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.
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