guidebooks advise against it. This would not be my first bus experience in Viet Nam and I was prepared for the overtaking of vehicles in the face of on-coming traffic only to swerve at the last moment to avoid a head-on collision, the incessant honking, and the bounce of the rough two-lane highway beneath me. I was shocked that the bus was full especially when you consider this is the off-season. Oh well!?! Mo and I settled into our seats on the bus-king George our Italian friend was also on the bus-and prepared for the journey. As we sped along the highway I was amazed at the different sounds the driver was able to evoke from the horn. I’ve already mentioned that while driving in Viet Nam the horn is obligatory to signal everything, but it was on this 12 hour bus ride that I realized the nuances-indeed the language- of the horn in Vietnamese driving. I sat there taking mental notes of the different tones and beeps the driver created and what these sounds were meant to signal. I was part anthropologist, part linguist. It was fascinating: one long, deep plow of the horn means ‘get the hell out of the way’ and or ‘I am NOT yielding’. Two quick beeps were a sort of ‘hey, how do you do, I’m right behind you’. Three quick beeps were equivalent to ‘I am over-taking your arse despite the on-coming traffic so get over and slow down’. On blind turns the driver would give 2-3 medium length toots to let any on-coming traffic know there is a bus coming and it is using both lanes. These are just a few examples of the language and art of Vietnamese horn blowing. In the mean time, I decided to calm my nerves by listening to some jazz-Freddie Hub’s Red Clay followed by The Straight Life and some MMW. All the while I was trying not to look at the road or the driving, I tried instead to distort my vision, bending the on-coming lights into reflections and tones of light similar to a live music performance. It was just like being at a show-people talking loudly above the music as if Freddie Hub wasn’t pouring his heart and sole into his trumpet solos, I wanted to sush them but I remembered my present shared-circumstances and let the voices meld into the background.
This was no ordinary bus, no, it was an air con bus, as in, there is AIR in the bus as a CONDITION of the earth’s atmosphere. It was boiling hot on the bus, air-con was a crock, no-the bus was a cock-a crock pot-and we were the stew that cooked inside a steamy wet broth. Ugh!!! The windows had to be closed as the rain began to fall. I looked out the front of the bus; well at least I tried. The windshield wipers barely worked, they certainly would not keep time for Janis and Bobby McGee, and New Orleans in the dead of summer would have been less humid. And the bus goes on. I put on some Johnny Cash and I am certain that Merle Haggard is driving the bus-not just an in-mate at Folsom. Later I grab a dew moments of sleep before the bus stops and Mo and I get off, in the middle of no where. Everyone else stays on and looks at us in shock and disbelief in the 5am sun unloading our bags. We had asked to be let off at the road to Jungle Beach 50 K north of Nha Trang and the driver was obliging us.
Getting to Jungle Beach resort was going to be a challenge I could see this right off. The sign said 16 K from the road, the locals said 25 K! I figured they were just telling me this so they could feel justified charging me 50000D for a lift on a motorcycle. Mo and I took some tea with the locals and bargained the cost of a ride with them. They were set on 50000D so we decide to strike off on foot. They finally agree to 30000 D and we are off like a bull with gas. It turns out to be at least 25 K on roads Mo and I would have been lost on and half way there I decide I will pay 50000 D. Our arrival at 0600 is a shock to the proprietor, a French-Canadian cat named Sylvio, and his family. We were not expected. But they greeted us with lemonade and a room. Jungle Beach resort was a pleasant stretch-3 K- of white sand beach at the base of some small mountains. The ocean water was warm and full of phosphorescence. It was hot and we lazed around enjoying the surf, shade, and hospitality of our hosts. It was quite pleasant (except for the jellyfish that stung poor Mo) and the only other people there, besides Sylvio’s family and staff was a couple from Australia. Due to the cost we were only able to spend one night before finding our way to Nha Trang and Mama Linh’s world famous boat tour.
Ha Noi, Ninh Binh, Hue, Lang Co
Hoi An, Jungle Beach,
Nha Trang, Da Lat, Ho Chi Minh
Passing etiquette, oh my!
oncoming traffic
who cares, just create three lanes!
Nothing to do, make haikus
watch the world go by
and smile, because you're alive
Translucent jellyfishes
like ocean fairies
crossed beauties with purple stings
Hue! No way! Hue! Does anyone know the way to Hue? Something about Vietnamese city names and english that brings out the unwitty word-play in my writing. The modern-ancient city of Hue. The geographical, cultural, and gastronomic center of Viet Nam. After a 12 hour train ride the first thing I wanted to do was grab a bite to eat but as any traveler knows, the first thing you do upon arrival to a new city is to seek out accomodation. We pushed through the hoards of cyclo-touts offering cheap rides to their hotel and worked our way towards guesthouse central of Hue. We found a nice clean room in a new hotel with aircon and satelite TV for $8/night and took it. On to the food. I have been on a pilgrimage for a Vietnamese dish (a type of beef noodle soup) called Bun Bo Hue-it is a speciality of the region. Finally, despite the heat (33C) I order my Bun Bo Hue and wash it down with a beer. YES!
After we ate we decided to rent some bicycles and check out the city center. The center of the ancient city of Hue was across the Perfume River (a mis-nomer if ever there was one) from our Guesthouse. We merged into the traffic and peddeled our little butts across on of three bridges connecting the city center to the rest of the city. The city center is surrounded by the ancient Citadel walls, within the walls is the Forbidden Purple City-home to the emperors of the Nguyen Dynasties-surrounded by a moat and more walls. The Forbidden city was virtually destroyed during the American-sponsered civil war, in fact, the ancient city of Hue was practically wiped off the river altogether during the Tet offensive of 1968 when the NVA held the city for 3 weeks before succombing to the South Vietnamese and American troops. The heavy fighting, described by most as door to door, street by street, left the walls of the ancient city and the moat standing and not much else. Hence, I call it the modern-ancient city, because the Vietnamese have re-built their homes and lives within the walls of this ancient city shell. Oh there are the nine cannons, the tallest flag pole in Viet Nam (at the Citidel gates where the NVA flag flew for all 3 weeks following Tet) and we saw them but it was the houses, the cafes, and billiard halls of these resilient people that I enjoyed as we rode around on those bikes. The faces of the people, all smiles, all forgiving-or at least wanting you to buy something- made the city feel peaceful and at ease with its history.
After biking around for a while we headed back to the hotel for a shower and out into the night. We dropped in at the cafe across the street and Mo had french-fries while I drank a Tiger beer (12000 Dohng ~$0.75 for 12 oz). Amy suggested we try the local bar down the street and although I was hungry and thought I should eat first, I figured why not there is a sandwich in every beer (right Paul?). We walk a block to this B'ia H'oi (pronounced be-uh-hoy) bar that is overflowing with Vietnamese men fresh off work (it is 1830). There are NO westerners and no tables available. The proprietor seeing our interest-and dollar signs on our forheads taboot-sat us down at a table with some locals who were happy to have us join them. The first thing I do is ask how much for a B'ia H'oi. The locals tell me 10000 D (~$0.66) for 2 liters but the proprietor quickly corrects them, for Westerners it is 12000 D. I don't care, 2 liters for $0.75, bring it on! Of course as it is about 30 C the beer is served with ice but what the hell? We engage in conversation with the locals and they turn out to speak good english, they are motorcycle taxi drivers for a near by hotel (a fancy smancy one at that as it turns out). The locals are cool and we order more beer. 2, 4, 6 liters it is going down nicely. The next thing I know, there is some grilled Bo (beef) done in Hue style sitting there and our new friends are encouraging us to eat. We dive in, everyone eating family style, laughing, talking. More beer. We do cheers (Jo! in Vietnamese) every minute. 8, 10, 12 liters of beer. We play cards, the Vietnamese game Mo and I learned at Halong Bay, and order more food. This time it is Muc Xao (pronounced Muck sh-owe of course there are tones!!!!) or stir fried squid and it is grubbing. Best squid I have ever had, up till that point, it gets better later. Anyway, we are winding down and our friends are insistant on paying but the bill comes to me of course. 93000 D (~$6) and once I make sure it checks out with our friends I pay-with them protesting. We arrange to meet again the next night at 7pm and Mo and I split.
Back at our hotel we drop back in the cafe for a nightcap. We join a table of Brits who were recently in New Zealand working and Mo and I glean information from them on NZ. Of course some Germans and Brasilians and more Americans and Brits come in and we eventually go for the rice vodka-yep, rice vodka- and coke. Ohhhhhhhhh, curse thee rice liquors of SEAsia!!!! Thank goodness our hotel is across the ally and up one flight of stairs or i might not have made it home!
Bright and early the next day we scheduled for a boat tour on the Perfume River, 0800. I wake up at 0700 and go down for pancakes. I am oozing rice vodka and need more water. I drink bottles of water and feel as if I can not go on. But, Mo, not quite in the same state, and i suck it up and crawl our haggard arses on the motorcycle taxis to the river. Turns out to be quite an enjoyable trip up the river to a famous Pagoda and some ancient tombs. Of course, it was hot as heck and the tour lasted all day but we made the most of it.
Back at the hotel we shower and prepare for the evening's activities at the B'ia H'oi bar. I figure I'll just pop in for a quick 2 L and move on, besides, I am ravenous with hunger. We walk down to the bar and low and behold there is table waiting for us, our friends have brought more friends (all motor cycle taxi buddies) and we sit down to more food and beer (see pix). At least this time my hunger was satiated along with my thirst. We had another great night and managed to avoid the evil rice liquor!
Our last day in Hue we wondered around on foot-just happening past our new friends hotel. We stopped and talked and wished them well and bought them smokes as a sign of our gratitude ('Thanks! Here are some cancer sticks for your troubles) and at 2pm we jumped a bus headed for Hoi An.
Of course, we never made it to Hoi An, no we jumped off at Lang Co Beach and promptly found a hotel conviently located on the beach front ($8/night, down from $15). As it was hot and we wanted to see the beach, we immediately made for it. The beach was nice-for the most part. Clear water, nice sand with Bac Ma National forrest and mountains for a backdrop. Not bad ('cept for the power lines running the length of the beach). The water was warm and shallow and we swam as the kids played fotbol on the beach. After our swim we showered up and decided to go in search of a meal. No small task as it turns out. We ran into an Italian cat ('do you speak Italian' first words out of his mouth, second words, 'I didn't think so') who told us to walk South along the highway for food. We did and stumbled into a place with no menu. The proprietor was no help so we stumbled out. The next place we were greeted with smiles and there was a menu, in Vietnamese. Here we go. No prices listed. As we figure out what we are going to order (pointing mostly at the table next to us and using our phrase book) George aka Sasha the Italian walks up. He joins us and orders fish over rice. Nice. We chat with George who turns out to be quite the interesting cat. He is traveling by himself, left his wife at home-well, technically, she didn't want to come-and he is 73! The stories he reels off are classics of being in Laos and Cambodia. Amazing George. All the while, the grandmother at the restaurant has sat down with us-she doesn't understand much English-and is listening and smiling at our converstaion. She really like Mo and after a while invites Amy back to the house to view pictures. George and I continue to chat. What a great guy, from the North, the far North of Italy where they don't speak Italian, they speak a dialect. From the mountains of Italy. He is a trekker for sure and is out on a 6-month trek of a life time. 73 years old. Finally Mo comes back we settle the bill (~$3.50) and walk back towards our hotels. George thanks us for allowing him to join us for dinner and tells us he doesn't mind eating lunch alone but he is sad if he eats dinner alone. We agreed to meet again the next night for dinner at the same place.
The next day, Mo and I catch a local bus out to some springs about 15 clicks North on highway 1. To get to the springs you have to walk another 4 K. On our way a nice gentleman stops and offers us rides on his motorcycle but as we are 2 and don't mind the walk we decline. When we get to the springs he and his lady friend our waiting for us. Turns out, he works at the hotel (one week on, one week off) we are staying at and he becomes our psuedo-guide. We wonder another 200M up stream to a swell pool and spend the afternoon in the water and sun. A great time. On our way back to Lang Co we catch another local bus. It is supposed to be 5000 D to go the 15K. I talk to the driver and show him a 5000 D note and he agrees. No sooner do we get in the bus and go to pay does he show a 20000 D note. He says 20000 D each. I show him my 5000 D note and scold him 'no, you said 5000 D each'. He is trying to pull a fast one, if you have ever been to Vietnam you know the 5000 D and 20000 D notes are very similar. Finally he relents laughing hardily and I enjoy the laugh with him. I'm sure it has worked on foreigners before.
Back in Lang Co we have another swim in the ocean and join George for another meal. It was a great stop over on the way to Hoi An which we left for the next morning. Of course that is all for now. I apologize about the pictures, as you may have seen we finally have started adding some more. I changed the camera settings and the picture file sizes are too large and it is a slow process to upload in Viet Nam. I tried to compress some photos but it just screwed up the resolution. Tomorrow morning before everyone jumps on line, I should be able to get the rest of the pix up. In the mean time, take care and see you in Bangkok!
Tam Coc area, as Tyler mentioned already, is Vietnam's Halong Bay on rice paddies. It is also one of the poorest parts of Vietnam. Tam Coc actually means 3 Caves, and that's the major attraction there. The only way to see these caves is by boat. For 55,000d, you get entry into the 'park' along with a boat and guide/rower, which for us is a good thing seeing how we fared so poorly at kayaking a few days before.
The "guide" would have only been a guide if you spoke French. Since we don't speak much French, it was a pretty quiet, scenic ride down the little river, passing under bridges and very low overpasses so low that we all had to lay down to pass thru.
We had an extra passenger along for the boat ride. At first we thought grandma was coming along for the ride because she'd get dropped off somewhere that she needed to go. When she never got dropped off, we guessed she had nothing better to do but just come along to enjoy the day. But both those guesses were wrong. The rowers had this ambi-limberous ability to swtich back and forth between paddling with their arms and their legs. When their arms got tired, they'd just lean back, engage their stomach muscles, grasp the oars with their bare feet and start paddling away rhythmically. But even with the use of all limbs, the unforgiving sun and cigarette smoking got to the middle aged rower, so that's when grandma comes to the rescue! She takes over the oars while her son gets a little rest...and a chance to pull out the embroidery and pitch the sale.
We were stuck in the boat with them, so there was no escape from their sad looks of rejection when we didn't want to buy anything. To try to alleviate this uncomfortable situation, I pull out the Vietnamese phrase book and ask if 'grandma' is his grandmother. He nods yes. There really was not much conversing. Our pronunciation is no where close. It was more like gesturing and pointing at phrases in the book, but it worked. I found out that he is 47 years old, and grandma is 80 years old. Grandma is actually his maternal grandma. He is married and has 4 children. He asks how old we are and if we're married. I say no, but there was no word for boyfriend in the phrase book. So it was easier to say he's my fiance since that word was in there.
The situation becomes friendlier, and he starts pointing at things and teaching us the Vietnamese names for duck, tree, rock, etc. And we in turn teach him their names in English. At the end of the trip, we courteously say thank you in Vietnamese and good bye, and so do they. But before we leave, he says "tip". "Tip." We pull out all the money we have in our wallets, which wasn't a whole lot, less than 50 US cents. He then urges, "10 thousand dong", and nods. We don't have any more small change, otherwise we'd have to give him a 100,000d note, which is six or so US dollars, almost the cost of our hotel room. We say we're sorry and leave.
It doesn't matter that it's a communist country or capitalist country. When there are extreme differences with the haves and have-nots, and those have-nots struggle to make ends meet, those have-nots become very clever and entrepreneural. And those have-nots that are more capable share with other have-nots who aren't as able. Poorer people seem to be more generous in general. I've only seen one homeless person so far in all of Vietnam. There are people who beg, but there's always people here who give, even if they only have a little to give. Must be the buddhist culture.
We finally made it to Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum when it was open, to see his express wishes of cremation unfulfilled, so all can walk by and gawk at his body laying with his hands folded neatly one on top of the other.
A long single line of soldiers and other admirers wait patiently to get a look see. The big whigs and kindergardeners got to pass everyone to see the infamous man first. Then the rest of us viewers get to go. We file singly in thru the marble hall and up the stairs where the cool air con made the experience a little bit more pleasant or worthwhile because I didn't feel right looking at his dead face. I wanted to avert my gaze but couldn't. I felt bad for him, laying in that glass case with the amber "mood" lights focused on his face and hands, so it looked like he'd just recently passed. I'd have to say though that the Vietnamese did a better job with his preservation than the Chinese did with Mao, whose cosmetics made him look more like a waxy cheap whore than a national hero. Sorry, no cameras were allowed at either one, so you'll have to use your imagination or see it yourself.
Still in Ha Noi we make arrangements to visit Ha Long Bay for 3 days and 2 nights. Our departure was not until Saturday so we had a day to kill enjoying the great city of the North of Viet Nam.
Amy and I spend the day wondering about the city and make another unsuccessful trip to see Uncle Ho, I swear he’s never available. We buy tickets to an 8pm water puppets performance. After a rest and a tasty bite to eat in one of the old quarters tiny family owned restaurants where you sit in the proprietors home and eat, we make our way to the lakeside theatre. As it is the late show- 8pm is late in Viet Nam, I think the whole country goes to bed by 1030pm- there are no local kids in the crowd just adults who look like children in the proverbial candy store (a puppet theatre? Must be foreign tourists). The marionettes are wild dancing on the surface of the water. Golden yellow dragons spit fire, green, blue, red fish, brown ox all intricately painted move to traditional Vietnamese music. A folky music for a folky people. The show concludes with the grand finale, dancing fairies and the room is flaming and I think ‘ahhhhh what a show” and we file out satisfied.
Early morning departure for Ha Long Bay has us up at the crickity crack of dawn. First I stretch, meditate, and shower up clean. We take a 3 hour bus ride to Ha Long City. On the bus we get to know the other tourists. Siobahn has joined us on the trip (although her tardiness almost resulted in a ‘cancellation’). Other than Siobahn there is Greg, an American from Philadelphia (I never used my south Philly hanky in front of him), a Vietnamese couple from Sai Gon (Tuon and his wife) on their honeymoon. Two Canooks, Tuan who was born in Vietnam and is making his first return trip since he was 12and Claude from Montreal on extended holiday. Yves and Natalie from Paris (strangely enough, Tuan, Greg, and Natalie were traveling together). And two Israelis Nicole and Judy.
Finally we set sail on Ha Long Bay from Ha Long City and I am instantly struck by the natural (surreal) beauty of this place. Oh good lord the amazing places you created and let me travel to and see. Beautiful and majestic Ha Long Bay with thousands of rock island formations surrounded by emerald green waters. We sit on the top deck and soak it all in the sun the landscape and each other. It is a fantastic day to be alive and no better place to be living than right there. The mountain islands are cut with a diamond and covered with vegetation. We stop on one island and explore a cave. Three large caverns created over millions of millions of years.
That night we spend on the boat a rather unspectacular sunrise is followed by breakfast on the boat before we head out to explore some more. That morning we stop on Cat Ba Island for a hike to a remote fishing village. After a short break we take a hike to the top of one of the cliffs (270 M high). We climb through the jungle up an invisible trail to no where. Is there anything like trekking in the Jungle? The tropical Jungle is the loudest silence I have ever been surrounded by and it is hot, sticky hot with bugs and who knows what but we hike. The encroaches on the trail, and we encroach on the jungle. Hike fast to keep ahead of whatever will land on you, bite you etc. and I make it to the top with Claude, the first ones in our group to make it. And the view, the view IS spectacular. After lunch back in the village we set sail again, this time to go swimming and exploring the bay on kayaks. Amy and I fight each other in the Kayak, no rhythm for this white-boy, and I end up paddling to get us around. It is still awesome and enjoyable.
We spend the night on Cat Ba Island in the nicest hotel, for Amy and me thus far, in Vietnam. Fantastic Cat Ba Island with karaoke bars, massage girls, and internet access that could piss off the pope.
The next day we took the boat back to Ha Long City, a three hour ride I enjoyed from the top deck contemplating everything and nothing. What Communist state do I find myself in? What would Lenin say? Marx? Vietnam is as communist as America is purely capitalistic. They are the same, indeed, the Vietnamese prefer US dollars to Dongh. Dead presidents, Greenbacks, are popular with all travelers and are accepted anywhere and everywhere. Communism, so simple but with a fatal flaw, it is based on the weakest traits of human nature, compassion. Capitalism on the other hand, complex and market driven is based on the simplest and of course nastiest trait of human nature, greed fueled by desire. In the end, both systems resemble each other and become the same.
Back in Ha Noi we make arrangements (Siobahn, Amy, and I) to have dinner with Yves. We meet up and enjoy a good meal in each others company. Yves is an air traffic controller from Paris (as I mentioned) and he speaks excellent English but understands even more. He sits and listens to us kids with our stories of travel and smiles the smile of a person who knows. He is kind and genuine. His smile is the smile of a person who has lived a hundred lives of humility and has returned for this last go. Thank you Yves. We arrange again to meet early the next morning to catch the 0530 Ha Noi.
Like I said before the Vietnamese are early to bed and early risers. Everyone in the country-at least it seems that way- gets up at the crack of dawn to exercise before they start their day of toil. We walk along the lake where hundreds, thousands of people walk, do aerobics, lift weights, etc. I want to join one of the senior massage circles but I know better. We walk on to Lenin Park where the boys play futbol and there is T’ai C’hi and dance and badminton everywhere. All before 0630! “If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything at all” really means something to the Vietnamese. Is it their communist health care? I don’t know, I don’t care. It is great to see a non-sedentary people take to the streets en masse to exercise.
Also in the morning, around 0700 the propaganda starts, speakers announcing the local, country, and international news along with patriotic music and ‘public service announcements’ about love of country. Oh well, thanks big brother! We march on to Ho’s mausoleum and amazingly it is open. We wait in line with other foreigners, locals, children and military to file past Ho. The little yellow cat sits there all cool (literally) with his hair and beard finely combed. Of course, all this against his dieing wishes. We file past in silence, respectfully.
Now it is time to hop the train, 2nd class soft seat to Ninh Binh, 3 hour ride. It is pleasant as the countryside rolls by to the rhythm of the train. Beautiful green Viet Nam. In Ninh Binh we find an excellent hotel (now the best place we have stayed) for $5 a night and the receptionist, Mr. Cheong is very helpful. The next day we rent bikes and ride to Tam Coc via villages and rice paddies. Tam Coc is the Ha Long Bay without water and we enjoy a boat ride through the rice paddies (there is a river). We continue riding our bikes in the noon day sun (33 C) and I decide I want to climb the stairs to a temple in the hills (200 M). Amy doesn’t want to go because it is hot, hot. So I strike off alone. If you have ever been to the Great Wall o China, this climb was similar. Up Up Up! I climb quickly and when I get to the top I am rewarded with fantastic views of the surrounding countryside. I look out on Ninh Binh with a statue of the Buddha looking over my shoulder. Oh I shutter to think the thought I have thought. Like as I sit there I see the wind blowing across the rice paddies and it occurs to me that the waves look like little sperm swimming (hopelessly) for the egg to fertilize. Oh well, enough of that I hike back down to Amy who is waiting in a local woman’s home. We sit and chat a while and I clean up from the well water. The lady does not speak English but her son does a little and we talk about our age and family etc. Finally the old lady points to me, says, “Americans” and then says something in Vietnamese and acts like she is shooting a gun. I realize she is NVA (North Vietnamese Army). I smile and say sorry and I think she says the same. How many sons, husbands, sisters, cousins and friends she must have known who died. No hard feelings.
We hop back on our bikes and ride back to the hotel where Mr. Cheong cooks us a great feast. We book a train trip to Hue and spend the next day enjoying Ninh Binh. The train to Hue is a 12 hour ordeal but we have a soft sleeper with air con so it goes well. We meet some American girls, Princeton Tigers (Tigresses?) who are traveling for a spell before returning home to grad school or work. Nice Jersey girls still young with excitement of a life of work ahead of them. Idealists, concerned about friends and that future. It is a pleasant trip and it is good to finally be in the South. The city of Hue! Get me some noodles please, make mine Bun Bo Hue. More on that next time.
Harsh sea winds and rain, who'd have thought those forces can create such splendor and beauty? The limestone formations jut defiantly out of the bay creating the most photogenic landscape. And that is all I did that first morning on the top deck of the cruiser, contemplating breathlessly if I should take a picture or not since the changing scenery constantly yields one stunning shot after another amidst the waters of Halong Bay.
Legend has it that a great dragon lived in the mountains, and as it came toward the coast, its flailing tail gouged out valleys and crevasses. As it plounged back into the sea, those valleys filled with water, leaving only the high land visible.
The weather is temperate, the sun peaks out occasionally behind a layer of whispy clouds, warming everything in sight. Ha, our always joking and laughing tour guide, announces it's time for a swim! Our tour group of 14 or so gets changed. As Siobhan and I timidly contemplate the temperature of the water and whether we should go in, first in the water Claude from Quebec bravely jumps off the top deck. Woohoo! Next goes Tyler. Splash! It was infectious, and we all in turn jump into the salty sea. I loved swimming back and forth, feeling the water's cool and warm pockets of water.
Night falls and it's dinner time. Those of us that opted to sleep on the boat got dinner on the boat. The best was the pork stuffed squid - something new for my palate. No TV or dance clubs, what's a person to do stranded in the midst of nothing but water? Play cards of course! Claude teaches us his version of 'asshole' which included the rule about the loser giving the winner their 2 best cards. We play a couple of hands, and eventually we sink into the same roles as destined by luck and the give-up-your-2-best-cards rule. Ha the president. Claude the vice president. Me the lowly secretary. And Tyler the bitter, unhappy gopher. Eventually Tyler has enough, so he declares last game, and ironically he ends up winning that game. Ha teaches us a new card game, a Vietnamese game, and we enthusiastically embrace it. It's great! The first thing we do the next day is practice our new game. We ignore the fantastic scenery and take turns playing it.
Next stop - Cat Ba Island - hike to a fishing village - trek up steep 240m tall mountain to great view point - kayak around the bay - room at the Princes Hotel - Cat Ba night life - journey back to Ha Noi.
(Sorry, the guys sitting too close to me who keep randomly bursting into song and intrusively hovering over our terminals at this internet cafe is getting a bit much. So Tyler I'm sure will fill in the rest.)
"You know what I wanted? I wanted to come to Vietnam, the jewal of South East Asia, home to an ancient and cultured people...” Private Joker, Full Metal Jacket. Finally jumped a flight to Ha Noi, Viet Nam. What a city that Ha Noi! Hah! Noy! Hah! Hah! Hah! Noy! Noy! Noy! Upon arrival we hop the first mini-bus to town. “How much for the Old Quarter? 8 quarter, US? Swell.” And away we go down the rural road to the sleepy little city on the Red River. Oh and it is a pretty rural place green with rice paddies and elder ladies grazing their cattle. Fantastic! Superb! Shavon (a sweet dame from the UK we met in Bangkok) and Mo practice their Vietnamese from the phrase book whilst Andy, a cat we met on the flight (from the Uk as well) and I, take it all in. Then comes the Old Quarter.
Touts, touts, everywhere, and not a place to stay but where they take you. No thank you! I have a reservation. Oh the Old Quarter where the streets have four names and I’m lost in an instant not sure which way is up or down and it doesn’t matter ‘cause everything is upsidedown anyways. Shavon gets her bearings first and jumps to the lead. Bless her, she has been on the road for 23 months and has this arrival in a strange new city thing worked out. Oriented we find our way to the hotel but our reservation was not held, we can stay at a place around the corner and come back tomorrow. Shavon and Any can stay at a place a little further down. We view the pitiful room and take it for the night. Exhausted with travel fatigue.
After a rest we go down to Andy and Shavon’s place to go out for a wonder and gander and a bite to eat. They’ve landed in Paradise, the Paradise hotel a better place than us. We make immediate arrangements to move there the next day and walk off into the night. Cool crisp clean (relative to Bangkok) air of Ha Noi, thank you. And the streets are narrow and crowded with pretty Vietnamese mothers and their children and crafts. Scooters zoom around, the horn is an obligatory signal for everything. Oh Ha Noi! With trees and lights and smells so sweet. We wonder down to the lake indeed wonder around the lake where lovers take benches and show their love unabashedly. Past cafes full of expatriots and locals and the people, the Vietnamese are all smiles and welcoming. 35 years ago (and for long before that) my face was that of the enemy but there are no grudges, not even from the older generations. And the streets are alive anyway. And trees, I hadn’t noticed but Bangkok had no trees. Not so in Vietnam, trees line the streets and everything is all right. It is getting late for Ha Noi, and we duck into a little restaurant on the street level of a private residence. It is bright and a bit garrish (Andy’s words exactly) but it is clean and the cook, the matriarch, is willing to cook us dinner at 845pm. We order and make talk of the city and our travels and the food preparation happens three feet away. Lots of flames and smells delicious. Food is on and we fall silent with delightful noodles and beef. As we enjoy dinner I hear a few notes from a trumpet from down the road. Unmistakabley jazz phrases. We finish up and hustle off. Gam Urn.
Sure enough two doors down is a jazz club and they’re blowing some Sonny Rollins and we file in. The sax man is mad with vigor and it is clear he is the teacher. Two pupils on trumpet exchange solos and the sax is back on. Nicely backed by a young Vietnamese long hair drummer and a tiny Vietnamese girl on base. Where am I? Is this Ha Noi? Which way to Hah Noy? The beer is cold and the band is warming up. Mingus, Girl From Ipenema, and some Afro-Cuban jams. Great times. And it is 11 o’clock and it is time to go home. Back out into the cool air relief of Ha Noi. We walk right home with no troubles on quiet streets.
Morning creeps in and I realize I’m in a communist state. The 730am propoganda show is blaring in the streets. Shower and out to find some breakfast and a bank. We wonder around the Old Quarter, Mo and I, and it really is amazing. Dog meat, no thanks. Breakfast of soup. Breakfast of champions. The Vietnamese, who just don’t understand why you would want to walk anywhere. “Take the cyclo. Take taxi? No walk.” It is great and you can walk anywhere and we do. First back to the hotel to check out and check in down the street. Then to the bank and on to Uncle Ho’s house? Sure why not? Sorry, Uncle Ho is not available after 11am come back again. And we explore and walk everywhere. Hoa Lo prison the American GI’s “Hanoi Hilton”. Full of history of attrocities carried out by colonial French governments. We grab a cyclo for $1 US and we are back to the Old Quarter in no time flat. Happy Birthday to me. A celebratory meal and night of drinking is in order. And we drink in a local bar across the ally from our GuestHouse. There are two tables and one of the tables is full with locals drinking rocket fuel. We order beers and cram on in. Then I’m drinking rocket fuel with the locals and it is my birthday. “Where’s the bathroom? Down the hall? Great." And I walk in a hurry bursting at the seams to the toilet from hell or maybe India, some say it’s all one place. And it is at that moment (pictures coming when I find a place to download). Relieved, to be out of that commode, I return to my last beer and the locals are three sheets to the wind. One has capsized. We all have a good laugh. Hah! Hah! Hah! Noyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
Did I forget to mention? Forget to mention it is the 50 year anniversary of the siege of Dien Bien Phu? Where the French were sent packing, but hardly wiped out judging by the expat population, in 1954. Well, we will see what celebations there is this evening.
Weather it is Dhongor dollars, everything is cheap and dollars are excepted everywhere. Tomorrow we are off to Halong Bay for three days and two nights. Kayaking, swimming, and hiking. Then back to Ha Noi for a night and a final trip to Ho Chi Minh’s mousaleum (been there twice, both times closed! LOL!) Before heading off for Ninh Binh and Hue beyond that. We are well and Viet Nam is beautiful, you will see.
Bangkok, Thailand - the average annual temp in Bangkok is 95 degrees farenheit. That's not because it gets cold certain times of the year and then really hot at other times. That's just because it's about that temp most times of the year, and then the seasons differ by a wet and a dry season. That is damn hot.
I like hot weather...
...but doing alot of walking, running errands, sightseeing on a bicycle, or just any kind of physical activity took twice as much energy and water as what I'm used to. As much as my body tried, all the sweat made no difference. It just made a humid environment even more wet feeling. We took showers at least twice or three times a day, and almost every afternoon we'd retreat to our aircon room for a bit of respite. We started getting used to it though. At one point, we had the aircon at 25 degrees (77 degrees farenheit), and we started shivering!
You get what you pay for. I'm realizing that's true every where. Our first tuk tuk ride in Bangkok is a good example. We went to see the Grand Palace, and with our Grand Palace tickets, we also get entrance to the Teak Mansion. We scour the Grand Palace complex map for the Teak Mansion, and we can't find it anywhere. It's 2:00, and we want to make the 3pm last english tour.
When we finally find someone that speaks a little english, we learn the Teak Mansion isn't in the Grand Palace complex at all. It's not even within walking distance. We decide we'll go via tuk tuk despite reports that sometimes they stop by stores where they get a commission for taking you there before they finally get you to the destination you asked for. It's 2:15. I tell the first tuk tuk where we want to go. He says it'll cost 100 baht/person. In comparison the skytrain probably would have cost 30 baht/person (if a skytrain went that distance). Because you're supposed to bargain and we've heard so many stories about locals overcharging tourists, I say 50 baht for everybody (a little over $1 USD). He says 250 baht for everyone. I still think he's way overcharging, so I stick to my original 50 baht offer. He then gives me an offended look and leaves me choking on his exhaust.
A nice lady comes up to us and asks where we want to go. Then she asks how much we offered to pay the first tuk tuk. 50 bhat. She nods and says she can help. She speaks to the next tuk tuk, and she says he'll take us for 50 baht and we can even stop by the golden mount with the lucky buddha and the city center shops. We say we don't want to see the other stuff since we're trying to make the 3pm tour. She tells us it's worth seeing the buddha to bring your family luck, and the city center has very nice shops. We agree to see the buddha but not the shops. So off we go, and the tuk tuk driver asks where we're from and speaks very good english and is very friendly. We get to the golden mount and pay our respects to the buddha. As we're leaving a very friendly Thai man asks where we're from and starts chatting us up. He tells us he just bought his wife a saphire and ruby ring because it's the new year and it's 80% cheaper than usual since they don't have to pay the taxes on it. We get back in the tuk tuk, and coincidentally the tuk tuk driver offers to take us to the city center shops where there's a sale on precious gems. We say no thanks, but he keeps insisting. We say we just want to go to the Teak Mansion in time for our tour. Finally the driver says we don't have to stay long, even a minute is ok, because he gets free gas tickets if he takes us there. We finally agree because he came clean with us. What a headache! I'm not sure, but they must have all been in cahoots with this scheme!
Sometimes I'm bargaining over $.50 USD because it's the principle of not being cheated. But since I didn't know what was reasonable, I couldn't know that 50 baht for a ride was too good to be true. This bad experience aside, I had plenty of other transactions where people were honest and friendly. Bargaining is an art, but knowing about how much something should cost is a real headache saver.