Day 19 – October 6 –Hoi An

We woke up to another four or five hours on the train. The trip from Hanoi to Hoi An took about 14 hours, getting us into Hoi An around 1pm. We split a car with our two friends to Hoi An, since the train actually drops you off in the larger city of Da Nang. We picked up two additional girls and made our way into the city at 50 Dong each (I just like being able to reference Vietnamese money… Dong). The girls wanted to get dropped off at a hotel they found in their book, but the driver instead shuttled them into a different hotel. Everything in this part of the world is a hustle job. Everyone gets a cut from the driver who gets gas coupons or a gift for taking an unsuspecting tourist to a souvenir shop or a guide who passes that same tourist to an expensive restaurant in return for a meal. These things are fine, as long as you know how to work within the framework. We knew which hotel we wanted to try, so we forced the driver to take us there. We negotiated our rate for the hotel on the river down from $45 to $20 a night. It was clean, except for a small ant infestation in the bathroom. Hoi An had just been pummeled by Typhoon Ketsana a week before, with the entire historical city center underwater, however the Vietnamese government sent in the army and less than a week later, after the river subsided, the city was open to tourism once again. Lucky for us, they were desperate to have some income, so we were getting discounts left, right and center.

After settling in and having the front desk trip a couple of blown fuses for us, we walked into the old town. We were starting to redline in terms of lack of food, so we walked to Brothers Café which happened to be one of the nicest places in the city. Located along the river bank, the service was top-notch and the banana-orange smoothie was awesome. We also split some fried wontons which were great. We have been told that there are three very traditional dishes from Hoi An: fried wontons, “white roses” which are dumplings, and a beef noodle soup. First one down!

We walked along the river bank past the markets which were bustling at about 5:00pm. The food stalls were beginning to close up shop for the day but the souvenir and clothing stalls were still open with shopkeepers grabbing at us as we walked by: “Mister, Mister! Come see my shop, please! Come into my shop… you buy something!” We have gotten pretty good at this. We just stiff arm them as we walk by, not making eye contact, and continually shake our heads. It has worked as well as one could hope. In the center of Hoi An is the UNESCO World Heritage area, the historic city of Hoi An. It really is beautiful, with Chinese influenced architecture. The Japanese Bridge, which spans about 30 feet, is not as interesting in life as it is made out to be, however. It is pretty uninspiring after a couple of days in the awesome natural beauty of Halong Bay or the inspiring majesty of Angkor Wat. Wait… am I becoming jaded? Crap. Let’s think back to something that will put me back in that mindset which constantly moved by new sights… Remember all the 800-year old architecture and various colonial remnants in Santa Monica? No, neither did I. Okay, thanks, perspective, for returning to me. Japanese Bridge, cool!

Past the Japanese Bridge is a street full of art vendors. I am skeptical. These are all probably from the same art mill based on the Chinese boarder making fake Van Goghs. But no. We walked until we found the last painter and started looking there. He had three types of paintings. The man inside claimed to be the artist responsible for the lacquer paintings and oil landscapes. His friend, he said, did the surreal oils. Actually, everything in the shop was fantastic, and Robin and I both took shinings to separate pieces. After we got the prices (about $300 for large 4 ft by 3 ft paintings), we told the man we would sleep on it and come back. As we walked on, my skepticism was nagging at me, so we decided to stop in several shops on the way back to the city center. All the shops had different artistic styles and themes. I was very relieved. I could actually buy some of this art feeling good about its authenticity. We stepped into another shop which had traditional subjects, like huts on the water and Hoi An street scenes, in a more modern style. Robin and I both really liked the one centered at the entrance just as we walked in. God, I hope we don’t come down to both wanting the same one! We got some pricing from the artist and decided to grab dinner.

Dinner was in a restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet, or at least we thought. Turns out they were just using the same name as the authentic Lonely Planet restaurant across the street! No matter, food was fine. Nothing great. We both tried the “White Rose” and noodle dishes. Neither Robin nor I was taken by the noodle plate. In fact, it was borderline awful. Eh, what you doing to do? We did like the scenery from our second floor perch, though. The moon was rising over the French colonial old city with a deep red color. It was striking. The whole scene was a nice welcome to a Vietnamese city other than Hanoi. I enjoyed the change of pace and the calm, welcoming people. Our waitress, YumYum, liked us and suggested a place to get suits made. She told us that the places around the main old city are too pricey and of poor quality. I’m more interested in finding the better quality, we can negotiate price from there. YumYum also gave us some price points on paintings ($150-250 for 3-4 ft square) if we want to go back to our artist friends.

After dinner, we walked around a bit and took some photos of the river, such a peaceful vista with lights shedding soft light along the still water which had caused so much havoc and destruction just days earlier. One could still see trees uprooted and laying strewn across the river bank. Dirt coated the streets and sidewalks, and most restaurants and bars had some visible damage. One bar we went to had no music because the hurricane’s flood waters had damaged the speakers and stereo system, but we were fine with the circumstances. We ordered a couple of rounds of drinks, and I broke out my iPod to place some music through the integrated speaker. The waitress came up to us, we were sitting on the balcony looking across the water to the old city, and I apologized for having my music on that loud. She said, no no, I was coming over to listen! So, see, I told you I was a DJ!

A good day.

Day 18 – October 5 – Halong Bay – Hanoi

We awoke early this morning to participate in Tai Chi class. We went to the deck where the Tai Chi master lead us in an hour of Tai Chi. It was fantastic. Just slow, meditative movements with the early morning sun shining over across the waking Bay. Joining us this morning were the Aussies. I had this picture in my mind that those in the Floating Village were watching us, Westerners on the deck of a luxury ship, practicing Tai Chi and laughing to themselves about the absurd spectacle. We had fun, which was all that mattered.

Breakfast was a simple affair with the four Aussies. The rest of our friends had left earlier that morning for the day boats. After breakfast we were told by OCAC that we were to go to the Surprise Cave, but Robin and I decided to stage a small mutiny. We were not going to go to the Surprise Cave, and instead, enjoy our waning hours on the boat up on the deck. We enjoyed laying out on the lounge chairs, soaking in the sun on our last morning in Halong Bay. The silence was exquisite, we were finally free of crying babies, pushy OCAC and any other distractions from the view and sun. It was a perfect morning.

When the Aussies returned, we packed up, had our bags outside our cabins, and waited up on the deck for our return to port. It was a solemn affair. Tom and Carol were finishing a little more than three months of traveling and the rest of us dreaded a return to vans and traffic and loud noises. Around 11am, it was time for us to say goodbye to the Indochina Sails II, Froggy and OCAC (yet, I had no tears to shed for these new friends, just time to move on), and we were on our way to the pier restaurant, where the weekend had begun. I gave Carol a hug goodbye, and she gave me her and Tom’s contact info, inviting me to stay with them in Australia if I had time. That was very kind of her! If I can make it to the Sunshine Coast, I’ll definitely look them up. Robin and I waited for a little while, then got on our Handspan bus back to Hanoi. It was pretty full, and there was a family with two children who were going nuts. Absolutely off the wall. It appeared that the kids had made friends with some other children in a British family, and the British kid’s dad was trying desperately to calm the children down. Sit here, watch this. Here is a book. Look at the camera… on and on because the parents of the other family were completely oblivious to their own rowdy children. So, I plugged in. Nothing else to do in that situation, right? I listened to some good tunes, fell asleep, and rode back to the soothing car horns and insane traffic of Hanoi.

Back in Hanoi around 5pm, we had little to do before the train left at 11:00pm. So we went to the vegetarian restaurant adjacent to the Handspan office, Tamarind, and had lunch/dinner. We started pounding Vietnamese iced coffees which were oh so good. They put a bit of condensed milk in it, which lightens the taste of the heavy, dark coffee very well. I looked over at Robin, who had this look of wonder and then absolute joy. He calls over the waitress and asks her if the massage sign is correct: 90 minute massage for $20. She says yes. Well, thanks, lady, you just made Robin’s month. I decided to sit back and write a bit, look into places in Hoi An, while Robin got his massage. As much as Robin loves his massages, I’m indifferent. While he was upstairs, this woman looked at me and said, “Dan? Dan! Hey, I knew I’d see you here!” I looked back down at my computer, assuming she was referencing a man named Dan near me. But no, for some reason, I look like a Dan to her. I tell her, no, sorry, I’m not Dan. No, she cries, you’re the photographer! No, just because I have a camera doesn’t make me a photographer. Turns out, her name is Elena, she is Italian, and she has been traveling for quite a while. We spoke for a bit, and after she told me her next destination, Hue, I told her I was going to Hoi An. She suggested we meet up in Hoi An or Saigon. Wow, Dan really has a fan. She has to leave for her train, she’s taking the earlier 7pm train to Hue, but she tells me how she’ll find me in Hoi An. Fun! A potential stalker!

Later, after another two iced coffees, Robin and I leave for the train station. It is a large station which is devoid of pretty much any convenience except for a concession stand (slim pickings) and a bathroom (Robin pretty much passed out after being in there for 60 seconds, apparently hygiene is not a concern). We got to our train, which was full of tourists. We got the middle of the three classes which had four bunks to a cabin with a minimal cushion and blanket on each bed. We shared the cabin with a couple from Lijang, China. He was British, working for an architectural firm, and she was Chinese. They had decided to beat it out of China during the 60th Anniversary of Independence festivities since it was so nuts. There was a full week off of work and school for everyone. Parades and parties, fireworks and shows, but they just wanted to go to Halong Bay and Hoi An. They were very interesting, a nice couple, and a pleasure to share the cabin. She did not complain once about the Spartan set-up and slept most of the time. Robin and I read or wrote. No worries.

Day 17 – October 4 – Halong Bay

I slept really well last night. Maybe it was the gentle rocking of the boat, or the comfortable mattress, or even the several beers I had right before going to bed. Whatever it was, it was much appreciated. Although we haven’t had a complete dog of a hotel/hostel since we began, save that chicken/rooster debacle on the Burmese boarder, our sleep has been inconsistent, which makes a good nights sleep that much more appreciated. We bid farewell to the 1-night crew, which was most of the boat. Supposedly, yesterday while at Titop Island, the crew was unable to raise the anchor fully, so we are now effectively dragging a half-extended anchor behind us shutting out all shallow areas. Therefore, they are going to be switching us to the Indochina Sails II, supposedly “identical” to our current boat. I’m not so sure, but, hey, what is the alternative?

After breakfast we transfer to an entirely different day boat. It comprises two levels, with six lunch tables and large comfortable couches inside and a deck with six lounge chairs and two umbrellas. The sun was out in force today, with no clouds or mist like yesterday. Tom, Carol, Robin and I immediately made claim on four of the lounge chairs, moving them here or there to fully utilize the sunshine. When we booked the trip, we were primarily interested in a full day of kayaking, hopefully without a guide. We just wanted to explore the bay, paddling aimlessly and discovering hidden places on our own. With OCAC on the original Indochina Sails I with the departing crew, we had Froggy, a woman who had a distinct frog-like voice when speaking in English. She also did not speak English all that proficiently, allowing us to do what we wanted by ignoring her. It was pretty sweet. After sailing to a more remote and deserted part of Halong Bay, we all jumped into tandem kayaks, no sit-on-top like home or Luang Prabang. The six of us, along with Froggy and a porter, paddled to a small cave about 10-15 minutes from the boat. We climbed out of the kayaks, grabbed flashlights and ventured into the darkness of the Fairy Cave. It is called such due to the glittering stone stalactites hanging from the ceiling. In fact, if one knocks on a stalactite, it makes this hollow BONGGGGG. It is quite cool. In the main cavern, which was relatively large at 50 feet long by 25 feet wide, the youths of the area hold a party. They place candles everywhere, on the ground, on rocks, clinging to walls… it must be an incredible sight. The last party wasn’t too long ago because there was still confetti strewn across the ground. We wandered around for about 15 minutes, crawling through tunnels and scrambling up walls. We had a good time. After, we jumped back in the kayaks. Froggy told us we could swim around the boat if we wished, to which Robin and I decided to just kayak around for a little longer. We explored the area around the Fairy Cave, finding some hidden, secluded coastlines and beaches. We thoroughly enjoyed the quiet time to sit and reflect about the amazing trip we are fortunate enough to take.

Back onboard, we both did some diving from the boat, having a great time in the water. It was so warm, like high 70 degrees. I mean, it really was like bath water. Tom and Carol were having a difficult time asking Froggy to take a picture of them from the boat (yes, I am sure that is a strange and unique request on this type of trip), so Robin went ahead and did the photographer thing for them. We ventured on a little farther before it was time for kayaking again. By this time it was about 10:30am, and we were given free range to kayak anywhere we wanted before returning to the boat for lunch. Robin and I jumped in our first, wanted to spend as much time in the water as possible. There were three or four small beaches scattered around this part of the bay, but we wanted to paddle over to the other islands, away from our day boat. We found two cool arches to kayak through, several other beaches and islands. We slowly made our way to one of the larger beaches near the boat, the one that none of our fellow passengers decided to inhabit. We pulled the kayak onto the beach and then sat down at the waterline. The waves were small, rhythmically slapping at our feet. Throughout the trip, we have had personal time, either writing in our journals, or just sitting and looking at the changing landscapes before us. This was a very beautiful moment, and I don’t think either of us had any words which would add to it. We sat in silence, listening to the waves, to the birds, to the distant sounds of the boats… The view was spectacular, a singularly beautiful place on this planet. We could not see another human. The beach was unspoilt, probably very few tourists make it here. You know those montages in movies where an easy instrumental is playing in the background as the camera slowly pans across a deserted beach while the contemplative protagonist crosses his arms, lowers his head, and then skips a stone across the smooth, glassy water as he comes to an epiphany? That was our afternoon, except there are two protagonists, and Robin was MUCH better at skipping stones. I don’t know what is in store for me the rest of the trip, but this could definitely be the defining moment. I’m waiting to see what China and New Zealand have in store for me, also.

Back to the boat for lunch where the three groups sat at different tables. Lunch was good, noodles and fish. Very yummy. After lunch we were told that we only had about an hour to an hour and a half of time before we headed back to the large boat to meet the new group. We all decided to lounge on the upper deck, getting sun and enjoying the peace and quiet before meeting potentially more children. The atmosphere of the day boat has been worlds apart from yesterday, relaxing, quiet and free of OCAC. But it is not to last. Time to get back on the large ship.

Around 4:00pm we were back on the large boat, with exactly the same cabin as we had on Indochina Sails I. The only difference is the smell. Although there is a hint of mothball to the whole place, this boat is slightly nicer: newer wood, fresh paint and cleaner restaurant. Before the rest of the passengers embarked, we thought it would be cool to get massages. $30 for 45 minutes. Since I didn’t see anyone who remotely resembled Uncle Fester, I decided to go for it. I have now confirmed, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am not a massage guy. I like the neck and back massage, even the hand massage, but all the rest of it I could do without. And this massage, the Vietnamese girl did the Swedish kung-fu chop on my back, which was definitely not my deal. I like the digging massage. Robin, on the other hand, really likes his massages. Good for him, this is a good place to get a long, cheap massage.

About an hour after the massages the new passengers decided to come out of their cabins and join us on the deck. Two young couples, mid-30s. One couple, from Vancouver, had a 3-year old daughter, and the other couple, the wife from Vancouver and the husband from the UK but they were ex-pats in Singapore, had two sons, 4 and 2-years old. The guy from Vancouver was a triathlete and the guy from the UK worked for Credit Suisse. I was trying to do some journaling in the restaurant when the children and the CS dude came up, yelling and screaming their heads off. But, they were very cute. I started talking to the CS dude, who happened to have worked at Goldman a couple of years ago in interest rate research and strategies. Interesting conversation. Then our Aussie friend Carol came in and we all chatted for a while. We all sat upstairs on the deck to watch the sunset before dinner. After a fine dinner, Robin and I decided we wanted go squid fishing. Apparently Heather, Robin’s girlfriend, did this a couple of months ago and said that she fished for two hours, wait after everyone else had left, before catching one. So, obviously, Robin and I felt that we needed to catch a squid, too. The only problem, was that it was still the Full Moon Festival, therefore there was a full moon, and squid are attracted to light. The way to catch a squid is to sit near the light at the stern of the boat and hang a bamboo pole with a line and hook, baitless, and bob that pole up and down. Eventually, says OCAC, a squid might latch on. So Robin and I sat there, beers in hand, and fished for squid for about two hours. As we were out there, the Aussies, Carol and Tom, the four newbies from Vancouver/UK and another couple, one Egyptian the other Chinese, slowly joined our team of squishermen. The final three, the two wives and the CS guy, stayed the longest. We had a really fun conversation about life as ex-pats, Japan and Singapore. Both couples had brought baby monitors and fought argued amicably with their husbands about checking on them when there was crying. We had a lot of fun discussing investment banking and the state of the world economy. After about 2 to 3 hours, we decided that the squid fishing was not going to end successfully. We had fun chatting up our new friends and decided to go to bed. Tomorrow we bid farewell to Halong Bay.

Day 16 – October 3 – Hanoi - Halong Bay

Our experience today has been completely different from that of yesterday. All positive. We checked out, got to Handspan and our van was perfectly on time. Besides Robin and me, we had to Spaniards, an Italian and a Scot. All perfectly nice people, all slept for the two hour ride. Perfect. The only interesting aspect was the beginning where the Handspan coordinator gave us a discussion on history and life in Vietnam, in general, and Hanoi, in particular. There were several interesting remarks, particularly her repeated insistence on the desire for the Vietnamese to look forward, not into the past, since their future was bright. Then she pointed to the Dragon Bridge outside of Hanoi which remains un-renovated since its bombing in the Vietnam War as a symbol of American and foreign aggression. Okay, fine. Keep going. Then she asked us all our names, our hometowns, and the thing we have been most impressed by in Vietnam. I’ll start. I’m Kevin, from California, and I am most impressed by your ability to operate without a coherent transportation strategy on your congested motorways. Next. I’m Robin, from Minnesota, and I am most impressed by the sheer volume of scooters in your cities. We literally cannot think for all the honking. The coordinator: “Thank you for your appreciation for our great country.” Nope, don’t think you got it, but we’ll just be moving on. Then, the finale. “Robin and Kevin,” she asked, “do you feel bad about coming to Vietnam? Did you worry about coming here?” Umm. We looked at each other, a little puzzled by the directness of the question. Obviously, the recent history of Vietnam was clear to us, and we know there are conflicting feelings among the populaces of both countries: desires to progress beyond the conflict, enduring animosity, feelings of guilt and sorrow. Being of the generation immediately after the war, my feelings are shaped by those from the previous generation I speak with about the conflict. That and Forrest Gump. My desire is to learn more about the country and its people, which is why I came to Vietnam. Our tour does not visit sites only related to the War, although the Hanoi Hilton and the Cu Chi tunnels in Saigon are on the itinerary, but also the UNESCO World Heritage sites of Hoi An and Halong Bay. We want to speak with the people of Vietnam beyond their war memories. How is my generation doing in Vietnam. Of course, the Handspan coordinator’s English was sub par at best, so we told her we were conflicted, obviously, but had moved on. She agreed, told us to look forward, at her people’s bright future, and enjoy ourselves. Finally on the same page, we arrived at Halong Bay.

We stepped out of the van and onto a dock with about 6 other Westerners. There was a small waiting area inside a restaurant-like room for passengers of Indochina Sails, but we were the sole remaining passengers so we made our way straight to the pier. At the end of the dock was a large thatch umbrella with “Enjoy your Trip” on it, looking deceptively like the font on an Absolut Vodka bottle. Fitting, perhaps. Our cabin on the boat, Indochina Sails I (yes, there are 3 versions of the ship, which will be of interest later), was fantastic. There are 15 cabins, usually maxing the boat out at 30 passengers, but this ship had 4 additional children staying with parents, pushing up our crew to 34 Chinese, Vietnamese, Aussies (Patricia, Camille, Carol and Tom), a Brit (Nick) and your Americans. Beds were comfortable, second level of the boat (we could open the windows without fear of waves drenching us), rain shower, good amount of space. It was awesome. Lunch was good with both of our favorites being the pumpkin soup. After lunch we explored the ship a bit before the Manager of the boat asked us, politely but firmly, to join them on the tender to go to Titop Island for some relaxing and hiking. This became a running issue with the Manager, he had to make sure we all joined for every activity at the exact same time. He needed to run the ship efficiently, so I named him Oh Captain A Captain (because he really wasn’t my captain, and OCAC for short is better). Robin and I got on the tender with OCAC only after he had someone phone our room when we were thirty seconds late. Seriously, dude, we need to grab our cameras, just chill a second. We get to Titop Island, which turns out to be an island with a tall cliff jutting vertically out of the water like all islands in Halong Bay, but this one has a steep path to the top. Of course, Robin and I want to climb the hill, but OCAC tells us to wait for him to gather everyone. Bite me, OCAC, it’s a staircase up to an observatory, where am I going to make a wrong turn? Help me! I can’t find the exit! After we shook him, the climb was peaceful and calm. The view from the various lookouts and the summit were amazing. Halong Bay is gorgeous. Breathtaking. Words cannot capture the majesty of cliffs reaching vertically from the water, covered in vivid green vines and trees. The bay has no waves whatsoever, so the cliffs are all reflected in the water as clearly as images in a mirror. Boats looked like ants from the summit, milling between large, rounded hills. The mist beyond cannot completely hide the limestone hills laying beneath, so they look like ghosts in the distance. We were both taken aback by the vista before us. Hopefully the photos can give a better impression of the view than I can.

By the time we had walked down the stairs to the beach, OCAC was gathering his cattle, herding them off to the tender. He looked at us, disapprovingly, and told us we were to get on the boat now. Whatever, this is a man-made beach, anyways, so I have no issue getting back the boat’s deck. On the boat, Robin and I parked ourselves on the outdoor lounge chairs, enjoying a relaxing snooze in the sun. It was great. Effectively, from the initial flight to Bangkok until this point, we have been running to and fro, jumping on trains, racing to airports or just trudging around towns looking for hotels, restaurants or sites. This opportunity to relax and just breathe has been so rewarding. I feel like a new man. We took photo after photo of the incredible view. I do not know how someone could get tired of looking at this calm expanse of water with great stone monuments reaching vertically towards the bright blue sky. I’m absolutely awed by this place. Then, the Chinese children. Running back and forth across the deck, screaming, pounding, falling, crying… it was mayhem. If it were not for fear of starting an international incident, I would have duct taped them to the staircase. The parents just ignored the screams coming from their offspring. Sir…sir, if you don’t quiet those brats down, I’m going to lose my mind, and you are going to lose a child to the Bay. Thankfully, OCAC came up and forced the Chinese and Vietnamese passengers to the tender for their late afternoon kayaking. See, there is a benevolent force in the universe after all.

The remaining passengers enjoyed the dying light of the sunset over the cliffs, savoring the peace and quiet. Robin and I just took photo after photo, relishing every shot. OCAC decided, you know what, during the waning rays of the sunset would be a perfect time take the tender to see a floating village. Really? Fine, I’ll go, but just because I want to go to the floating disco. There are several floating villages in Halong Bay, literally homes built on pontoons. It was fascinating to see, with lines of homes against the islands, some large, some small. There was a schoolhouse, a general store and many small rowboats cruising about trying to sell seashells and necklaces. It was quite interesting. As we made our loop around the village, the sun set, allowing the creeping darkness to envelop us completely. As the sun went down, the lights on one solitary house started to shine more brightly. I heard the tell tale sound of deep bass and tinny europop beats. Yes, it was a disco. A floating disco. And from the sounds of it, the place was damn popular. We circled the area for a few minutes longer, hoping to see some more rowboats with teenagers paddling up to the disco, but it was more dinnertime than party time, so we left.

At dinner, we invited Nick, to join us. He had been on a business trip to Bangkok and Hanoi from Manchester and decided to spend the weekend in Halong Bay. His wife was at home, most likely fuming his weekend plans. He worked for a division of Johnson and Johnson based in Irvine, so we discussed Los Angeles and California. He was hilarious, saying how he didn’t really care for LA, although they had a decent time whenever they went. He was positive about the people, about the food, well, about everything… so, what’s the issue, I asked. Damn, man, Brits need something to be upset at! Life in general, and weather in particular, is ‘shit’ in London, and I need to have something to point at and call it out. I guess LA is too easy for him. Don’t worry, there are already enough people in Los Angeles, we don’t need a couple more Brits! After dinner, Nick, Robin and I sat with the Aussies, Tom and Carol from the Sunshine Coast. They were hilarious, also, and we began buying each other drinks. It became a boisterous, loud mishmash of American and Australian accents, enough to convince the little satan children to go downstairs and watch the movie, “The Quiet American.” Ha ha, sorry, there are no quiet Americans, at least not on this boat!

It was a fantastic day, and I can only imagine tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow it is just the four Aussies and us. Try giving us orders tomorrow, cause we aren’t going to listen.

Day 15 – October 2 – Hanoi and Tam Coc (Bikes!)

Today we go to Tam Coc where we ride bikes and take a boat ride on what some call the Halong Bay of the rice paddies. We did not book this one through Handspan, since we decided it was only a day trip and the one we found was less than half the price. The agency we booked through is located next to our hotel, so we just had to wake up and stumble next door at 8am. The agent hyped the trip by saying that his company actually operates the trip, so everyone will meet at our agency and go from there. Erroneous. We were the first two in the van, and we spent the next 90 minutes going around the city picking up various people. It was a veritable UN in this van. Americans, Aussies, Brits, French, Vietnamese, Chinese, Filipinos, Japanese… the only common language was English. I loved that. Watching the various Asian nationalities communicating in broken English with the French guys trying in vain to speak to people in French (“Quoi? I don’t understand you.”). The van was also only designed for 16-18 people yet they packed in 24. Now, off to Tam Coc!

Or maybe not. We were driven to Hoa Lu, the pre-Hanoi capital of Vietnam. Interesting, this is exactly what we told the travel agent what we didn’t want to do. So we all pile out of the van, greedily gulping down clean, fresh air, or as fresh as Hanoi-suburb air gets. That is when the shouting started. The Aussie girl, obviously irate, shouts at the tour guide, “This is not Ninh Binh. We bought a direct ticket from Hanoi to Ninh Binh. This is not Ninh Binh!” I found this hilarious, particularly because the picture of her shouting “Ninh Binh” repeatedly, with a very stern countenance, against a backdrop of soaring green limestone cliffs and tranquil red temples created an absurd scene. The British guy, apparently traveling with our tempertantrum-prone Aussie friend, started yelling, “No, I don’t want to see the goddamn temples! You are going to get me to Ninh Binh whether you have to buy me a bus ticket yourself.” Dude, look around you. We are in the middle of nowhere with nothing larger than a rickshaw anywhere near us. I felt for their predicament, but this 45 minute layover was not going to kill them. Robin and I had already written off the biking as an empty promise by the travel agent, who would be getting a stern berating by us on our return. Then, the Aussie yells, “I’m not happy. I’m not happy in the least!” Well, thanks for clearing that up, now I know not to expect you to hand out tea and crumpets to everyone, thanking us for our patience. That is when our guide erupted. In fast flowing, broken unintelligible English, he yells, “Not my fault, not my fault. I don’t use my money to pay for you! Travel agent fail!” The most entertaining part was his face. His face was contorted in crimson rage, fists clenched tight, with a resolute refusal to look any of his antagonists in the eyes. He was yelling at them but looking at the rest of the group, the majority of which had no clue what he or the English speakers were saying. Robin and I were enjoying our free show, secretly delighted that other people were having issues with the tour operator, but in a very vocal way. We will just sit back, and take on the tour guide after they have beaten him up fully. The British man, in a self-righteous fury, refused to enter the temple complex, pacing the entrance back and forth, stewing in his own anger. Dude, you lost, someone screwed up, and you lost. Just get over it, see the 1000 year old temple, and get back in the van. You’ll make it to Nimby Bimby in an hour. Grow a pair.

The temple, eh. After the Jungle Temple and Angkor Wat, it looked like it had been constructed from concrete about 4 years ago to increase tourism. So, rather than listen to the still frustrated tour guide, we used the opportunity to find out a little more from the Aussie and, maybe, prod her a little more in her anger. They were actually following our itinerary exactly, but wanted to spend an additional 30 minutes in Ninh Binh. They didn’t have anywhere to rush off to, no, they just were upset about stopping. So I told her she had every right to be upset, that they were lied to, taken advantage of, the works. She got even more worked up, pretty funny to watch.

As we were finishing at the temples, the guide gathers the group and apologizes for his unprofessional outburst. He calls the Brit and Aussie unreasonable, and begs our forgiveness. Fine, just on with the show, please. He turns to Robin and me and tells us we would start our ride now with the two others who chose to bike. Really? Score! We picked up our bikes and took off, Robin, me, the irate guide, and a couple around our age from Hong Kong who spoke excellent English. It was fantastic. We got off the main road and away from the smelling, crowded van full of emotional idiots. On we biked, through tall limestone cliffs which rose from the still water. A few motorbikes and even less cars passed us. As we got into the groove of riding, it started to rain. Lightly at first and then a full downpour. Robin and I whipped out our Arc’teryx and Mountain Hardware rainjackets, respectively, which have held up superbly in the Angkor Wat typhoon and now the Tam Coc monsoon. The couple from HK had ponchos, which worked quite well on the bikes. Unfortunately, our poor guide, still exasperated from the verbal skirmish with the Anglos, had no raingear whatsoever. So we kept right on going through the rain. Our guide decided to chat me up a little, asking where I was from (standard response is California, it usually stumps them because they are expecting USA, Australia or England, and if you rush through the word ‘California’ fast enough, they don’t catch it and just let you go on your way) and how long I had been in Vietnam. He asked me how old I was, and when I said 26, he was amazed. I thought you were older, he cried. No, 26. Then he told me he can’t tell any white people apart or their ages. Hilarious. Thanks for the tip. Next time I go to a Vietnamese fair, I’ll go to the Guess My Age booth. He asked me about work, and when I told him about finance, he decided to marvel me with his understanding of economics, specifically: “The US ruined everything, but Vietnam is doing well! The US economy is a paper tiger.” My response, which Robin found hilarious, was a lesson on Nobel Laureate Paul Krugman’s discussion on the out of whack savings rates in developing Asian countries fueling the dearth of savings in the US and other developed nations, allowing ridiculously low credit to become a crutch we never thought we would have to live without. For a more balanced global economy, Asian countries need to develop stronger domestic consumption. He went quiet and I was allowed to continue my bike ride in peace. After, Robin incredulously asked me if I had asked our guide if he knew who Paul Krugman was. Yes, and it got him to shut up, so it was mission accomplished. As we turned off the scenic route, we had to cross through a series of small villages (the guide didn’t know the names of the villages… thanks). The rain slowly let up, and the children of the village came out to see us. They ran by our bikes, yelling “Hello, how are you?” It was really cute. I gave one kid who was close enough a high five, which caused a rush of kids to come over hoping to get high fives, too. Pretty much our own ending to the Tour d’ Tam Coc, riding a victory lap. It was really fun.

We finish in the town of Tam Coc, and get lunch. Nothing fancy, just noodles and curry. Then we move on to the boating portion of the day. This involves us getting on a small rowboat with a person to paddle you through three grottos. Along the way, the scenery is amazing, the limestone cliffs again jutting out of the calm water, as if someone had come by with a knife and cut right down the middle to let the lakes sit in a limestone bowl. For some unknown reason, our guide decided to come with us. Now he wanted to sit next to Robin and chat him up. Poor guy. Had to talk with the guide for like 45 minutes until they both went silent for the remainder of the ride. The grottos were interesting, stalactites hanging from the ceiling of the caves so we had to duck to pass under. Most of the paddlers were women from the village who help with the rice in the rainy season and paddle for tourists during the down times. They also paddle with their feet, which I found very interesting since they also were able to feather the paddles as they went. Impressive. With about 15 minutes left in the ride, our paddler rips out piece of embroidery after t-shirt after souvenir keychain. This was terrible. Nowhere to go but overboard. We were both stubborn in our refusal to buy anything. After, we got out, and as I was reaching into my pocket to get my money, she yelled “Tip for me! Tip for me!” Chill, lady, that’s why I’m grabbing my wallet, not to slap you over the head with it. Man.

We piled into the van, with 6 people down (Aussie and Brit plus four Japanese who were going to Halong Bay) the van was significantly more comfortable. And the guide was just worn out so we didn’t have to listen to him anymore. Two hours later, we were in Hanoi and getting out at the first stop so we could walk back to the hotel. Anything to be out of there. For dinner, we didn’t feel like local food or going anywhere far, so we went to a pizza place. That’s all we wanted, a little Western food to make up for the crappy tour experience. It was everything we hoped for. Smoothies and pizza.

Tomorrow we are going to Halong Bay, for a real tourism experience. Should be great.

Day 14 – October 1 –Hanoi, Vietnam

Holy Crap! Crossing the street in Hanoi is like a leap of faith. One has no idea if the sea of scooters, mopeds, cars and vans will part to create a path or if one will be cut down from all sides. Traffic signals are mere suggestions, and relying on the (few) walk signals is madness. What I have learned is that one must push through in a straight line, not deviating nor stopping, and then the vehicles will create a path around you. By stopping, one confuses the driver, eliciting more horn honks. We decided to play a game at lunch, how high could we count between honks? We got to 7.

We had breakfast at the hotel and then asked the receptionist for directions. Robin asked her how to get to the lake, to which she turned to face me and asked, loudly, “WHAT?!” I was confused, was she cross-eyed or something? I said, “I’m with him, I need directions to the lake, also.” The hard faced, not very pleasant girl told us to go left out the door. Thanks. Helpful. We walked to a vegetarian café called Tamarind with an adjoining travel agency called Handspan. Handspan was a fantastic agency. There was no haggling on the prices, but the professional attitude of the staff brought confidence to your weary travelers. Dealing with travel agencies has become the most exhausting process, so these people were like a breath of fresh air. After looking at the local forecasts, we decided to push Halong Bay back one day and do the three day two night trip. The total trip was about $300, not bad for everything included, like transportation from Hanoi to Halong, except drinks. Having that booked, we walked to Cha Ca La Vong, a restaurant on the fish restaurant street, which had only one dish, Mekong riverfish with spices. I would give this place high marks for interesting concept and presentation, average marks for the food. The fish came out on a sizzling platter over an intense flame, spitting highlighter-yellow sauce every which way. Noodles, herbs and chili accompanied the fish. Altogether, it was a lot of fun, but we were not quite sure how the whole thing functioned. Stir the fish? Take it off the flame? Finally, the exasperated hostess did it for us. Turns out one takes the coaster out from beneath the contraption, puts the fish dish on it, and they take away the cooker. Thanks, I was really not going to figure that one out.

After lunch we took a cab to the Temple of Literature. A quick note on taxis in Hanoi, they suck. I was not really happy when the meter kept clicking every 10 seconds. For a five minute ride, our fare was 58,300 VND, or roughly $3.50. This made no sense compared to our earlier fares. Certain taxis can be trusted, others cannot. Consult your hotel’s concierge for the trustworthy cab companies. The Temple of Literature is a Chinese temple built as a center for Confucian teachings in 1070. The Vietnamese call this their first university (just beating out the University of Bologna which is the oldest university in Europe, founded in 1088). The architecture was nice, and I was happy to see something other than Buddhist or Hindu temples for once. The deep reds differed from the white, orange and yellow which predominate Thai and Lao temples.

Since I was still seething from our taxi to the Temple of Literature, we thought it would be fun to take a rickshaw to our next destination, the Hanoi Hilton, or prison for American pilots during the Vietnam War. A small, skinny old man lead us to his rickshaw, barely big enough to hold both Robin and me. He then took us, against traffic, on our way. We were going incredibly slow, but the waves of scooters speeding past us was disconcerting, especially when the rickshaw kept bottoming out on account of our combined weight. I was afraid the poor old man was going to have a coronary pushing us. The whole experience was hilarious. By the end, the old man was huffing and puffing, and I’m sure he was just happy we did not tip the whole rickshaw forward in the middle of the street.

The Hanoi Hilton was interesting, if only for viewing the propaganda. There was a fair share of anti-French postings and photos scattered across the interior. The French built the prison complex to incarcerate revolutionaries, and the execution room, complete with guillotine, was restored to its colonial layout. Other rooms housed exhibits on American bombing raids on Hanoi and Vietnam, as well as accounts on treatment of American POWs. Comments on walls included “American POWs were given better living conditions than the majority of Vietnamese living in Hanoi,” or “American pilots, now not dropping bombs, had to be taught skills that every Vietnamese child knew, like sweeping or sowing.” The photos on the walls were of POWs playing volleyball or celebrating Christmas. Senator McCain featured prominently in the photos and exhibits. This site cannot possibly be aimed at influencing American minds, since it is so heavily biased, but is more likely aimed at Vietnamese youths to instill a sense of moral superiority in the regime. I thought the whole experience was interesting, reinforcing my appreciation for the true freedom of press and thought we have in the Western world, and reinforcing my conviction that the press has a solemn duty to shine the harsh spotlight on government.

Upon returning to the hotel, we stopped by a travel agent nearby to book a day trip for tomorrow, biking and boating in an area called Tam Coc. Sounded like a lot of fun, but we were a bit weirded out by the agent in the shop, particularly when he quoted us $65 for a train ticket to Da Nang (our book says $35). We bought the day trip for tomorrow but held off on the train tickets. We asked a new receptionist (thank God!) for a round estimate on train tickets, to which she actually called the railway, got a price and bought the tickets for us ($29.50). We were ecstatic. Note to self: start with the hotel when booking flights or trains. We also asked her for a restaurant recommendation, since she was being so helpful. She told us about a hotel in the business district and called us a reputable taxi. She was actually awesome. We had dinner, which was fantastic. We ordered family style and ate like kings for $20, including a bottle of local red wine, although I wouldn’t recommend the bottle. Altogether, good saves by the hotel receptionist.

After dinner we walked to a bar called 17 Saloon, which Lonely planet described as a popular Western bar with live music every night. We thought getting a beer to live music would be a great change of pace. When we walked into the gaudy, brightly lit entrance, we were floored. Big long bar with scantily clothed girls walking around everywhere. Everyone wore cowboy hats and vests. When we sat at the bar, the bartender gave us a menu and asked which bottle of Hennessey we would like. Sorry, honey, two beers. We were confused, was this a wannabe Western strip club in the heart of Vietnam’s capital? The band consisted of three dudes playing keyboard, guitar and drums, and two girls singing. Honestly, they were not half bad, maybe just a quarter bad. The other three quarters were just kitsch. My favorite song was “Red Red Wine.” When the band took a break, a couple of bartenders came out and juggled flaming bottles of liquor. Overall, it was a pretty crazy sight. We had three beers each and then walked back to the hotel. I was pleased with our first day in Vietnam.

Day 13 – September 30 –Siem Reap, Cambodia – Hanoi, Vietnam

The car was supposed to pick us up at 5:00am so we could get to Angkor Wat for the sunrise. To be up, packed, showered and fed, we had to wake up at 4:15. An early morning for a truly unique experience. The rain pounded the city all night without weakening even for a minute. Wave after wave of rain fell on the corrugated metal roof of our hotel room, creating a soothing sound as we slept. The two inches of water pooling on the walkway was not soothing, however. We had the full raingear on, ready for the temples at 5 to 5am. Unfortunately, our driver hadn’t shown up, yet, as he thought no one, particularly lazy Westerners, would be mad enough to show up for sunrise at Angkor Wat in the middle of a typhoon. But, there we were, ready, willing and able. So the hotel called him, shouted at him, and we were on the road 15 minutes later.

Angkor Wat is spectacular. The temple complex, commonly referred to collectively as Angkor Wat although that is the name of only one temple, is absolutely massive with hundreds of temples from various centuries. Angkor Wat is the most amazing, built in the 11th century and as complex a structure as Versailles. When we arrived, the sky was just starting to lighten, and a busload of Japanese tourists had gotten out at the same walkway. Although the rain was coming down a little less ferociously at this point, it was still a constant precipitation which made visiting temples less appealing for the masses. Robin and I, however, thought this would be a great time to see all the temples without the hordes of tourists usually associated with the place. We had a guide, also, who explained the significance of the statues and friezes. The temples were originally built as shrines to Hindu gods but were slowly changed to Buddhist temples as the country converted. You can still see the interplay of the religions in the art around the complexes. Besides keeping away weak willed tourists, the rain also created waterfalls over the edges of most of the temples. It was a surreal sight. No one around but Robin, the guide and me, looking at 1000 year-old structures overgrown with moss and bursting with water. Along with the Grand Canyon at sunset, the Coliseum at night and the Pyramids in Egypt, this is one of the most awe-inspiring sights I have had the good fortune of seeing.

After Angkor Wat we saw Banteay Srei, also known as the “Citadel of Women” since it was built by women. It was a smaller temple, but all the reliefs were incredibly detailed and clear. The temple is a mud-red color, and dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva. The main aisle of the temple was completely flooded, under about 6 to 12 inches of water, so we got to trudge through the watery galleries while staring up at the intricate carvings. I was very impressed. Upon leaving, our guide asked us if we were hungry, and we said no. But then the driver came over and said that the guide is just being polite, he hadn’t eaten, yet. So we sat down for breakfast. Our guide inhaled his plate of noodles, it was pretty funny. Robin and I each had a banana pancake, which was scrumptious. It was more corn-like than flour based, so after one we were done.

We followed Banteay Srei with Ta Prohm, also known colloquially as the Jungle Temple or Tomb Raider Temple, since one of the Tomb Raider movies was filmed here. If Walt Disney and George Lucas got together and imagined the most fantastical, strange and foreign temple possible, you would get Ta Prohm. There were trees growing out the side of walls and on ceilings. Roots had obstructed some walls, so you could see ghostly white faces of statues or reliefs staring at you from between the roots. The normal entrance to this site was completely underwater, and industrious Cambodians were charging people $1 for a motorcycle ride across the flooded entrance walkway. Being stubborn young guys, we marched through the knee high water, savoring the effect created by the canopy of trees overhead reflected in the temporary lake all around us. It was the perfect set up to the feast for the eyes we were about to encounter. This temple was built in 1186 and dedicated to the king’s mother. It was the most crowded of all the temples, owing to the fact that it was later in the day, around 11am, but there were a minimal amount of tourists compared to non-rainy days, our guide told us. The stone walls had turned from a dull gray into a deep, verdant green from all the wet moss and grass growing on it. Water cascaded over the sides, pooling in abscesses in the rocks lining the ground. The temple was a ghost of its former glory, with stonewalls shattered from the relentless growth of tree on or around them. But the combination of towering trees, exquisite bas-reliefs and crumbling stone facades created a sensation of utter wonder and bewilderment. This could not be real, right? This must be a Hollywood fabrication! The fact that this structure was almost 850 years old makes it all the more awesome.

We finished our day at the Angkor Thom complex. Driving up to the entrance involves passing over a bridge lined by statues on one side of demons and the other by gods. These statues are 10 to 12 feet tall and number about 30 on each side. Then you drive through a large stone gate flanked by two giant nagas, or holy multiheaded snakes. The impression created by this entrance is incredible. It was like the scene in Jurassic Park when they drive through the massive front gates, full of anticipation. The first site upon entering is the Terrace of the Leper King, a large platform which was used as the royal cremation sight. The landmark derives its name from a statue which had moss growing over it and gave the statue the appearance of a leper. The original statue is now in the national museum, but a copy continues to have moss blotching its countenance. Then the Terrace of Elephants. A terrace with various carvings of warrior elephants. Pretty cool. But my favorite part was walking around the grounds of this spaced out temple complex. There were temporary and permanent lakes dotting the landscape, blocking certain paths through the complex. Our path through was not direct, we followed large arcs through the trees and skirted the lakes, savoring the reflection of the towering stone temples in the still water. We made our way slowly. We were in no rush to finish the day. The rain continued to fall and the inevitably crush of tourists failed to materialize, allowing us free reign of the thousand year old playground. The final temple was the Baphuon. It was surrounded by a large moat today, created hours before by the remnants of the typhoon, and local children were enjoying jumping off the edge of the temple into the shallow water. This temple was notable for the faces carved into the towers, one on each side of the four-sided towers. All the faces were unique, with different smiles, eyes, expressions… It allowed for some funny photo opportunities. At a certain point, I just put my camera to rest, hoping that the incessant downpour would not permanently damage the machine. But there were some shots that were just too good not to capture. I removed the raincover from my bag, pulled out my camera, unwrapped it of its cheap plastic bag enclosure, and fired off five or six shots. I bought my camera in anticipation of sights like this. I cannot wait to see if they even remotely capture the feeling this place exudes.

It was now about 3:30pm, and we knew that staying for sunset would be futile. The clouds had not dissipated and the sun was not going to break through this dense wall of moisture. Instead, we had lunch and had the driver take us to the airport for our flight to Hanoi. We bid farewell to our friends, thanking them for putting up with the typhoon for us. When we entered the airport, we took turns alternating watching the bags and changing in the bathroom. We were soaking wet, drenched. The bathroom attendants looked at us with a mixture of humor and horror. The Westerners look like they just climbed out of a pool, but they are going to empty the water all over my clean bathroom! We did not see our 7:45pm flight on the board, there was just a 9:21pm flight to Hanoi operated by Vietnam Airlines. Strange. So I asked the girl behind the desk, and she explained how our flight was the 9:21 flight, just delayed. I was amused that instead of showing the original flight and noting its delay, they just make it look like this was the original time. Fine, I’ll go with that. We sat in the airport for a couple of hours, but we passed the time with a new copy of The Economist (yes!) and a bottle of cabernet. That is right, our first bottle of wine on this trip was in the international terminal of the Siem Reap airport. We are kind of classy like that. Robin also used the time to get cable, internet and other random things set up for his new apartment in Dallas. Things are easy nowadays with the interweb and all.

We arrived in Hanoi late, and we checked into our hotel, the Golden Lotus, near the lake. Tomorrow we would decide if the weather was going to support our plans to go to Halong Bay or not. Hope it does!

Day 12 – September 29 –Phnom Penh – Siem Reap

We woke up to a gray sky, packed our raincoats and left for the day. We took a tuk-tuk to the Killing Fields about an hour outside of Phnom Penh city center.

I’ll give some background on the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot. In the early 70s, the US bombed Cambodia in conjunction with the Vietnam War, causing immense anger in the local peasant population. Cambodia was in the midst of a civil war pitting the nominally democratic Lon Nol government, backed by the US, against the Chinese backed Khmer Rouge lead by Pol Pot. In 1975, as the US withdrew from the region, the Lon Nol regime collapsed under the Khmer Rouge army. Pol Pot, educated in Paris and of privileged upbringing, instituted drastic changes across the country, purging the capital of Phnom Penh, and in fact the entire country, of former Lon Nol officials and supporters. Banks, schools and any industries not related to agriculture were destroyed. Families of these Lon Nol officials were killed, also, so as not to allow resistance or revenge to fester. But the old regime wasn’t the only target. The Khmer Rouge also wanted to remake the entire country in the image of agrarian subsistence farming, eschewing cities, family units and industry. The capital of Phnom Penh was emptied of 2 million inhabitants, families were broken apart across the country and the entire population was forced to move from their homes. Hundreds of thousands died in the forced marches or from malnutrition. Pol Pot feared another civil war, and decided to expand the purges. Soldiers within his revolutionary army where tortured and killed. People who refused to leave their homes were massacred. And anyone with an education was put to death. Most were tortured at the S-21 prison, eventually making false confessions to stop the torture. After, the victims were put on buses or trains and taken to various killing fields across the country to be murdered. An estimated 1.4- 2.0 million Cambodians were executed or died of starvation during Khmer Rouge rule.

We visited the Killing Fields outside Phnom Penh. Since the late 80s, more than 8,000 bodies have been found in various mass graves. After arriving at the center, the people were forced to dig their own graves and then murdered with various farm equipment: axes, machetes, hoes, or clubs. Children were not spared, and the smallest ones were taken to a Killing Tree, held by their legs, and swung into the tree’s trunk, head first, until their skulls collapsed. Mothers were killed with their babies in their arms. Acid and DDT were thrown on the bodies to speed up decomposition and hide the smell of rotting flesh from the neighboring communities. No one knew what was going on in the area. The soldiers running the camp had a “Magic Tree” where they would hang a loudspeaker and blast patriotic music, to muffle the cries of agony from the dying. This went on until the regime fell in 1978. The people of Cambodia built a stupa for the dead when the site was uncovered in the 80s. The stupa is a massive glass and concrete pagoda which houses thousands of skulls, bones and clothes from the victims of Pol Pot’s genocide. In the Buddhist tradition, the dead are respected by building a temple, or stupa, above the bones or ashes of the deceased. This stupa was built by the federal government to respect the dead. It was an incredibly moving experience. If anyone is interested in reading more about the Cambodian genocide, or genocide in general, Samantha Power has written a fascinating book on the subject called America in the Age of Genocide.

After, we visited the National Museum and the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda. The National Museum was actually quite interesting. I didn’t know if this was going to be a tourist trap, but it ended up having an impressive collection of statues from across Cambodia, with a particular concentration from the temples at Angkor Wat. The statues concentrate on Hindu and Buddhist subjects, like Vishnu and Buddha. It was really interesting walking around the museum. We left and moved on to the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda. We enjoyed the grounds, with glittering towers and a variety of spectacular temples. I was underwhelmed by the Silver Pagoda. It had become more of a museum for gifts given to the royal family. There was also a scale model of Angkor Wat that I enjoyed, at least for the photo op. We will be seeing Angkor Wat tomorrow, a place I am incredibly enthused about seeing.

On our way to the airport we saw a sight I was waiting patiently for, ox carts on highways. Yes, I finally saw it, buggies drawn by oxen on a large highway. I know, why would that excite me? No reason, I just like the image of scooters and SUVs zooming by ox carts. At the airport, we got on our flight early. The reason was clear, there were only 5 people on our flight, including Robin and me. The other three were Kiwis. We thought it was funny when the airline crew repeated all the instructions in Cambodian… unless you are doing it for the sake of regulations or training, no one can understand a word you are saying, so save your breath.

We landed in Siem Reap, got to our hotel, booked the following day’s tour to see the temples and left for dinner. We ate at a place called Khmer Kitchen, which was excellent. The food was traditional Cambodians, we both had curries. It was spicy, which was great. As we finished dinner, it started to rain. The beginning of Typhoon Ketsana. We settled the bill and walked back to the hotel, arriving just as the heavens were really opening to drop buckets and buckets of water on us. Tomorrow’s visits should be interesting!

Day 11 – September 28 –Vientiane, Laos – Phnom Penh, Cambodia

We are paying for our incredible day yesterday. We both woke up groggy and miserable. The warmth of the previous day’s experience was little solace to our pounding heads. We packed and prepared to check-out of our hotel, on the way to Cambodia. Unfortunately, no one at our hotel spoke much English, the credit card machine was acting up, and the car to take us to the airport had a dead battery. After I showed them how to correctly charge my visa card, Robin and I threw our stuff into the back of the car and got ready to rush to the airport. However, the driver explained the dead battery and asked us to help him push the car back a few feet so that he could jump it. We pushed the car, but this fool was steering and kept pushing on the brake. We kept smacking into the front grill of the car. Great. Eventually, after a long waste of time, he called another car, and we got to the airport.

The flight to Cambodia was uneventful, got through the visa process quickly ($20 for a single entry) and grabbed a tuk-tuk for the ride to the Bodhi Tree Umma hotel. We were very pleased with the hotel. It was small, set back amongst some trees with tables set up outside for their adjoining slow-food movement restaurant. It was also across the street from the S-21 prison, where Pol Pot’s genocidal regime imprisoned and tortured his own people. It is now a museum.

We got our stuff together and drove to the Palace and Silver Pagoda. The city of Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital, has a much larger population than anywhere we went in Laos, with poverty visible almost everywhere one looked. Kids were playing in the gutters, trash was everywhere, and the begging was much more prevalent than Thailand or Laos. But there was also a gritty realism that made me admire the city. These people had been through 30+ years of civil war, genocide, and decay, but everyone we actually interacted with was kind, with a smile on his or her face. I was legitimately moved. One of our tuk-tuk drivers asked us where we were from. After we told him the US, he turned around, smiled generously and yelled “Obama” with big thumbs up. We smiled and nodded. He pointed to his arm and said, “We like him because he is the same color we are. We think he will do well for all of us!” I’ll continue with this thought in a separate “Random Musings” so will not bore you with my thoughts here.

The Palace and Pagoda were closed by the time we arrived, so we walked up and down the river, enjoying the views. An elephant was walking among the traffic, with ecstatic children throwing him peanuts and popcorn. Cars, buggies and scooters were swerving around the mass of gray, honking and shouting. The elephant cared little for the circus going on around him. He just enjoyed his popcorn.

We stopped at a local restaurant suggested by Lonely Planet. It was, eh. Robin had the local specialty, Amok. First issue is the name. If I were going to name a national dish, I wouldn’t start with a name resembling a mess to be wiped up. But, hey, what do I know? It was local Mekong river fish steamed in banana leaves. It was not so great. I had a local curry with potatoes, which was fine. Nothing to rave about, so I won’t. We walked around for a little bit before grabbing a tuk-tuk back to the hotel. At the hotel, we decided to write in our journals and read a little bit in the patio area outside. Lanterns were hanging from the trees and the different levels of seating created a cozy ambiance. We decided to splurge a little and get smoothies (ice made with purified water, no worries) and dessert. The smoothies were great. After a pleasant end to a day of travel and car pushing, we dropped into bed, ready for tomorrow.

Day 10 – September 27 –Vientiane

Wat, Stupa, Wat, Stupa. Really, I’m kind of templed-out at this point, but I’m willing to give Vientiane a shot. We asked the concierge for directions, but his English was about as useful as my Laos… nonexistent. So we started walking. After 30 minutes or so, we got to the old quarter of Vientiane which had a good amount of French colonial architecture. It was actually quite impressive. The design was vaguely Haussmanian, with high ground floors and balconies just above that level. It was very quaint. As we wandered around that part of town, we found another Scandinavian Bakery. Impressive, it is a chain now. Good for them.

We got to Patuxay gate, which is a large concrete arch modeled after the Arc de’ Triomphe. It was constructed with cement donated by the US army to build an airport runway, explaining its modern nickname as the Vertical Runway. It took them a little longer to build that runway. The Stupa was impressive, no matter how much I wanted it to be terrible. It was massive and gold, but nothing really else. So we said, screw it, let’s go bowling.

A taxi took us out of town to a local megaplex/cinema/bowling alley/convention center around 2:00pm. It appeared to be a clothing sale, filled wall to wall with stalls selling all types of clothes. After Robin bought a t-shirt (It had his initials, “RBM,” and an awesome if not coherent collection of words beneath it) we walked upstairs to the bowling alley. It was a modern, clean bowling alley with a service desk in the middle and alleys on either side. It was huge! They also had blacklight bowling down, turning the lights low, pumping in the strobes, and blasting American hip hop. After the girl at the front desk turned us away initially, we talked our ways in, got a lane, two Beer Laos, and started bowling. It was really fun. After making a spectacle of ourselves by fistbumping and high-fiving at every spare or strike, our neighbors started to get amused. When one of our two friends next to us bowled a strike, we started giving them high-fives, too. It was fun. We were making friends, breaking 100 on the lane, and enjoying our Laos-brand bugle and prawn chips. Life is good. After four games, we were about to call it a day, when our friends next to us invited us to bowl with them. Turns out, one of the guys next to us had just graduated from university in Paris and spoke a decent amount of English. He and I spoke in French to each other and we all joined for a game on the same lane. (Note: I know what some of you might think, Kevin spoke French? Yes, as much as that nation wanted me deported, humiliated or even pushed to insanity by torturous French waiters, I did learn enough of the language to converse with a Laos national. Yes, I’m a tiny bit impressed with myself, even if it was French. And, yes, I know you might be surprised that I even acknowledge this.) Eventually, we used both lanes since more of their local friends joined us. Robin and I ended up bowling well, probably about 8 or 9 games. We both had personal bests: Robin with an impressive 158 and me with a fine 126.

At the end, we had become good friends with the local Vientiane public, and even the hard faced girl at the front desk melted and laughed with us. By that point, we were well into drunk territory. If I was being generous, I would say we were very very buzzed. We left the bowling alley around 8:00pm. 6 hours of bowling, making local friends and drinking ourselves silly was an excellent way to spend the day. We went up and paid for our bill and our friends. Total: $34. You cannot get two games of bowling, shoes and drinks for three people in New York for less than $125, so this was a friggin steal. Our friends were floored when they were told that we had paid for their games, food and drinks, also. As luck would have it, one of the guys we had been bowling with had a girlfriend who worked at the multiplex in the same center, so we all got a discount. They were so flabbergasted that we paid, that they decided to drive us through town and drop us off at our hotel. We invited them for dinner at Three Stars, but they unfortunately could not join us. After a fun ride, where we were peppered with random questions in broken English about America, New York and California, we got to our hotel and went directly to Three Stars, the restaurant from last night. Now, the place was not nearly as full or boisterous as the previous evening. The restaurant was about half full. But we got a table in the middle of the restaurant this time, and immediately ordered a number 7 and two BeerLaos. What came to us was not the same number 7 we had last night. No, instead we had what the kid next to us called, “The Spicy Plate.” He said even Lao people have issues with this dish. We were both strong and put down a considerable amount of the spicy beef with onions, peppers and noodles, enough to impress the kid next to us.

Damn, I really wanted that BBQ Beef plate from the night before. I resigned myself to finding our waiter from last night and making him tell me what we had. Remember, He spoke next to no English. I walked around the restaurant, looking for our friend, who I’ll call Our Buddy. I did find him, sitting at a table in civilian clothes with two friends. Tact was not possible tonight, as I was drunker than I’ve been in a while. I grabbed him, started to motion to our table, and convinced him and one of his friends to join us. Using sign language, I was able to get him to order the dish we had the night before, albeit seafood and not beef. Still, really really good. We bought a round for all our friends and talked to them as best we could. I was trying to tell Our Buddy that I liked the song that was playing, so I broke out my iPod and pointed with thumbs up. He pointed to that and then to me and said “LA!” I said yeah, LA! He then said, “You DJ.” What the hell, I went with it. I told Our Buddy that I was a dj in LA, and he thought it was incredibly cool. He grabbed the proprietor or the shift manager or someone and he took me, Robin and Our Buddy’s friend to another room in the restaurant. It was their nightclub/karaoke lounge. He puts on the strobe lights and colored lights and started pumping an Akon song, giving me a microphone. So I started shouting the song into the mic, drawing a bit of a crowd (not for good reasons). I imagine it sounded similar to cats repeatedly being run over by a train.

So, after making some Lao friends, posting a personal bowling best, drinking myself silly and rocking the hippest club in Vientiane, we retired for the evening. It was probably the most eventful non-event I can remember. We had an amazing time and I don’t think our new friends will forget us anytime soon.

Tomorrow, Phnom Penh and, most definitely, a hangover.