This could quite possibly be the last blog of the trip... I cannot believe how fast it went by, yet at the same time certain memories feel like a lifetime ago. But before I get all sappy and make this like a bad yearbook signing let me just say that Vietnam is a-w-e-s-o-m-e !
Right now I'm in Mui Ne, a small beach town, which since the paving of the road just a few years ago has become a major kite surfing destination. All day I lounge on the beach and watch at least 40 - i stopped counting after 40 - kite surfers fly past. It's a little like extreme cirque du soleil. And as the kite surfers show off with their fancy tricks, the wind surfers whiz by underneath. All this does make it a little hazardous to swim ... but whatever. Mui Ne is a great ending to an unbelievable trip, nothing to do but lay on the beach, read a book, and think back on everything I've seen and done.
I don't want to make this one of those recap/montage-end-of-the-season blog entries, that's what the photo albums (and that's a big plural) are for, but if I had to wrap this whole thing up with one poignant statement I'd say that all the beauty I've seen since I left for Brazil last June, most certainly outweighs all of the ugly.
Anyway, my final Mui Ne dinner is calling. Tomorrow I'll soak up my last Vietnam rays and bus it back to Saigon in order to catch my very early Friday morning flight back home.
Home. I can't wait.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Sapa
I arrived back to Hanoi early this morning. 5am the night train pulled into the station and we jumped in a cab over to our travel agency that doubles as a hotel. A room was promised to us, but upon our arrival we found the staff asleep on ma tresses in the lobby and no room available. They generously offered to hold our bags before sending us back onto the street and going back to bed themselves. It was still just 5:30am and Hanoi was slowly waking up, however you know it's early - or late - when there's no pho cooking; just a few man out for their morning jog and a lone woman hoola-hooping about a half block down - "good for the abs," Nigel said. With the town still dark and asleep for the most part, Nigel and I decided to kick on the stoop and watch the sunrise. Around 6 was when the first metal grate went up. At home you would usually see someone walk up and unlock the bars from the outside, but in Hanoi the shops and restaurants become bedrooms, living rooms, kitchens, and dining rooms after closing, so grates are unlocked from the inside and thrown up to let in the morning light.
By 8 Hanoi was wide awake, but still no room available. It was time for pho anyhow, so we sat on pre-school sized stools at the corner and slurped our noodles and soup with the rest of the morning pho rush.
Hanoi is a world away from the quiet mountain town of Saba where I spent the last two days trekking through the Tonkinese Alps visiting villages of minority tribes, and where it seems that time just stopped 30 years ago. The mountains surrounding Saba are home to a handful of tribes, all with different dialects and traditions. The common denominator here is rice, and every tribe grows it. The sides of the mountains are chiseled, step-like, with cascading rice terraces; after the rain fall it looked as if the hills were lined with glass shelves.
Back on the night train, we shared a cabin with a French Canadian who told us his story, in graphic detail, of how he had spent the day in the home of some villagers, killing a pig for the Tet celebrations this week. After a few cans of Tiger he was reenacting the battle with the pig, showing us how he held the animal's back legs and wrestled it to the ground; he included the squeals and all. Once dead, the pig was cooked, apparently with no part going to waste, and evidently delicious by the toothy grin on the French Canadian's face, "Also lots of rice wine, I'll be sure to wake up with a hangover, eh?"
Tonight we're back on the train, heading south to Hue.
By 8 Hanoi was wide awake, but still no room available. It was time for pho anyhow, so we sat on pre-school sized stools at the corner and slurped our noodles and soup with the rest of the morning pho rush.
Hanoi is a world away from the quiet mountain town of Saba where I spent the last two days trekking through the Tonkinese Alps visiting villages of minority tribes, and where it seems that time just stopped 30 years ago. The mountains surrounding Saba are home to a handful of tribes, all with different dialects and traditions. The common denominator here is rice, and every tribe grows it. The sides of the mountains are chiseled, step-like, with cascading rice terraces; after the rain fall it looked as if the hills were lined with glass shelves.
Back on the night train, we shared a cabin with a French Canadian who told us his story, in graphic detail, of how he had spent the day in the home of some villagers, killing a pig for the Tet celebrations this week. After a few cans of Tiger he was reenacting the battle with the pig, showing us how he held the animal's back legs and wrestled it to the ground; he included the squeals and all. Once dead, the pig was cooked, apparently with no part going to waste, and evidently delicious by the toothy grin on the French Canadian's face, "Also lots of rice wine, I'll be sure to wake up with a hangover, eh?"
Tonight we're back on the train, heading south to Hue.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Hanoi
I had a really great week with my Dad, he left last night and I could tell he had an amazing time as well. But all good things must come to an end, and I just can't believe this trip has flown by so fast. I've got 10 days left, and 3 more towns to see.
Tonight Nigel and I will hop on the night train to Saba - a minority village in the north, just before the Chinese border. There we will spend two days trekking with a group through the villages and terraced rice paddies. I'm sure it will be a far cry from bustling, non-stop Hanoi where everyone seems to be on the move - I'm not sure where they're going or if they ever get there, but its an endless sea of motorbikes and foot traffic here. Pauses are only taken to eat or drink. On the street in Hanoi you can get a bowl of pho (noodle soup) or bun cha (the juiciest grilled pork with noodles in a sweet broth) for a dollar, and bia hoi (draught beer) for about 12 cents. It's fabulous.
Our Hanoi experience was a little different than Ho Chi Minh City. We opted to stay out of the museums and instead remained on the streets - wandering, getting lost, taking pictures, eating, drinking, and shopping. We spent one day on a private junk boat in Halong Bay - translated as Landing Dragon, for the footprints of the dragon that are made up of 2000 islands scattered in the bay. On the boat we had one of the freshest seafood meals I've ever tasted - i think the shrimp, crabs, and squid might have been caught while we were off on one of the islands. The drive to Halong Bay and back afforded a nice glimpse of the Hanoi suburbs and country side. Rice paddies up against rice paddies, where women spend their days bent at the waist planting the crops for the next rice harvest. Men ride past on motorbikes with live pigs strapped to the back, taking them to their undoubtedly grim fate. And there are store front cafes after store front cafes that serve only one thing: "thit cho" - um yeah, that would be puppy meat. I don't want to yuk their yum... but yuk.
In Hanoi we are staying at the Metropole Hotel - thank you dad - circa 1901. The place to stay in Hanoi for ambassadors, writers, journalists, heads of state, etc. I can only imagine the scene during the decades leading up to the war, and then throughout the 60s and 70s - the deals that must have gone down sitting in the mahogany bar by the pool, and the journalists overhearing confidential conversations while sipping their Graham Greenes ... "tram pham tram!" (that's Vietnamese for "bottoms up!"). The hotel is classic and so is Hanoi.
Tonight Nigel and I will hop on the night train to Saba - a minority village in the north, just before the Chinese border. There we will spend two days trekking with a group through the villages and terraced rice paddies. I'm sure it will be a far cry from bustling, non-stop Hanoi where everyone seems to be on the move - I'm not sure where they're going or if they ever get there, but its an endless sea of motorbikes and foot traffic here. Pauses are only taken to eat or drink. On the street in Hanoi you can get a bowl of pho (noodle soup) or bun cha (the juiciest grilled pork with noodles in a sweet broth) for a dollar, and bia hoi (draught beer) for about 12 cents. It's fabulous.
Our Hanoi experience was a little different than Ho Chi Minh City. We opted to stay out of the museums and instead remained on the streets - wandering, getting lost, taking pictures, eating, drinking, and shopping. We spent one day on a private junk boat in Halong Bay - translated as Landing Dragon, for the footprints of the dragon that are made up of 2000 islands scattered in the bay. On the boat we had one of the freshest seafood meals I've ever tasted - i think the shrimp, crabs, and squid might have been caught while we were off on one of the islands. The drive to Halong Bay and back afforded a nice glimpse of the Hanoi suburbs and country side. Rice paddies up against rice paddies, where women spend their days bent at the waist planting the crops for the next rice harvest. Men ride past on motorbikes with live pigs strapped to the back, taking them to their undoubtedly grim fate. And there are store front cafes after store front cafes that serve only one thing: "thit cho" - um yeah, that would be puppy meat. I don't want to yuk their yum... but yuk.
In Hanoi we are staying at the Metropole Hotel - thank you dad - circa 1901. The place to stay in Hanoi for ambassadors, writers, journalists, heads of state, etc. I can only imagine the scene during the decades leading up to the war, and then throughout the 60s and 70s - the deals that must have gone down sitting in the mahogany bar by the pool, and the journalists overhearing confidential conversations while sipping their Graham Greenes ... "tram pham tram!" (that's Vietnamese for "bottoms up!"). The hotel is classic and so is Hanoi.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Goodbye Bombay, Hello KL, and Good Morning Vietnaaam!
My dad told some lady that he was going to Ho Chi Minh City to meet his daughter. She replied, "Wow, when did you find out you had a daughter?"
It's been amazing having my dad on the trip with me. But allow me to backtrack for a bit...
After leaving the little village of Pushkar we headed back to Bombay. It was great to be able to give the answer "no, second" when the children on the street asked "first time Bombay?" Bombay Round Two was not quite the shock it was when I had arrived to India back on January 3rd - a month traveling the country made me a little immune to certain sights and smells, and I was able to take in the city without those distractions. However I didn't have much time because midnight of our second day we flew to Kuala Lumpur, capitol of Malaysia.
KL was the perfect meat to my India Vietnam sandwich - the city is a true melting pot of Southeast Asia and India, the food, the people, the culture. It turns out that Malaysians are, and I quote from Let's Go, "obsessed with inter-racial marriage." This obviously lends itself to great fusion cuisine, and you only have to go to the hawker on the corner to get some of it. The city itself reminded me of a rundown Singapore - KL didn't have that squeaky clean, new car feeling, but like Singapore there was no sense of a single native culture. Plus, I think the level of obsession with inter-racial marriages could only be matched by the obsession with malls - very much like Singapore. So shop we did. I shopped and ate my way through Kuala Lumpur, pausing just for a moment to take the local bus out of the city to the Batu Caves.
The Caves are at the top of a mountain, 272 steps up, and are home to various Hindu temples and shrines. I climbed the steps with barefooted Hindus who had shaved and covered their heads in white powder for the festival that falls in January and February. Offerings of flowers and oranges are laid in front of the statues of the gods, incense is lit, and men pierce their bodies and connect themselves with chains to the walls of the caves. I didn't understand a thing.
On my last day in KL I had time for a quick breakfast of rice noodles in a peanut chili sauce, and then we were off to Vietnam...
I leaped out of my seat at the hotel bar when I saw my dad walk into the lobby, it's really nice having a piece of home with me for a week. And it's especially nice to have my dad with me in Vietnam, a place of so much importance and impact on his life; my visit to the War Remnants Museum - originally named the American War Crimes Museum - would not have been the same without him. I mean I was looking at these photographs of American GIs, men - and boys barely men - that could have been my dad or his brother. I'm looking at these photos, and watching my dad look at these photos - recognizing some from the pages of Life - and it was just something I can't put into words.
So my dad's been teaching me a few things about the Vietnam War and I've been teaching him a thing or two about bargaining. Like when you offer 100,000 dong for a set of salad forks and the man says no and types 60,000 on the calculator, you don't argue with him.
In between the museums and markets I've been eating well. Obviously. However maybe I should rephrase that: In between meals we've seen a few museums and markets. Yep that's more like it... Anyway, we've been slurping up bowls of pho and bon tham bi and cannot help but compare them to the pho and bon tham bi back in Philly - Little Saigon of Upper Darby still reigns supreme. And speaking of noodles, it's time to go get some ...
Tomorrow we fly to Hanoi.
It's been amazing having my dad on the trip with me. But allow me to backtrack for a bit...
After leaving the little village of Pushkar we headed back to Bombay. It was great to be able to give the answer "no, second" when the children on the street asked "first time Bombay?" Bombay Round Two was not quite the shock it was when I had arrived to India back on January 3rd - a month traveling the country made me a little immune to certain sights and smells, and I was able to take in the city without those distractions. However I didn't have much time because midnight of our second day we flew to Kuala Lumpur, capitol of Malaysia.
KL was the perfect meat to my India Vietnam sandwich - the city is a true melting pot of Southeast Asia and India, the food, the people, the culture. It turns out that Malaysians are, and I quote from Let's Go, "obsessed with inter-racial marriage." This obviously lends itself to great fusion cuisine, and you only have to go to the hawker on the corner to get some of it. The city itself reminded me of a rundown Singapore - KL didn't have that squeaky clean, new car feeling, but like Singapore there was no sense of a single native culture. Plus, I think the level of obsession with inter-racial marriages could only be matched by the obsession with malls - very much like Singapore. So shop we did. I shopped and ate my way through Kuala Lumpur, pausing just for a moment to take the local bus out of the city to the Batu Caves.
The Caves are at the top of a mountain, 272 steps up, and are home to various Hindu temples and shrines. I climbed the steps with barefooted Hindus who had shaved and covered their heads in white powder for the festival that falls in January and February. Offerings of flowers and oranges are laid in front of the statues of the gods, incense is lit, and men pierce their bodies and connect themselves with chains to the walls of the caves. I didn't understand a thing.
On my last day in KL I had time for a quick breakfast of rice noodles in a peanut chili sauce, and then we were off to Vietnam...
I leaped out of my seat at the hotel bar when I saw my dad walk into the lobby, it's really nice having a piece of home with me for a week. And it's especially nice to have my dad with me in Vietnam, a place of so much importance and impact on his life; my visit to the War Remnants Museum - originally named the American War Crimes Museum - would not have been the same without him. I mean I was looking at these photographs of American GIs, men - and boys barely men - that could have been my dad or his brother. I'm looking at these photos, and watching my dad look at these photos - recognizing some from the pages of Life - and it was just something I can't put into words.
So my dad's been teaching me a few things about the Vietnam War and I've been teaching him a thing or two about bargaining. Like when you offer 100,000 dong for a set of salad forks and the man says no and types 60,000 on the calculator, you don't argue with him.
In between the museums and markets I've been eating well. Obviously. However maybe I should rephrase that: In between meals we've seen a few museums and markets. Yep that's more like it... Anyway, we've been slurping up bowls of pho and bon tham bi and cannot help but compare them to the pho and bon tham bi back in Philly - Little Saigon of Upper Darby still reigns supreme. And speaking of noodles, it's time to go get some ...
Tomorrow we fly to Hanoi.
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