VIETNAM!

VIETNAM!!!
Continued the birthday fun with easy, glitch-free travels between Don’s, the airport, and Ben’s place in Hanoi (30 mins and $10 by cab). On the import prohibition list: “…children’s toys having negative effects on personality development, social order and security.” Hah!

Tuesday morning, Sandra took me out for Pho, or breakfast noodles at a little store nearby. Most yummy! This little trip involved crossing the street, which is an experience unto itself. The motorbike traffic never really eases up, so you wait for a moment of the somewhat lighter version, then step out and proceed slowly but steadily…hold yer course! Miraculously, the flow will move around you.

After breakfast, I explored the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum (lots of photos with Vietnamese who wanted one with the westerner), Museum (odd collection of HCM stuff and random modern art/industry exhibits…tons of documents and info), One Pillar Pagoda (designed to resemble a lotus blossom rising out from a sea of sorrow, no less) and grounds before meeting Ben for lunch. We ate at Koto, where disadvantaged kids are trained in the restaurant/service industry and helped with job placement afterwards. More yumminess, and we talked about the game plan for the upcoming week.

Across the street (whew—made it!) was the Temple of Literature (dedicated to Confucius to honor scholars, five separate courtyards and 82 stelae atop stone tortoises to record those who received doctorates), and across another street (whoosh!) was the Museum of Fine Arts (all kinds of traditional Vietnamese art), so I hit those. Then I meandered over to Hoan Kiem Lake (gorgeous!) and saw the emblematic Tortoise Tower and the Jade House Temple, both in the middle of the lake, the latter reached by Rising Sun footbridge.

Onward to a recommended travel agency for info, then shopped around to get a feel for prices (pre- and post-haggling) on traditional souvenir-type goodies before meeting Sandra and Mister Ben (as she very cutely calls him) at home for dinner plans. I foolishly did not pack my flip-flops or other equally ventilated footwear, so S lent me a pair, which I ended up wearing several times during my stay—now that’s a hostess! We ate on the same small street where S and I had eaten breakfast, and sat on (ubiquitous) little plastic chairs at (they’re everywhere!) little plastic tables for a feast of fresh clams, shrimp, veggies and noodles. So good, so very cheap—not that I was allowed to pay for much. The custom is to switch tables after the meal for tea—which won’t happen if you’re just a tourist. After dinner we had wine and fruit back at the apartment and hung out chatting for a while.

So the first day was quite full! It’s quite humid and warm in Hanoi, but apparently I got the mild version of it. Still, I never got by with fewer than 2 showers (of course, I was walking around outside most days). The traffic is an assault on the senses—a sight to see, incessant honking to hear, the proximity of the chaos to feel…I couldn’t actually smell the exhaust, but I can’t imagine the air was terribly clean. I saw several instances of families of four on one motorbike, and outrageous loads on others and also on bicycles. It’s a free-for-all, but it works. It’s not aggressive, in spite of the honking. It’s just assumed that there’s room for all and everyone is allowed into the flow. Just don’t make any sudden moves…

The conical hats we all associate with Vietnam are indeed everywhere, and especially atop the iconic women carrying two crazily full bamboo baskets from poles (which most western men can’t lift). There are plenty of other fabulous smells, as food is always being freshly prepared, seemingly everywhere. The seafood in markets is still alive, barely dead meat is butchered on the spot, traditional foods are available streetside around most corners, especially in the Old Quarter.

I found myself comparing everything to what I knew in Korea, in terms of people, food, customs, behavior. It was weird to be amongst Asians and yet unable to use the vocab I’d picked up over the last months. Back to square one on language! The Vietnamese don’t push or spit the way Koreans do, and they aren’t afraid to use the English they know, no matter how little that may be. Koreans serve rice with most meals, and always finish it, as it is a reminder of what was the only food available in times of hardship. Vietnamese serve rice at the end of a meal, because a host wants his guests to fill up on the more expensive foods; if you have to ask for more rice, it means you haven’t been fed enough of the good stuff.

Wednesday I hit the road early, hoping to join a tour that day (turns out they couldn’t take me until the next day, not b/c there wasn’t room but b/c they had to report their numbers the day before), but instead made the reservation for the next day and went to bring my stuff back to the apartment…except that I shopped on the way home—it’s really impossible not to be drawn in by all the stuff—so it took me until lunchtime. All well and good, though, as I’d planned to make it my shopping day if I didn’t get on the tour. I haggled well and got some fun stuff for cheap-o-rama, dropped it off, made a tentative evening plan w/Sandra, and went out to new market territory.

S and B directed me to the nearby Cho Hang Da, where the vibe was completely different from most of the stores in the Old Quarter. It was a 3-story open building, with all kinds of stuff (mostly ceramics, food and clothes) crammed in. The (mostly) women seemed more in need of doing business and were more touchy, which somehow was not bothersome (that would usually drive me away). I got lots of “first customer” pleas (the first customer brings good luck), which I could actually believe, despite the hour, given the traffic (zero tourists, and the locals already have or can’t afford ceramics/bamboo/etc.). I could have been getting suckered, but I’m pretty wary in that department and it didn’t feel like it. And if they’re just that good at sales, well, hats off to ‘em! I paced myself and bought a little bit from a bunch of the ceramics stalls (hey, they had swishy-fishy stuff…), and looked around upstairs at the clothes and tons of material for sale. I let a young woman talk me into her making a silk shirt for me, figuring that $11 bucks was a small risk for a possibly nice piece of clothing and a probably good cultural experience, and agreed that I’d return on Sunday to pick it up and complete the payment.

En route to Cho Dong Xuan, another market, I sampled some fun street foods and crossed as many streets as possible, ‘cuz it just gets fun once you get the hang of it. I learned to deflect the “Hellooooo! Wooohooo! Motorbike? Motorbike? MOTORBIKE?” hollers of the zillions of motorbike taxis that can spot a single tourist from miles away, through buildings and around corners. The salespeople also see ya coming and start their calls of “Madame! Madame! Madame!” (an interesting remnant of French colonialism) as soon as you’re within earshot. Accumulated more there, then wandered my way through other temples and pagodas and St. Joseph’s cathedral before getting back to the apartment.

It turned out that there were unclaimed tickets that S and B had via an embassy friend to a concert, and Sandra had to work, so Ben and I hopped on their scooter (eeek! But fun! And I didn’t yell! Okay, I giggled a lot…) and went to a Bia Hoi joint (cheap beer, food on little plastic stools) with a friend before the show—the Jessie Dayton band, from Texas. Pretty odd to be hearing country blues in Vietnam…and TV cameras were everywhere and getting their fill of the audience—Ben assured me that the footage will be widely aired, as Vietnamese TV is limited…so I’ve now been on both Korean and Vietnamese television. Hah! Good show, though, and fun to do a non-touristy night on the town. Sat around, tore S from her work and shot the poop over a few beers.

Thursday, got up early with my packed bag and crossed town to meet my group for a 3-day, 2-night tour of Halong Bay, east of Hanoi. We were a merry band of ten, plus our tour guide, Khang, beginning the trip with a 2 ½-hour bus ride to Halong City. The three Canadian Blacklaws: mother Carol (teacher), pop Rick (photographer, et. al.) and 15-yr-old (going on 45) Caitlin (they pull their kids out of school once for a 6-month travel/home school experience—how great is that?), their Aunt Bobbie Beal (a Texan going strong and lovely at 70, who sometimes reminded me a little of my Aunt Helen), mom-and-daughter team Karen and Rachel Thurston (American Middle-Eastern-dance teacher and photographer/writer/singer in Arizona/Santa Barbara; Rachel is my age), hilarious Belgian Ludovic (hmmm, don’t have his last name…he’s between University and the job that starts next month), two Germans who were very nice but mostly kept to themselves, as they live far apart and have little time together, and me. We all could not have gotten along better, which made for a fantastic trip.

We made one “happy stop” en route, which was a store/snack spot with lots of stuff for sale made (supposedly) by children. Pricey and contrived, but it was good to pee… Once at the harbor, we stocked up on water, snacks and beer while they processed our passport info, then boarded our boat, Cahn Buom. On our way out of the harbor, we were served a scrummy lunch of fish, pork and veggies, spring rolls and fruit. Pleasantly full, we hit the deck to witness the stunning limestone karsts jutting from the water for which Halong Bay is famous. And more and more of them…they go on and on, as in over 3000 in about 1500 sq km (a World Heritage site, and with good reason). Lots of tour boats are out, too, but they’re all pretty nifty wooden crafts that add to the scenery. “Ha long” means “where the dragon descends into the sea”; legend has it that a dragon that lived in the mountains ran to the sea and its flailing tail carved everything up.

We passed one karst with a cool house on top—Titov island, named after a Russian pilot that landed there with Ho Chi Minh—en route to Hang Sung Sot, a three-chambered cave of stalactites and stalagmites created by water eroding the limestone. These caves are lit up for the tourists but otherwise are uncluttered and very impressive. There are several images to be found in the formations, and Khang pointed some out. We felt like we were on set for “Lord of the Rings” and did some fun Golem impressions.

Post-cave, we motored away before anchoring for some pre-dinner swimming. Vietnamese women in boats laden with western snackfoods and drinks follow the tour boats from the caves and linger to pester the passengers when anchored—even swimming! We’d been told to say “no,” otherwise they’d NEVER leave us alone (but the Oreos were tempting…). After a refreshing dip and shower, I saw an ENORMOUS jellyfish—about 2 feet in diameter! Supposedly it hurts like hell when they sting, but won’t kill you. Yeah, so any swimming thereafter was preceded by a round-the-boat scout and paying good and close attention to what was ahead of us. Yeeesh.

Dinner was again great: chicken soup, fries (!), crabs (I passed), sprouts, chicken fingers around a hollowed-out pineapple with a candle inside, corn, fish, and watermelon. Not too shabby. We sat in the lounge chairs on deck and shared stories of travels, careers, family, arts, languages, and random stories. An excellent team of travelers!

I slept like a rock in my cabin—two twin beds, nightstand, head w/shower. There were 8 guest cabins total on the main deck; we used 6. The dining room and deck chairs were on the upper deck. I had good intentions of getting up to see the sunrise, but sleepiness won out.

We awoke to the sight of the karsts at low tide, when the effects of erosion at the waterline are visible: from the high-tide mark down, they slant inward at about a 30-degree angle, and caves of different sizes (and the beginnings of what will someday be caves) can be seen. Wow!

We feasted on a breakfast of fruits, bread, cheese, jam and coffee, then transferred to another boat with kayaks. After a brief lesson from Khang, we boarded our two-man kayaks (I went with Ludovic, and we had a great time alternating between unadulterated awe of our surroundings and being in the middle of it all, silliness, and bone-dry witticisms. Perfect!).

We paddled around the karsts, into nooks and crannies, over fingery red coral dancing in the tide, under arches and into lagoons (where we demonstrated our skills with various animal calls amidst the echoey limestone, and I shocked myself by remembering all the lyrics to the “Gilligan’s Island” theme song).

Khang brought us to a fish farm, which is basically a hut on a raft with a bunch of sectioned-off netted areas, divided by walkways of two-by-fours. Dogs patrol for thieves. He knew the guys (hopefully has a deal with them that involves their getting paid), and we were allowed to walk around and see some of the HUGE grouper and smaller snapper ‘tanks.’ So unlike western tourism: no railings, no protective anything. You fall in (no one did), you pull yourself out. Same in Korea, though.

We reboarded the kayak boat for lunch: spring rolls, tuna with ginger, fries, greens, grilled tofu. We hung out for a while to digest and chat, then swam to a nearby beach where we investigated the shell-rock-coral scene. Unfortunately, the shoes I’d just bought and brought with me had broken, so I sort of dragged one shoe around to kindof keep it under my foot, which didn’t make for great walking. I spotted a piece of china in the sand, and it turned out to be a whole, unchipped, handpainted plate, which the tour guide agreed that it would be appropriate for me to keep (alas, it was accidentally thrown away by the crew—I was heartbroken!).

Our next stop was “Monkey Beach,” and Bobbie lent me her extra sandals for the trip (my vacation of shoe-borrowing!), which was good because we had a little climb atop spiky rocks. It was really touristy, and the whole monkey aspect was depressing: they live there, but are lured out with apples and other snacks for the tourists’ entertainment. I think we only went there because we couldn’t kayak into another cave due to the tides not being in our favor.

We boated off to another area for kayaking, and paddled through a huge fishing village (1,000+ people). This was truly the highlight of the trip for me. It was absolutely mind-blowing to see witness a lifestyle and community that are so drastically different in so many ways from anything I’d ever even known about, let alone experienced. Each farm had the layout of two-by-fours, some more expansive than others, as well as its own dogs (all healthy-looking, and probably lucky pooches in Vietnam, as they perform a function and are worth keeping alive). The women were all in traditional dress, with the conical hats and covered faces. Huge rowboats, propelled by a standing oarsman who pushes the oars to move forward, passed through the “streets,” and small motorboats bring kids to school (probably only through 3rd or 4th grade) on a nearby island.

The houses, rafts, and boats were all shades of blue, green and red, to complement the landscape, and the planks were natural, weathered wood. Being in the kayak, so close to the water and just below their homes, essentially passing by their front doors, was an indescribable experience. We felt as if we were invading and yet they were so clearly used to tourists, who probably come through several times a day, every day. We wondered if they still appreciate the stunning beauty, and what they have--or, more likely, haven’t--seen beyond that…probably not even Hanoi. We’re not sure what they may have seen on TV from Cat Ba or Halong City. Whew. Have a little perspective. I was so glad not to have seen photos of this community before seeing it live, because it was all the more impressive.

We kayaked to Cat Ba Island and unloaded our gear from our boat that had followed us. We were shuttled to our hotel (very nice, with gorgeous views—probably majorly luxurious by Vietnamese standards) and had two hours to relax before dinner. I settled in, stretched, and went for a walk along the main (SO touristy) drag, past all the identical souvenir stands, before dinner.

We gathered on the terrace of our hotel restaurant for another big meal of soup, prawns, greens, squid (tender and non-fishy, like none I’ve ever had!), fruit and beers. Great conversations, including a lesson on how exactly to pronounce our guide’s name…apparently we’d been calling him “cave” and “whore” instead of what his name really means: “prosperity.” Silly Vietnamese pronunciations… So we all formed new aspirations of finding prosperity in a cave with a whore… Several of us went back to wander the streets for a while before bed. I was determined to get up early and run before our 8am checkout time…

…and I did! Whew, talk about humid! I ran around for an hour and at least saw some of the island beyond the tourist-trap areas, but was sad that we didn’t have a day there to hike in the national park. Sigh. I got back to the hotel, dripping wet and bright red, to many of the staff’s great consternation. Showered (twice, as the first one didn’t take…) and brought all my stuff to breakfast (‘western’) so I could check out right afterward.

We were shuttled to back to the port, but our boat wasn’t there; something was wrong with the engine…so another one was summoned and arrived within the half hour. We set out again amongst the karsts, on the sunniest day we’d had (the others had been a little overcast/hazy, but still nice), and anchored for a last swim before lunch. The water looked much more tropically aquamarine in the sunshine, and we enjoyed our final dip of the trip, scoring each other’s dives and leaps in.

Arriving back at Halong City, we took a quick ride to a nearby restaurant, complete with live traditional music on cool traditional instruments. Another feast. Ooof! We rolled back into the van and hit the road, savoring the last of our time together. We made one quick stop to pee and buy snacks (?!) before returning to the Handspan office, where we sadly bid each other farewell and safe travels.

I bought a few souvenirs on the way back to the apartment, where Ben and Sandra and two friends (Julie and John) were having a glass of wine and awaiting my return for dinner. I showered (4th of the day) and we hopped in a cab and went to Highway 4, a hip spot with cool food (catfish rolls!)…and of course LOTS of food. Pacing of dining in Vietnam is an artform that I did not master on this trip.

We returned to the apartment building for a party that was being hosted by a newly-arrived Embassy employee and I had fascinating conversations with expats of mostly the diplomatic/military variety, all of whom had really interesting backgrounds. People who live in foreign countries are a different breed! I like them! Several of them had seen EV on TV, which was hilarious. We stayed there quite late, drank a lot, went back to the apartment, hung out and drank more… oy!

Sunday morning, I got up and showered, thinking that the bike ride Ben and I had planned was a little cross-towner. Hah! We set out on their mountain bikes for the northern end of Hanoi, and I managed to not scream and to successfully merge into and out of traffic, with Ben’s help (and not everyone emerges unscathed from adventures with Ben). As with crossing the street, you just have to keep a steady course and be part of the flow. The speed is slow—maybe 15mph max—in the city, so on a bike you’re moving at the same speed as everyone else. They’ve raised the art of the merge to a new level. It’s amazing to experience it all, and that the ‘system’ generally works. The most difficult thing was learning that the space to my right was NOT available as a buffer zone that I could float into, as I’m used to—there’s passing on all sides at all times. I learned that good and fast. It’s not aggressive, though, i.e. no cutting people off or road rage. Everyone is perfectly unperturbed by the vehicular crowding and the mere inches of available space to either side at any given time. A small conquest…

We crossed part of a bridge that was closed to 4-wheeled vehicles, then descended a stairway onto an island of farmland. We followed a path to the far end, amidst small fields of corn, cucumbers, herbs and we-knew-not-what, past oxen and other beasts of burden and the various rickety contraptions they pulled or carried. We came back via the riverbed on the other side of the island, and Ben called to a boatman who was on the other side. He putted over and Ben negotiated a price for our return trip (probably about 30 cents each for the 100-yard journey). On the other side, we climbed the embankment and remounted for a tour of the flower market and specialty restaurant (dog meat) district, among other sights, before stopping at a trendy waterside restaurant for a lunch of drinks of fruity goodness and western-type sandwiches.

We braved the traffic again and got home, dirty, sweaty, but safe, showered up and set out for the rest of the day. I went to pick up the shirt I was having made (I also got my shoe fixed, plus a new pair of the same in a different color, plus both reinforced where they might not have been properly sewn, all for about $5) and to do some other shopping en (long and windy) route to the American Club, where Ben was playing in a volleyball tournament. It was nice to hang out and drink beer on a Sunday afternoon outside, watching westerners swat at a ball on a dirt court.

In the early evening, I left them and went to the water puppet show, which had been on my list of to-dos in Hanoi. It’s an ancient art form, possibly begun during times of flood, that was revived in the ‘60s, and there’s a theatre dedicated to and specifically designed for it. Wooden puppets are manipulated with bamboo poles under water by puppeteers (who go through years of training) in waist-deep water. The show was fun, playful, beautiful and magical. The music, both instrumental and vocal, was a highlight. The space wasn’t very well designed, alas, as everything takes place at the level of the stage ‘floor,’ and the audience was barely raked. It especially sucks when a BAD tourist (Indian, in this case) decides to record the performance by holding his camera up in the sightline of anyone behind him. Duh.

Post-show, I bought a puppet at a store next door, then took a cyclo ride (had to do it once—you ride in a seat in front of the pedalpusher) home with a chatty ‘driver.’ I showered again and had dinner with B&S and many friends at an art gallery/restaurant, then went to bed after starting to figure out how to pack up all my loot.

Monday I got up early for a day tour to the Perfume Pagoda. It began annoyingly, with the van picking me up alone first at 7:30 outside the closed agency, with no one or anything to assure me that I was in the right place (the van was late), then stopping around the city for an hour (right past the apartment) before actually leaving central Hanoi. A LOUD group of three guys from Holland proved to be badly-behaved tourists and a hassle, wanting to stop back at their hotel to arrange for visas, and yammering loudly in Dutch for the entire 2-hour trip to My Duc. I strategized to not be the fourth in their boat for the one-hour trip (we were in a shallow, flat-bottomed rowboat, helmed by a small woman in a floral-print shirt pushing the oars), and had a good conversation with James and Jodi, a Brit and Canadian traveling before moving from London to Vancouver.

The ride was gorgeous and serene, with lush green landscapes and Vietnamese going about fishing chores in various craft. We landed at Huong Tich Mountain (Mountain of Fragrant Traces), where we were accosted by vendors. We were given the option of riding a newly-installed cable car or hiking to the top, and of course I chose the latter. James and Jodi rode, as they’d been hiking all week, so I hiked by myself, which was exactly what I wanted to do, anyway. I resisted the urge to beat the Dutch guys to the top, let them go ahead, and took my time taking photos and enjoying the scenery.

The path was 2.5k up on stone (I was glad it only sprinkled, as it would have been extremely slippery in full-on rain), and while it was humid, it was a bit overcast and not nearly as hot as it could have been. We were also lucky in that it was a Monday and we had the place pretty much to ourselves, which apparently is the opposite of the norm. At least half of the souvenir stalls along the way were closed (and there were MANY), no begging kids followed me, I saw few other people and had a generally quiet and pleasant hike. When I got to the main grotto/shrine/cave (down many steps from mountain top), I was the only one there, and I had 15 or 20 minutes alone to enjoy the misty magicality, rock formations and shrines.

I took the cable car down for the view, and secondarily because the return trip, down lots of steep and uneven steps, would have been less fun than the trip up. The cars weren’t running when I got to the entrance, as there was no one to ride it. They started it up just for me, and one of the operators hopped on to practice his English with the white girl—his friends at the bottom were very congratulatory.

I joined my tour group for a big (surprise) lunch of tofu, fish (too bony), fried sweet potatoes, spring rolls, pork and veggies, greens and rice. Then we all went to the nearby Huong Tich Pagoda, which was a bunch of shrines and statues. We didn’t have nearly as long there as we’d have liked, as there were many things to see, read, and photograph, but we were herded back to the docks for the return trip.

So, while the hike was good and the shrines were interesting, the tour was hugely unimpressive, especially after the Handspan trip. The guide was hung over, didn’t speak much English, didn’t go to the top with us to talk about the main shrine (and told us what little he knew about it afterwards, at lunch, when we couldn’t apply what he was telling us to what we were looking at), and was generally uninspired. Oh well.

We got home w/o ado, and I packed up my stuff as best as I could before having dinner with S&B and a friend of hers who was visiting on business from…Malaysia?...at an upscale French restaurant. I had to be very sneaky to pay the bill, as I’d not been allowed to open my wallet for most of the trip. But I got my way!

I finished cramming all my stuff into bags (good thing I’d bought one!), said goodbye and took the cab that was waiting for me to the airport for an uneventful flight home from 11:30 pm Vietnam time until 5-something am Korea time, losing 2 hours on the way. I was tired! But what a great trip (if too short…there was much I would have liked to add to the itinerary), and especially to have time with B&S individually and all together and to meet their friends and get a little glimpse of what their life there is like. It’s so cool that they speak the language fluently and fun to feel in the know about non-touristy things and perspectives. And their next post, in Beijing, sounds really interesting and perfect for Ben.

It was a strange relief to emerge to a more (if barely so) familiar language, and to speak enough of it to do what I needed to, ward off the taxi drivers, and appear as if I knew my way around the systems. And the air was cool and dry! On the down side, I was back to the land of pushing and hawking up phlegm…and unpredictable buses. I had planned to spend most of the day at a spa (where we’d gone on our retreat), instead of heading back to EV immediately. Unfortunately, the bus I took that usually goes past it, took an alternate route, and I lost about two hours in getting there. But get there I did, and enjoyed sleeping in different rooms, fruity drinks, a workout, hot tubs, cold tubs, saunas and steamrooms and general lolling about (which I’d never do unless I was that exhausted) before returning to EV. And it was weird to be back…home, but not quite, and I wasn’t all that happy to be back (except for the great people, several of whom I saw before I got to my room). But I’d had a great trip and was refreshed, so I was hoping for the best. Hooray for travel!