It's funny, when I was writing from Vietnam, the count of people who read the blog was sometimes high, often more than 20 and once 34 people actually read it! That was amazing. The tally for the Wrap-Up blog was only 5. Yes, I mainly write for myself, but 5? Honestly?
Sad.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Now what?
Thank you to everyone who has been asking about the blog. After being in a foreign country and seeing new things and being excited to share my observations of it all, the current state of "being at home" holds little or no relevance right now. In other words, there just isn't anything to write about.
Yes, there are the holidays. Yes, there is the end of the year. Yes, there is the job. None of these things inspire me to sit down and type about them. Nothing about these things is new or exciting or even very interesting. So I find myself in a conundrum: I want to write but it seems forced or silly or pointless.
If I was Jon Carroll, writing a column for the SF Chronicle, I could definitely spin something about how the two dogs that live with me today unwrapped and ate an entire box of dog cookies while Jenn and I were at our respective jobs. Carroll writes about his cats, dogs would be fair game. But who wants to read about wayward dogs? Or I could spin a good story about people at the hotel, some craziness that happened there over the holidays, but it's too trite for words. And on and on.
When I came home from Vietnam it was late on a Monday, so effectively a Tuesday. A week later it was Tuesday and Christmas Eve. A few days from now it will be the end of the year. Maybe the thing to do is to wait until January 1st, let the rest of this year rot away and not talk about it. Because, honestly, other than the trip to Vietnam, crab and champagne for Christmas Eve with the kids and some interaction with a few friends throughout the year, it has been a year of petulant mediocrity. Maybe I should read some of this year's past blogs, see if they sound as whining as I think they would. Yes, I read some really good books and saw some really good movies and ate some delicious food and drank a few bottles of excellent wine and whiskey and was dazzled a couple of times by extraordinary sunrises and was almost awed by the power of nature and yes, I laughed a lot, was healthy, logged probably more than 500 miles (hmmm, I should get a pedomter for 2014) walking the dogs, moved into a bigger house, won $11 in the lottery, had a couple of nice road trips, but really, nothing much happened.
But I guess some things did. Right now they feel small and insignificant. Let me ruminate upon them and try and uncover their significance and I will get back to you. Soon.
I promise. And just so you know, I bought a lottery ticket tonight. It's my early NY resolution: buy one every Saturday. I have committed to all the charities I support that I will give at least 10% of my winnings (over $100) to those charities and I mean it. So I have a lot of saints and good karma causes behind me in my Lottery Winning Quest and I intend to win at least one big one this year. (Big meaning anything over $10,000 but I would readily tone that down to $1,000 if it increased my odds.) I just want enough money to pay the rent for a month or two, or buy a new computer or take my daughter and brother Steve out to dinner. Small things.
As the song says, "wishing and hoping, planning and scheming..."
Yes, there are the holidays. Yes, there is the end of the year. Yes, there is the job. None of these things inspire me to sit down and type about them. Nothing about these things is new or exciting or even very interesting. So I find myself in a conundrum: I want to write but it seems forced or silly or pointless.
If I was Jon Carroll, writing a column for the SF Chronicle, I could definitely spin something about how the two dogs that live with me today unwrapped and ate an entire box of dog cookies while Jenn and I were at our respective jobs. Carroll writes about his cats, dogs would be fair game. But who wants to read about wayward dogs? Or I could spin a good story about people at the hotel, some craziness that happened there over the holidays, but it's too trite for words. And on and on.
When I came home from Vietnam it was late on a Monday, so effectively a Tuesday. A week later it was Tuesday and Christmas Eve. A few days from now it will be the end of the year. Maybe the thing to do is to wait until January 1st, let the rest of this year rot away and not talk about it. Because, honestly, other than the trip to Vietnam, crab and champagne for Christmas Eve with the kids and some interaction with a few friends throughout the year, it has been a year of petulant mediocrity. Maybe I should read some of this year's past blogs, see if they sound as whining as I think they would. Yes, I read some really good books and saw some really good movies and ate some delicious food and drank a few bottles of excellent wine and whiskey and was dazzled a couple of times by extraordinary sunrises and was almost awed by the power of nature and yes, I laughed a lot, was healthy, logged probably more than 500 miles (hmmm, I should get a pedomter for 2014) walking the dogs, moved into a bigger house, won $11 in the lottery, had a couple of nice road trips, but really, nothing much happened.
But I guess some things did. Right now they feel small and insignificant. Let me ruminate upon them and try and uncover their significance and I will get back to you. Soon.
I promise. And just so you know, I bought a lottery ticket tonight. It's my early NY resolution: buy one every Saturday. I have committed to all the charities I support that I will give at least 10% of my winnings (over $100) to those charities and I mean it. So I have a lot of saints and good karma causes behind me in my Lottery Winning Quest and I intend to win at least one big one this year. (Big meaning anything over $10,000 but I would readily tone that down to $1,000 if it increased my odds.) I just want enough money to pay the rent for a month or two, or buy a new computer or take my daughter and brother Steve out to dinner. Small things.
As the song says, "wishing and hoping, planning and scheming..."
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Wrap Up
When I was in Vietnam, I loved coming back to my room and telling about my day, what I had seen, tasted, heard, felt. It was important to me to get it down in words, to keep it near me, somehow. That's what writing does for me, I guess, chronicles the experience.
But now I have been home for almost a week and I haven't kept in touch, and I promised myself I would write something every day, or at least every two days. Not that I expect people out there to read it all, or any of it, but for the exercise in writing. To that goal, here I am, back again.
A couple of things I wanted to share about the trip. First, given that everyone in the world makes certain noises come out of their mouths, no matter what language they are speaking, it is no wonder that occasionally those sounds morph into phrases that sound familiar. In listening to Vietnamese for two weeks and understanding nothing, there were some phrases that I heard over and over. You will think I am crazy, but here are some I heard: "welcome back, guy" was the first one I noticed, so it must be some Vietnamese words that people say a lot that sounds like that phrase. The first time I heard it, I actually looked around for whoever was saying it. The second time I heard it I thought I was going nuts. The third time I finally figured out what was happening, and laughed at myself.
"I got the Velveeta" was another phrase I heard several times. I know they have no Velveeta there, so it's just syllables running together that sound like that, but it was rather strange. And "that morning jacket" was another one, and variations on that, like "he got that morning jacket" and "he ate that morning jacket". Seriously, a morning jacket, what could that be?
So I had fun with the language I couldn't understand. There were a lot of phrases with "tea leaves" as well, and "no way" was said quite often. "No way" makes sense, sound-wise. "Morning jacket" not so much.
Second, the food. People ask me what I ate and how it was. I ate several bowls of pho bo, their national dish (supposedly) of beef and noodle soup. Delicious and cheap. If you were brave and ate the street food, you can get a big bowl for $1.00 US. One dollar. I ate a lot of spring rolls, both fried and fresh, with pork, seafood or vegetables. Lots of salads of shredded vegetables or noodles with rice wine dressings, very tasty. One great dish of pasta, one delicious beef and fried noodles (more like stir-fry), two bad meals, one over-priced mediocre meal and the rest were good to very good. Great fruit and fruit juices, delicious and cheap beer. The breakfasts at the hotels were also very good, albeit strange sometimes. All in all, the food was quite fine.
Third, just a few words (probably redundant) about traveling alone. Over the past 10-15 years I have travelled rather extensively throughout Europe, through California and to the Midwest of America with my friend Tom. He was (and is) a great traveling companion and with few exceptions (sorry, Amsterdam) we always had fun and things went very smoothly. This trip to Vietnam was the first time I traveled to a totally foreign country by myself. I learned two very important lessons: 1) it is harder than I thought and 2) it is more liberating than I imagined.
Even planning a journey is easier with a second person, someone who can toss itineraries around and someone who has different ideas about where to go and what to see. When you are going to a brand new country, you just don't know how it's all going to work out. Doing it alone, you are never quite sure you are making the right decisions. Then when you are actually there, it is still difficult to figure out where to go, where to eat, which street to take, how to navigate the train station. Not to mention that there is no one (except the computer) to share all those strange experiences with as they happen. It's isolating in many ways.
But the good thing is that you don't have to take anyone else into consideration. I could wear the same shirt every day, I could look hot and sweaty and yucky, I could hide in my room for a day and not talk to anyone, no one cared! I wasn't ruining anyone else's day by getting hopelessly lost and wasting a lot of time finding my way back. If the museum was too crowded, I didn't have to be cranky standing in line, I could just walk away. I could get up early or sleep in late, no one was waiting on me.
I missed the laughing at stupid things (like getting lost) and the companionship, especially at dinner. I missed putting two heads together to figure out what to do and when. I missed having a pal around. But when I chose to go to Vietnam, one of the reasons I picked that country was because it was brand new and it was outside of my comfort zone, and because it was a solo journey. Would Tom have liked it? Yes. But I liked it just fine by myself, too. It's just a different way to travel and sometimes different is good.
I am going to figure out how to get some of the photos I took onto this blog. The computer I am using right now doesn't want to import the photos from the memory card. I probably need to use a different computer, so stay tuned for that. Thanks again to everyone who followed the blog. It was nice to know so many people were reading it. I want to single out Gil for responding so often to what I was reporting. He knows the country and gave me advice along the way. Thanks for that!
Til next time.....
But now I have been home for almost a week and I haven't kept in touch, and I promised myself I would write something every day, or at least every two days. Not that I expect people out there to read it all, or any of it, but for the exercise in writing. To that goal, here I am, back again.
A couple of things I wanted to share about the trip. First, given that everyone in the world makes certain noises come out of their mouths, no matter what language they are speaking, it is no wonder that occasionally those sounds morph into phrases that sound familiar. In listening to Vietnamese for two weeks and understanding nothing, there were some phrases that I heard over and over. You will think I am crazy, but here are some I heard: "welcome back, guy" was the first one I noticed, so it must be some Vietnamese words that people say a lot that sounds like that phrase. The first time I heard it, I actually looked around for whoever was saying it. The second time I heard it I thought I was going nuts. The third time I finally figured out what was happening, and laughed at myself.
"I got the Velveeta" was another phrase I heard several times. I know they have no Velveeta there, so it's just syllables running together that sound like that, but it was rather strange. And "that morning jacket" was another one, and variations on that, like "he got that morning jacket" and "he ate that morning jacket". Seriously, a morning jacket, what could that be?
So I had fun with the language I couldn't understand. There were a lot of phrases with "tea leaves" as well, and "no way" was said quite often. "No way" makes sense, sound-wise. "Morning jacket" not so much.
Second, the food. People ask me what I ate and how it was. I ate several bowls of pho bo, their national dish (supposedly) of beef and noodle soup. Delicious and cheap. If you were brave and ate the street food, you can get a big bowl for $1.00 US. One dollar. I ate a lot of spring rolls, both fried and fresh, with pork, seafood or vegetables. Lots of salads of shredded vegetables or noodles with rice wine dressings, very tasty. One great dish of pasta, one delicious beef and fried noodles (more like stir-fry), two bad meals, one over-priced mediocre meal and the rest were good to very good. Great fruit and fruit juices, delicious and cheap beer. The breakfasts at the hotels were also very good, albeit strange sometimes. All in all, the food was quite fine.
Third, just a few words (probably redundant) about traveling alone. Over the past 10-15 years I have travelled rather extensively throughout Europe, through California and to the Midwest of America with my friend Tom. He was (and is) a great traveling companion and with few exceptions (sorry, Amsterdam) we always had fun and things went very smoothly. This trip to Vietnam was the first time I traveled to a totally foreign country by myself. I learned two very important lessons: 1) it is harder than I thought and 2) it is more liberating than I imagined.
Even planning a journey is easier with a second person, someone who can toss itineraries around and someone who has different ideas about where to go and what to see. When you are going to a brand new country, you just don't know how it's all going to work out. Doing it alone, you are never quite sure you are making the right decisions. Then when you are actually there, it is still difficult to figure out where to go, where to eat, which street to take, how to navigate the train station. Not to mention that there is no one (except the computer) to share all those strange experiences with as they happen. It's isolating in many ways.
But the good thing is that you don't have to take anyone else into consideration. I could wear the same shirt every day, I could look hot and sweaty and yucky, I could hide in my room for a day and not talk to anyone, no one cared! I wasn't ruining anyone else's day by getting hopelessly lost and wasting a lot of time finding my way back. If the museum was too crowded, I didn't have to be cranky standing in line, I could just walk away. I could get up early or sleep in late, no one was waiting on me.
I missed the laughing at stupid things (like getting lost) and the companionship, especially at dinner. I missed putting two heads together to figure out what to do and when. I missed having a pal around. But when I chose to go to Vietnam, one of the reasons I picked that country was because it was brand new and it was outside of my comfort zone, and because it was a solo journey. Would Tom have liked it? Yes. But I liked it just fine by myself, too. It's just a different way to travel and sometimes different is good.
I am going to figure out how to get some of the photos I took onto this blog. The computer I am using right now doesn't want to import the photos from the memory card. I probably need to use a different computer, so stay tuned for that. Thanks again to everyone who followed the blog. It was nice to know so many people were reading it. I want to single out Gil for responding so often to what I was reporting. He knows the country and gave me advice along the way. Thanks for that!
Til next time.....
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Goodbye, Vietnam.
My last day in Vietnam was appropriate for me: cold and rainy. It would have been a good day to curl up in my luxury hotel room and read a book, sipping tea. But instead I had to suffer the curse of anyone traveling to a foreign country: the slog home, through the airport world. Enough has been written about how we all now hate airports, and that's actually too bad. They aren't completely bad because they are still a portal to the "other side" where adventure and journey await. Flying was much more pleasant before fear and paranoia were inserted into the experience and before we were all (except the upper classes) treated like cattle. But the process gets us where we want to go; without it we would still be steaming our way across the ocean.
While I could have done more in the two weeks I was in Vietnam, I think what I did was right for me. I am not the kind of person to zip into a city, zip around and zip out to the next location. That's fine if all you want to do is see one or two things, but it rarely works for me. I like to see how people start their day, how they wake up and unfold. You can only do that if you are willing to get up early, before the city is wide awake. I also like to watch people go about their daily business, how they open their shops, small rituals that are easy to miss unless you can take the time to pay attention. Then there are the after work ballets that take place in any city: how people stop for food or for a drink with friends, how they rush through the small grocery stores shopping for dinner provisions, how some stop and eat in a quick cafe, how some join friends for a stroll down the avenue. All these delineations of daily life are impossible to see if you are only there for a quick day and need to rush out to catch the bus or train to the next place.
So, yes, I could have packed more into the two weeks I had in the country. Next time I will have a better idea of what it takes to travel from city to city and from country to country in that part of the world. But I have zero regrets about what I did and how I planned it. It worked for me, gave me some 'down time' to just hang out and I saw some wonderful things. Going back is definitely in my future.
This trip reminded me of why I love to travel. It's not just to see new things and experience a new culture, but also because travel makes me question my own life and my own personal culture. Not the culture around me but the one inside my mind. I firmly believe that any kind of travel, whether it's by car or rail or on foot, should change you in some way. It should bend the way you see things, soften the edges and, at the same time, tighten the focus. Driving to Texas, flying to Vietnam, walking the Lost Coast, anything that takes you out of your every-day world should make you question that every-day world in some way. Questioning is good; it's the complacency, the lack of questions, that is not good. Most of us live lives that are not traumatic or dangerous or difficult compared with the rest of the world. We turn on the tap, water comes out. We don't worry about car bombs or drought and I know no one personally who lives on the street. We, as safe, secure humans, need to question why we get to live like this and so many people live not like this. Our questioning won't change things, but we still need to ask the questions. Change doesn't happen without rocking the boat and even if that boat is just a paper sail in our own mind, it still needs to be rocked.
So I said goodbye to Vietnam, for now. I can't wait for the next trip, whether it is back to Southeast Asia or somewhere else. (My bank account would like me to stay home for a long, long time, however. But that's like listening to commercials: I don't.) I do want to write about traveling alone, what that was like, and I will do that tomorrow. Plus, there are still things to tell you about my trip, and that will happen soon. So, please, if you have read this far, stay tuned for a couple more days.
cheers.
While I could have done more in the two weeks I was in Vietnam, I think what I did was right for me. I am not the kind of person to zip into a city, zip around and zip out to the next location. That's fine if all you want to do is see one or two things, but it rarely works for me. I like to see how people start their day, how they wake up and unfold. You can only do that if you are willing to get up early, before the city is wide awake. I also like to watch people go about their daily business, how they open their shops, small rituals that are easy to miss unless you can take the time to pay attention. Then there are the after work ballets that take place in any city: how people stop for food or for a drink with friends, how they rush through the small grocery stores shopping for dinner provisions, how some stop and eat in a quick cafe, how some join friends for a stroll down the avenue. All these delineations of daily life are impossible to see if you are only there for a quick day and need to rush out to catch the bus or train to the next place.
So, yes, I could have packed more into the two weeks I had in the country. Next time I will have a better idea of what it takes to travel from city to city and from country to country in that part of the world. But I have zero regrets about what I did and how I planned it. It worked for me, gave me some 'down time' to just hang out and I saw some wonderful things. Going back is definitely in my future.
This trip reminded me of why I love to travel. It's not just to see new things and experience a new culture, but also because travel makes me question my own life and my own personal culture. Not the culture around me but the one inside my mind. I firmly believe that any kind of travel, whether it's by car or rail or on foot, should change you in some way. It should bend the way you see things, soften the edges and, at the same time, tighten the focus. Driving to Texas, flying to Vietnam, walking the Lost Coast, anything that takes you out of your every-day world should make you question that every-day world in some way. Questioning is good; it's the complacency, the lack of questions, that is not good. Most of us live lives that are not traumatic or dangerous or difficult compared with the rest of the world. We turn on the tap, water comes out. We don't worry about car bombs or drought and I know no one personally who lives on the street. We, as safe, secure humans, need to question why we get to live like this and so many people live not like this. Our questioning won't change things, but we still need to ask the questions. Change doesn't happen without rocking the boat and even if that boat is just a paper sail in our own mind, it still needs to be rocked.
So I said goodbye to Vietnam, for now. I can't wait for the next trip, whether it is back to Southeast Asia or somewhere else. (My bank account would like me to stay home for a long, long time, however. But that's like listening to commercials: I don't.) I do want to write about traveling alone, what that was like, and I will do that tomorrow. Plus, there are still things to tell you about my trip, and that will happen soon. So, please, if you have read this far, stay tuned for a couple more days.
cheers.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
From hanoi
No internet this morning, so will report on the rest of what I want to say when I get back into the US. (I am using the front desk computer to do this, that's how nice they are!)
cheers.
cheers.
One moment in Hanoi
I walked around the lake a couple of times this afternoon, a cold day for Hanoi, a bit above 60, a bit wet, very nice. Lots of people were out, it's Sunday after all, time to socialize with friends. I stopped into a restaurant on the lake, one that I have passed often, very touristy (but it's my last afternoon and I am a tourist, after all) and ordered a pot of tea. Sat outside, under a dripping umbrella, daydreaming about my impending career in cinema thinking about my trip home tomorrow, about the rest of the month, about Christmas eve in ten days. Then I heard music, very clear notes, one at a time, like someone was playing a xylophone, a pure, single sound. No one else paid attention, as if they didn't hear it. But they must have. Maybe it always happens at 4:00 in the afternoon and is therefore easy to ignore. It was as if the music was slowly moving, lifting up, like mist off a lake. It went on for about three minutes, one simple tone after the other, a lovely little melody. It was almost like birdsong, organic and free. It was perfect. A wonderful moment.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Back from Hoi An
Back in Hanoi now, and will fill you in on the rest of Hoi An and the train ride back (which has me swaying from side to side, even as sit in this desk chair) but first, this is the perfect way to end the trip. I got in to Hanoi this morning around 5:00 am, picked up by the hotel, and my room is perfect! Remember when I was almost going to stay at the Sofitel, but it was $200 + dollars? This was the hotel I picked instead, for $75, about double what I paid everyplace else. But the bed is so comfortable, the pillows are perfect, it's a suite, so it's really large, TV is at the right spot for watching from the bed, and for breakfast I had a bowl of pho in their charming (and free) breakfast room. Great shower, third floor, back in the old hood. It is as luxurious as I have had so far. And the weather is cool and drizzling outside...... Happy Day! Happy Julie!
OK, back to Hoi An. I decided on one of th
e days (they all blur together) to walk to the edges of the small map I had, torn from a guidebook. I figured it would get me out of the main tourist area and it did. It was a hot, humid day but that seemed OK. I walked and walked, got to the edge of the map, made a turn, still on one of the map streets, and saw a nice little park in the distance, decide to walk to it, thinking I could just turn around and come back. That would have been the wise choice. I, of course, chose unwisely: I didn't turn around, I made another turn, left, then left, thinking I would just be back on the street at the top of the map. Nope. Making another unwise choice, I decided to just wander around a bit in the general direction of where I thought I wanted to go. HA! Didn't work. After another half hour, now very hot, sweat dripping off my forehead, I had no idea where I was. I asked a few English speaking folks, they had no idea either because it WASN'T ON THE MAP! At one point I saw a sign that seemed to be saying "now entering Hoi An" which was odd because I thought I was already in Hoi An. Oh, the frustration. The embarrassment. (Well, I would have been embarrassed if someone else had been relying on my knowing the way, but that wasn't the case, obviously.)
I walked some more and there was the river in front of me, but in my hot and befuddled state, I now doubted everything I should have known, like which way was north! So I asked a guy in a restaurant who only laughed at me for a short while, and he pointed me in the right direction. I walked another 15 minutes and there was the covered Japanese bridge! I knew where I was all the time!
By now I had been walking for close to two hours and I was really hot, my face was no doubt the color of the red shirt I was wearing, but I didn't care how creepy I looked, I just popped into the Tam Tam Cafe and had a really cold beer, and it was the best beer I had had in many days.
The next day I sort of retraced my steps to see where I went wrong, and had no trouble walking out of the town and back in. It just takes practice.
Hoi An is a nice town. The hotel I stayed at was on the main street, closest to the water, and the most commercial, tourist-wise. Once you got a block or two off that street, things were a little less crazy. There are some nice building, temples, cafes, trees, flowers, and it was pleasant. It's also really nice at night, when the river is lit by lights. There are women and girls selling small floating votives, in paper cartons sort of like chinese food cartons only shorter and with no tops. For a small fee you can get one and set it adrift on the river. I suppose it has some good luck benefit or is an homage to ancestors, I don't know because I didn't buy one, just watched them floating around. The shopkeepers calm down a little bit at night as well, so no one followed me with a tray of pig brains to see if I was sure I didn't want to buy some. (Exaggerating, of course.)
I saw all the things you were supposed to see and some things off the beaten path. Supposedly, ten years ago it was much simpler. Today it is a tourist mecca, people from all over wandering around. I read that what made it a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1999 has almost vanished. I guess it was quaint and colonial. During the war it managed to survive unscathed, one of the few cities that did, and thus the World Heritage designation. Now it is on everyone's list to visit and everyone does. It makes me worry about other small towns in SE Asia: will motorbikes and tourists inundated them, too, eventually? Will there be any small towns left that retain characteristics of their origins? Will even the tribes in the hills eventually be on the tourist path? If the floating villages in Halong Bay have cell service and internet service, how long can anyone maintain some sense of integrity about their past? That's not to say that cell service and internet connectivity negate the past, but it's one step towards globalization, if even in a small way.
But maybe I am wrong. Maybe being connected to the world will make it clear to those tribes and those small villages that they have something worth saving, something too valuable to trade for tourist dollars. And who am I to say that whatever that "something" is, it's better for them than the influx of money? I see things from the Western perspective, of course, and I see value in the "old ways" but maybe the people who live those old ways don't see it the same way.
Ah, such deep, philosophical questions.
On a lesser level of discourse, the train ride from Hoi An to Hanoi was long. 14 hours. The first two hours were beautiful: graceful, lush green hills and waterfalls on one side, the ocean on the other. I had a 4 person sleeper car to myself. Then it got dark and there was nothing to see, just now and then a lit-up inside of a small house near the train tracks as we zipped by. For 7 hours I had the car to myself, which was fine. Then one Vietnamese gentleman got on and promptly curled up and went to sleep. Fine. At 9:30 I turned the Kindle off and tried to sleep. Tried and failed. Got up and stood at the window in the dark corridor for a while. Went back to "bed" around 10:30, only to be awakened at midnight by a guy climbing into the bunk above me. Fine. Basically drifted off and on until 4:00 am. It was a fine ride, although the trains are rather grungy and you want to use the toilets as seldom as possible.
The main thing is that a train ride of 14 hours is BORING when it's just you. No one to talk to, no one to joke with, no one to play cards with, or share cookies, or peanuts or complaints with. Ah, the life of the solitary traveler. I actually wished there had been an English speaking person, a stranger, in the cabin with me, and I am usually the one who wants to be alone. It must be a sign that I have had enough alone time.
So this is my last day in Hanoi, I need to go out and spend some of these dong that are worthless anywhere else. Souvenirs! Stocking stuffers! What shall I buy! Oh, commerce calls me..... plus I need to go do the walk around the lake, see if I can get nabbed by Chatty Postcard Guy again.
will report in later.
OK, back to Hoi An. I decided on one of th
e days (they all blur together) to walk to the edges of the small map I had, torn from a guidebook. I figured it would get me out of the main tourist area and it did. It was a hot, humid day but that seemed OK. I walked and walked, got to the edge of the map, made a turn, still on one of the map streets, and saw a nice little park in the distance, decide to walk to it, thinking I could just turn around and come back. That would have been the wise choice. I, of course, chose unwisely: I didn't turn around, I made another turn, left, then left, thinking I would just be back on the street at the top of the map. Nope. Making another unwise choice, I decided to just wander around a bit in the general direction of where I thought I wanted to go. HA! Didn't work. After another half hour, now very hot, sweat dripping off my forehead, I had no idea where I was. I asked a few English speaking folks, they had no idea either because it WASN'T ON THE MAP! At one point I saw a sign that seemed to be saying "now entering Hoi An" which was odd because I thought I was already in Hoi An. Oh, the frustration. The embarrassment. (Well, I would have been embarrassed if someone else had been relying on my knowing the way, but that wasn't the case, obviously.)
I walked some more and there was the river in front of me, but in my hot and befuddled state, I now doubted everything I should have known, like which way was north! So I asked a guy in a restaurant who only laughed at me for a short while, and he pointed me in the right direction. I walked another 15 minutes and there was the covered Japanese bridge! I knew where I was all the time!
By now I had been walking for close to two hours and I was really hot, my face was no doubt the color of the red shirt I was wearing, but I didn't care how creepy I looked, I just popped into the Tam Tam Cafe and had a really cold beer, and it was the best beer I had had in many days.
The next day I sort of retraced my steps to see where I went wrong, and had no trouble walking out of the town and back in. It just takes practice.
Hoi An is a nice town. The hotel I stayed at was on the main street, closest to the water, and the most commercial, tourist-wise. Once you got a block or two off that street, things were a little less crazy. There are some nice building, temples, cafes, trees, flowers, and it was pleasant. It's also really nice at night, when the river is lit by lights. There are women and girls selling small floating votives, in paper cartons sort of like chinese food cartons only shorter and with no tops. For a small fee you can get one and set it adrift on the river. I suppose it has some good luck benefit or is an homage to ancestors, I don't know because I didn't buy one, just watched them floating around. The shopkeepers calm down a little bit at night as well, so no one followed me with a tray of pig brains to see if I was sure I didn't want to buy some. (Exaggerating, of course.)
I saw all the things you were supposed to see and some things off the beaten path. Supposedly, ten years ago it was much simpler. Today it is a tourist mecca, people from all over wandering around. I read that what made it a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1999 has almost vanished. I guess it was quaint and colonial. During the war it managed to survive unscathed, one of the few cities that did, and thus the World Heritage designation. Now it is on everyone's list to visit and everyone does. It makes me worry about other small towns in SE Asia: will motorbikes and tourists inundated them, too, eventually? Will there be any small towns left that retain characteristics of their origins? Will even the tribes in the hills eventually be on the tourist path? If the floating villages in Halong Bay have cell service and internet service, how long can anyone maintain some sense of integrity about their past? That's not to say that cell service and internet connectivity negate the past, but it's one step towards globalization, if even in a small way.
But maybe I am wrong. Maybe being connected to the world will make it clear to those tribes and those small villages that they have something worth saving, something too valuable to trade for tourist dollars. And who am I to say that whatever that "something" is, it's better for them than the influx of money? I see things from the Western perspective, of course, and I see value in the "old ways" but maybe the people who live those old ways don't see it the same way.
Ah, such deep, philosophical questions.
On a lesser level of discourse, the train ride from Hoi An to Hanoi was long. 14 hours. The first two hours were beautiful: graceful, lush green hills and waterfalls on one side, the ocean on the other. I had a 4 person sleeper car to myself. Then it got dark and there was nothing to see, just now and then a lit-up inside of a small house near the train tracks as we zipped by. For 7 hours I had the car to myself, which was fine. Then one Vietnamese gentleman got on and promptly curled up and went to sleep. Fine. At 9:30 I turned the Kindle off and tried to sleep. Tried and failed. Got up and stood at the window in the dark corridor for a while. Went back to "bed" around 10:30, only to be awakened at midnight by a guy climbing into the bunk above me. Fine. Basically drifted off and on until 4:00 am. It was a fine ride, although the trains are rather grungy and you want to use the toilets as seldom as possible.
The main thing is that a train ride of 14 hours is BORING when it's just you. No one to talk to, no one to joke with, no one to play cards with, or share cookies, or peanuts or complaints with. Ah, the life of the solitary traveler. I actually wished there had been an English speaking person, a stranger, in the cabin with me, and I am usually the one who wants to be alone. It must be a sign that I have had enough alone time.
So this is my last day in Hanoi, I need to go out and spend some of these dong that are worthless anywhere else. Souvenirs! Stocking stuffers! What shall I buy! Oh, commerce calls me..... plus I need to go do the walk around the lake, see if I can get nabbed by Chatty Postcard Guy again.
will report in later.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Hoi An - if it makes it onto the page
I am having trouble posting anything here, so what you read may be fragmented and it could stop midstream. Bear with me. Or bare with me. The following is a bit unorganized because the computer keeps error-ing out on me, so I apolgize for the lack of linear continuity.
The ride from the airport (Hue) was long, mainly because the hotel driver was the slowest driver in Vietnam. Semi trucks passed us, bicyles passed us, cars without engings passed us. In Vietnam, drivers have to pass other vehicles, it's simply a fact. Even on a two lane road, they make a third lane in the middle and pass using that. This guy did not. We crawled along. I am sure he was getting paid by the hour and thus made a bundle on the round trip. (I know, cynical on my part, but what other reason could their be?)
I was greeted by the manager rather abruptly when I finally got here, by her ambushing me as I walked into the lobby, telling me I had to come to the cafe for a "welcome drink" which was a cup of tea. She then thrust a clipboard in front of me, showing me what I owed and making sure I noted (and signed for) the $100 fee for picking up up from the airport. What! But it was a fait accompli, so there was nothing to do but sign. I have come to expect kindness and graciousness from the Vietnamese in the hospitality industry, and this was a far cry from that.
The hotel is beautiful, however, lovely gardens, an old French Colonial style building, really nice setting, even a pool table under an arbor. My room is nice but would be too small for two people unless they were tiny, it's difficult to walk around the bed without bumping into the armoire or the table. But that's fine, it's just me. However, right
now I cannot stay in my room because there are construction guys next to me pounding on the walls and the concrete porch outside the room. It's loud and very, very annoying. It would nice to be able to sit outside and enjoy the gardens nor my room because of the noise.
I walked around town for about an hour this morning, before the businesses opened up, and I suppose I will have to spend most of the day doing the same thing, with the businesses now open. The merchants come out into the street and follow me down the street, trying to get me to buy something, be it a massage or a spa or clothes or produce or cigarettes or a dog or some raw meat. I expected the town to be somewhat quiet but scooters and motorcycles and cars are all zooming around.
I may have to take my book and find a bar and hide out. But first I will just walk more, maybe leave the commercial part of town behind, if that's possible.
But I will persevere, of course. If the pounding cement guys are here all day, it won't make me a happy camper, there is only so much walking around town I can take. It is hot and humid, I like to come back after an hour or two and cool off. But with the hammering, that might not happen.
We'll see.... and hey, it's noon, so perhaps there is a beer with my name on it somewhere.
I will be back later.
OK, off I go.
The ride from the airport (Hue) was long, mainly because the hotel driver was the slowest driver in Vietnam. Semi trucks passed us, bicyles passed us, cars without engings passed us. In Vietnam, drivers have to pass other vehicles, it's simply a fact. Even on a two lane road, they make a third lane in the middle and pass using that. This guy did not. We crawled along. I am sure he was getting paid by the hour and thus made a bundle on the round trip. (I know, cynical on my part, but what other reason could their be?)
I was greeted by the manager rather abruptly when I finally got here, by her ambushing me as I walked into the lobby, telling me I had to come to the cafe for a "welcome drink" which was a cup of tea. She then thrust a clipboard in front of me, showing me what I owed and making sure I noted (and signed for) the $100 fee for picking up up from the airport. What! But it was a fait accompli, so there was nothing to do but sign. I have come to expect kindness and graciousness from the Vietnamese in the hospitality industry, and this was a far cry from that.
The hotel is beautiful, however, lovely gardens, an old French Colonial style building, really nice setting, even a pool table under an arbor. My room is nice but would be too small for two people unless they were tiny, it's difficult to walk around the bed without bumping into the armoire or the table. But that's fine, it's just me. However, right
now I cannot stay in my room because there are construction guys next to me pounding on the walls and the concrete porch outside the room. It's loud and very, very annoying. It would nice to be able to sit outside and enjoy the gardens nor my room because of the noise.
I walked around town for about an hour this morning, before the businesses opened up, and I suppose I will have to spend most of the day doing the same thing, with the businesses now open. The merchants come out into the street and follow me down the street, trying to get me to buy something, be it a massage or a spa or clothes or produce or cigarettes or a dog or some raw meat. I expected the town to be somewhat quiet but scooters and motorcycles and cars are all zooming around.
I may have to take my book and find a bar and hide out. But first I will just walk more, maybe leave the commercial part of town behind, if that's possible.
But I will persevere, of course. If the pounding cement guys are here all day, it won't make me a happy camper, there is only so much walking around town I can take. It is hot and humid, I like to come back after an hour or two and cool off. But with the hammering, that might not happen.
We'll see.... and hey, it's noon, so perhaps there is a beer with my name on it somewhere.
I will be back later.
OK, off I go.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Vietnam, day 8 or 9 or Wednesday, I think
I feel like Towlie: I have no idea what's going on.
Yesterday I was supposed to be on a night train to Hoi An. Instead I was huddled under the blankets in my hotel room, freezing, chills, aches for hours. I never left the hotel, and after getting a cup of tea for breakfast, I never left the room. I never left the bed, except to pee. I basically slept and shivered, and then sweated, all day and night and when I woke this morning, at 5:00 am, it was all gone. No idea what it was and I don't care, just grateful it left.
Therefore, instead of the overnight train I am taking a short flight to Hue this afternoon, will be in Hoi An by 4:00 pm. I will definitely take the overnight train back, since I have the ticket. And the tickets were supposedly non-refundable, since I cancelled at the last minute, but the front desk staff called the company and got half of my money back! I was shocked! I put most of it in their tip box, since I expected nothing.
One thing to say before I leave for the airport: not once have a seen a homeless person or anyone asking for spare change. Even in the very early morning, when you might see someone sleeping in a doorway, nothing. As I am learning from talking to Vietnamese, no one needs to be homeless, there is always room for another person in someones home. There is always a small job, even if it simply selling postcards to American tourists in the park. People work very hard here, basically the small shops are open from 6:30 in the morning til about 10:00 at night. Everyone works. It's quite a testament to the people and their ethics.
Hopefully there will be a computer at my disposal in Hoi An. Will catch up with you there.
cheers.
Yesterday I was supposed to be on a night train to Hoi An. Instead I was huddled under the blankets in my hotel room, freezing, chills, aches for hours. I never left the hotel, and after getting a cup of tea for breakfast, I never left the room. I never left the bed, except to pee. I basically slept and shivered, and then sweated, all day and night and when I woke this morning, at 5:00 am, it was all gone. No idea what it was and I don't care, just grateful it left.
Therefore, instead of the overnight train I am taking a short flight to Hue this afternoon, will be in Hoi An by 4:00 pm. I will definitely take the overnight train back, since I have the ticket. And the tickets were supposedly non-refundable, since I cancelled at the last minute, but the front desk staff called the company and got half of my money back! I was shocked! I put most of it in their tip box, since I expected nothing.
One thing to say before I leave for the airport: not once have a seen a homeless person or anyone asking for spare change. Even in the very early morning, when you might see someone sleeping in a doorway, nothing. As I am learning from talking to Vietnamese, no one needs to be homeless, there is always room for another person in someones home. There is always a small job, even if it simply selling postcards to American tourists in the park. People work very hard here, basically the small shops are open from 6:30 in the morning til about 10:00 at night. Everyone works. It's quite a testament to the people and their ethics.
Hopefully there will be a computer at my disposal in Hoi An. Will catch up with you there.
cheers.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Halong Bay, continued
It's the following morning, made you wait overnight! HA!
Back to the bay: in the morning, after becoming quite proficient at the ancient art of tai chi, in fact almost becoming a Tai Chi Master after just 30 minutes, we had coffee and a pastry and got back in the small tender boat (not because it was easy to chew, mind you, but that's what you call the small boat that takes you somewhere off of the large boat/ship) and went to a floating fishing village. That doesn't sound like much but the entire bay area is a World Heritage Site and part of the reason for that is because of a handful of these floating villages. We arrived at a little dock and then transferred to small wooden boats that carried 4 people and one very small woman who rowed the boat, standing up. Her arms were about as thin as the narrow handle of the oar, but she was strong. She took us around the village. It consisted of about 90 houses, an elementary school and a "shop" where the villagers bought supplies. About 300 people live in this one village, including lots of kids, dogs and cats. They make their living by fishing and by culturing pearls, taking them back to the mainland to sell. Everyone is proficient at rowing a boat, tossing the nets, fishing, repairing, doing laundry by hand, everything you would have to do to survive.
This particular village was built after the war, in the 1970's, with a government grant and grants from NGOs. The houses are small and they are all attached together, floating on plastic pontoons. It's amazing. Yes, they are obviously pretty poor but there is great care taken at each place. Kids are laughing, neighbors are chatting to each other, and it's all within an almost protected area surrounded by karsts. We were paddled around for about an hour, all of us, after the first 15 minutes, silent and in awe of the beauty and the intense power of the place.
The Vietnam people have incredible reverence for their ancestors and for their country. The place, the bay and this village, are extensions of that reverence. The power of it all, and I don't know how to describe it or how to translate the feeling into words, is obvious and moving. We were all silenced in the face of it. We were rounding a corner of a karst and Giovanni, sitting next to me, whispered "I cannot believe this." It was what we all felt.
This village and its inhabitants live day to day, hoping that they survive, expecting to but never sure. Weather, market conditions, war, so many things could toss their lives upside down in a minute. But they are connected to the world, they have cell phones and internet connection in their floating village, so they know what's happening around them. To live in a place so quiet and isolated and peaceful must be, at times, a curse. And then a blessing. And then a curse. It goes both ways.
There is a blog post with some photos you can check out: http://topofthephnom.blogspot.com/2013/01/go-floating-village-halong-bay-vietnam.html because I can't download any photos until I get home. She has some photos of the boat as well, on her Part 1 posting about Halong Bay.
It isn't that a sail like this will change your life, that's just too trite of a sentiment. But it does make you pause and think, not about the villagers but about yourself. Actually this entire vacation is doing that because when else can you take the time to ruminate on your life other than when you take yourself out of it? Otherwise, the day-to-day gets in the way, bills to pay, laundry, kids, dogs, the stupid job, all that stuff, and there isn't time to stop. Here there is time to stop, to put down the book, to step away from the electrical crap we drag around with us and just let your mind wander, let yourself think. Quietly.
After the floating village and the short lesson on culturing pearls, we were tendered back to the Treasure Junk, had a breakfast consisting of a light pho, eggs any way, stir fried chicken and mushrooms, a meatball with tomatoes and an incredible salad of crisply shredded vegetables with peanuts and dried beef and we finished with the best pineapple I have ever eaten. We were then shipped back to the dock and got back on the bus for the tiresome 4 hour trip back to Hanoi, broken up with a bathroom stop at a huge touristy shopping place which was actually OK.
And then a strange thing happened: a young woman on the bus was sick, her boyfriend asked if we could pull over for a minute, and the driver and guide did, right on the side of the road, next to three little connected businesses, rubble all around. The girl and her boyfriend got off the bus and within about 15 feet she fainted dead away, her skin the color of bleached bone. Two of the shop keepers, young guys, rushed over, got her up and carried her to the back of one of the shops (which looked much too small to even have a back). Our tour guide, a cool young guy, went a few doors away, got some ginger tea, came back and for 15 minutes we were all just waiting. Then the two guys come out from the back of the shop, laughing. Our tour guide comes out, the boyfriend comes out, all laughing. Then the girl comes out, smiling. They say goodbye and come back to the bus.
It seems the young guys, including our tour guide, knew what to do, how to put ginger oil and camphor on her, how to rub her neck, temples, hands, feet, get the blood going, get her "life spirit" moving again. She looked 90% better, was able to stay on the bus for the next 2.5 hours back to Hanoi. That these guys all knew what to do was remarkable. And the boyfriend, who was sitting across the aisle from me, said he offered to pay them something, and they just handed him a lit stick of incense, indicated that he should put it near the shrine. He asked our tour guide why and the reason was "they just did what they knew, and your thanks needed to go to their ancestors, not them."
Quite the journey, I must say.
Alright, it's time for a walk around the lake and a chance to partake in this hotel's breakfast service. But I have much more to say.......
Back to the bay: in the morning, after becoming quite proficient at the ancient art of tai chi, in fact almost becoming a Tai Chi Master after just 30 minutes, we had coffee and a pastry and got back in the small tender boat (not because it was easy to chew, mind you, but that's what you call the small boat that takes you somewhere off of the large boat/ship) and went to a floating fishing village. That doesn't sound like much but the entire bay area is a World Heritage Site and part of the reason for that is because of a handful of these floating villages. We arrived at a little dock and then transferred to small wooden boats that carried 4 people and one very small woman who rowed the boat, standing up. Her arms were about as thin as the narrow handle of the oar, but she was strong. She took us around the village. It consisted of about 90 houses, an elementary school and a "shop" where the villagers bought supplies. About 300 people live in this one village, including lots of kids, dogs and cats. They make their living by fishing and by culturing pearls, taking them back to the mainland to sell. Everyone is proficient at rowing a boat, tossing the nets, fishing, repairing, doing laundry by hand, everything you would have to do to survive.
This particular village was built after the war, in the 1970's, with a government grant and grants from NGOs. The houses are small and they are all attached together, floating on plastic pontoons. It's amazing. Yes, they are obviously pretty poor but there is great care taken at each place. Kids are laughing, neighbors are chatting to each other, and it's all within an almost protected area surrounded by karsts. We were paddled around for about an hour, all of us, after the first 15 minutes, silent and in awe of the beauty and the intense power of the place.
The Vietnam people have incredible reverence for their ancestors and for their country. The place, the bay and this village, are extensions of that reverence. The power of it all, and I don't know how to describe it or how to translate the feeling into words, is obvious and moving. We were all silenced in the face of it. We were rounding a corner of a karst and Giovanni, sitting next to me, whispered "I cannot believe this." It was what we all felt.
This village and its inhabitants live day to day, hoping that they survive, expecting to but never sure. Weather, market conditions, war, so many things could toss their lives upside down in a minute. But they are connected to the world, they have cell phones and internet connection in their floating village, so they know what's happening around them. To live in a place so quiet and isolated and peaceful must be, at times, a curse. And then a blessing. And then a curse. It goes both ways.
There is a blog post with some photos you can check out: http://topofthephnom.blogspot.com/2013/01/go-floating-village-halong-bay-vietnam.html because I can't download any photos until I get home. She has some photos of the boat as well, on her Part 1 posting about Halong Bay.
It isn't that a sail like this will change your life, that's just too trite of a sentiment. But it does make you pause and think, not about the villagers but about yourself. Actually this entire vacation is doing that because when else can you take the time to ruminate on your life other than when you take yourself out of it? Otherwise, the day-to-day gets in the way, bills to pay, laundry, kids, dogs, the stupid job, all that stuff, and there isn't time to stop. Here there is time to stop, to put down the book, to step away from the electrical crap we drag around with us and just let your mind wander, let yourself think. Quietly.
After the floating village and the short lesson on culturing pearls, we were tendered back to the Treasure Junk, had a breakfast consisting of a light pho, eggs any way, stir fried chicken and mushrooms, a meatball with tomatoes and an incredible salad of crisply shredded vegetables with peanuts and dried beef and we finished with the best pineapple I have ever eaten. We were then shipped back to the dock and got back on the bus for the tiresome 4 hour trip back to Hanoi, broken up with a bathroom stop at a huge touristy shopping place which was actually OK.
And then a strange thing happened: a young woman on the bus was sick, her boyfriend asked if we could pull over for a minute, and the driver and guide did, right on the side of the road, next to three little connected businesses, rubble all around. The girl and her boyfriend got off the bus and within about 15 feet she fainted dead away, her skin the color of bleached bone. Two of the shop keepers, young guys, rushed over, got her up and carried her to the back of one of the shops (which looked much too small to even have a back). Our tour guide, a cool young guy, went a few doors away, got some ginger tea, came back and for 15 minutes we were all just waiting. Then the two guys come out from the back of the shop, laughing. Our tour guide comes out, the boyfriend comes out, all laughing. Then the girl comes out, smiling. They say goodbye and come back to the bus.
It seems the young guys, including our tour guide, knew what to do, how to put ginger oil and camphor on her, how to rub her neck, temples, hands, feet, get the blood going, get her "life spirit" moving again. She looked 90% better, was able to stay on the bus for the next 2.5 hours back to Hanoi. That these guys all knew what to do was remarkable. And the boyfriend, who was sitting across the aisle from me, said he offered to pay them something, and they just handed him a lit stick of incense, indicated that he should put it near the shrine. He asked our tour guide why and the reason was "they just did what they knew, and your thanks needed to go to their ancestors, not them."
Quite the journey, I must say.
Alright, it's time for a walk around the lake and a chance to partake in this hotel's breakfast service. But I have much more to say.......
Vietnam, whatever day it is, Halong Bay
Just checked into this hotel for one night and they obviously know my preferences because here's another laptop to use!!! And cold beer in the mini fridge for..... $1.50 US. Oh, life, I love you so.
Yesterday I left Hanoi at 8:00 am, got to Halong Bay via the tour company bus at noon, boarded our boat (which you can see here and it looks exactly like this: www.treasure-junk.com) and from the moment we stepped foot on it, something happened.... some mystical shroud enveloped us (well, maybe not everyone) and it was as if we were transported to another place and time, like an ancestral spirit wrapped itself around our boat and carried us away. I know it sounds oddly mystical and we all know I don't walk down that path too often, but in this case there is no other way to describe it.
Halong Bay is very large and has more than 2000 limestone outcroppings (called karsts) rising above the water. The geological formations are more than 20 million years old and are scattered all over the bay. The day was not really clear, sort of misty in the distance, so there was no horizon you could see, just the karsts as they wasted away into the mist. The sea was flat, the boat is amazingly quiet and we were all struck by the enormity of the feeling it gave us.
After embarking and getting our cabins, we had a 5 course delicious lunch of Vietnamese food, of course, and a little lecture on what the itinerary was. I hooked up with a couple from NY and another single traveler, Giovanni from Italy, a 30 year-old guy who has done a lot of traveling. The majority of those on the boat went kayaking but the 4 of us decided not to, and we convinced the crew of the skiff that off-loaded us from the Treasure Junk onto a beach the size of a kindergarten sandbox to take us on a tour around the bay instead. We spent an hour just going around the karsts, seeing fishing boats and a floating village, watching hawk-like birds sail on the air currents. We took a lot of photos, and then came back to the Junk before all the kayakers returned, enjoyed the sun deck before it was crowded. It was lovely.
After the sunset, there was a little reception before dinner, Happy Hour with two-for-one cocktails and wine, and then another incredible meal was served, course after course of fresh mango salads and octopus and grilled fish and a spicy soup and roasted pork and all with perfectly cooked veggies and everything you would want. Good french wine, nice whiskeys, (beverages were an extra cost but nothing was more than $7.00) and everyone had fun, talking and getting to know one another, and standing on the deck after dinner for the ritual of Squid Fishing.
But under all the camaraderie was the feeling that we were in the hands of some ancient entity. The weather outside, even at 10:00 at night, was lovely, there was a little quarter moon and everything was silent except for the sound of peoples' voices. I hit the bed a little after 10:00 and slept like a hibernating bear until 6:00 this morning. And check this out: at 6:30 there was a tai chi lesson and I participated! Me, who participates in nothing, was there and I liked it. I might have to join the old Asian folks in Santa Rosa, get my tai chi going.
The event of the morning was worth the price of the ticket to Vietnam. It left most of us speechless. I will tell you about it later. Even though it is still rush hour, I need to walk off the 4 hour bus ride back to Hanoi.
.
Yesterday I left Hanoi at 8:00 am, got to Halong Bay via the tour company bus at noon, boarded our boat (which you can see here and it looks exactly like this: www.treasure-junk.com) and from the moment we stepped foot on it, something happened.... some mystical shroud enveloped us (well, maybe not everyone) and it was as if we were transported to another place and time, like an ancestral spirit wrapped itself around our boat and carried us away. I know it sounds oddly mystical and we all know I don't walk down that path too often, but in this case there is no other way to describe it.
Halong Bay is very large and has more than 2000 limestone outcroppings (called karsts) rising above the water. The geological formations are more than 20 million years old and are scattered all over the bay. The day was not really clear, sort of misty in the distance, so there was no horizon you could see, just the karsts as they wasted away into the mist. The sea was flat, the boat is amazingly quiet and we were all struck by the enormity of the feeling it gave us.
After embarking and getting our cabins, we had a 5 course delicious lunch of Vietnamese food, of course, and a little lecture on what the itinerary was. I hooked up with a couple from NY and another single traveler, Giovanni from Italy, a 30 year-old guy who has done a lot of traveling. The majority of those on the boat went kayaking but the 4 of us decided not to, and we convinced the crew of the skiff that off-loaded us from the Treasure Junk onto a beach the size of a kindergarten sandbox to take us on a tour around the bay instead. We spent an hour just going around the karsts, seeing fishing boats and a floating village, watching hawk-like birds sail on the air currents. We took a lot of photos, and then came back to the Junk before all the kayakers returned, enjoyed the sun deck before it was crowded. It was lovely.
After the sunset, there was a little reception before dinner, Happy Hour with two-for-one cocktails and wine, and then another incredible meal was served, course after course of fresh mango salads and octopus and grilled fish and a spicy soup and roasted pork and all with perfectly cooked veggies and everything you would want. Good french wine, nice whiskeys, (beverages were an extra cost but nothing was more than $7.00) and everyone had fun, talking and getting to know one another, and standing on the deck after dinner for the ritual of Squid Fishing.
But under all the camaraderie was the feeling that we were in the hands of some ancient entity. The weather outside, even at 10:00 at night, was lovely, there was a little quarter moon and everything was silent except for the sound of peoples' voices. I hit the bed a little after 10:00 and slept like a hibernating bear until 6:00 this morning. And check this out: at 6:30 there was a tai chi lesson and I participated! Me, who participates in nothing, was there and I liked it. I might have to join the old Asian folks in Santa Rosa, get my tai chi going.
The event of the morning was worth the price of the ticket to Vietnam. It left most of us speechless. I will tell you about it later. Even though it is still rush hour, I need to walk off the 4 hour bus ride back to Hanoi.
.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Vietnam - Day 5 and 6
No, not two days rolled into one, but I will be gone tomorrow, 8 December, on a boat in Halong Bay so no communiques from me on the 6th day of my adventure.
Working backwards: tonight, local cafe, ate there earlier in the week and I liked the place because the cafe is close, clean, seats about 30 so not big but bigger than a lot of local places here. (Most seat about 6 and some of those are on small plastic stools. Bad for my knees.) And they have a nice selection of whiskeys, of which I opt for the cheapest, my friend Johnny the Red. Jack of the Daniels is another ten cents more expensive, so I go for the cheap guy. But tonight I had one of the best pasta dishes I have ever had in a restaurant. Simple, simple, simple. Farfalle with shrimp, capers, a touch of tomato and parsley and cream. I cannot tell you how perfect it was. The tomato basically colored the sauce, but I think the chef probably boiled the shells as well and a little pink came of that. Capers, I was worried about but they were just a little hint in your mouth, like something was going on but you weren't sure what. The wait person apologized because she thought it was taking too long but it was because the chef was cooking the pasta to order. It was perfect. You know how those shapes can be off a little, too tough in the middle, too done on the edges. Not this one. He nailed it. And the shrimp were sweet and perfect, the cream sauce had a little hot spice to it but wasn't too creamy nor too spicy. All in all, perfect. I would go back there tomorrow and eat it again.
And the music was a Pandora sort of thing but while I was there I got Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan doing "Girl from the North Country," one of my favorites. And John Prine with "The Great Compromise" and Lucinda Williams with "Lake Charles" which always brings tears to my eyes. "Did an angel whisper in your ear and hold you close and take away your fear in those long, last moments."
So, a shot of JW Red, two (two!) glasses of a good french chardonnay and a great pasta, sitting in the window, thinking, listening, watching and eating and drinking. It doesn't get a lot better than that.
Backing up a bit, it was a good day. Out early to walk the lake, back for another delicious breakfast, finished reading "Gone, Baby, Gone" by Dennis Lehane, an excellent read. Yes, the movie was really good but Lehane is a story telling master, so the read was totally captivating. Then out again. I did the Tom Evans thing, looked up what was happening this weekend in Hanoi and found a couple of art galleries with new art, visited them, saw one museum, passed on the other because of the crowds. Sat on a bench near the lake for a while and the Chatty Postcard Guy found me! zut alors! He popped onto my bench and started talking.... as if our conversation from three days ago had never stopped. Asked me what I had seen, nodded in approval, lied to me that the only time I could see this particular place was today, today only and he had a motorcycle, he could take me! What luck! Sadly, I declined. But he is such a good salesman that I bought another pack of post cards (I know, I know, don't judge me) and a book that I actually have wanted to read so all was well. He got some money, I got some stuff. And he was so sweet..... he says "Ok, now that I have some money, let me buy you lunch. I know a good place." I declined. I knew it would be a great soup place, sitting on those tiny chairs, street food, but I had just had breakfast so I said no. But if this guy had a chance, he could sell cars to camels, I swear. Come on, you know me, I buy nothing. But I bought from this guy. He liked me, he liked my little history tidbits, he said, as he left "It is good that you are here. I like that you came here to see Vietnam by yourself. I think you would be a good friend and I hope you are here tomorrow." When I replied something like "yeah, so you can sell me something else?" he just smiled and said "Goodbye, my friend." Sweet.
Tomorrow I am leaving this hotel and this computer early in the morning for a trip up to Halong Bay and a night on a boat. It should be lovely. I will be out of computer contact for a while so don't worry. I will be back. Thank you all for reading this far.
Cheers.
Working backwards: tonight, local cafe, ate there earlier in the week and I liked the place because the cafe is close, clean, seats about 30 so not big but bigger than a lot of local places here. (Most seat about 6 and some of those are on small plastic stools. Bad for my knees.) And they have a nice selection of whiskeys, of which I opt for the cheapest, my friend Johnny the Red. Jack of the Daniels is another ten cents more expensive, so I go for the cheap guy. But tonight I had one of the best pasta dishes I have ever had in a restaurant. Simple, simple, simple. Farfalle with shrimp, capers, a touch of tomato and parsley and cream. I cannot tell you how perfect it was. The tomato basically colored the sauce, but I think the chef probably boiled the shells as well and a little pink came of that. Capers, I was worried about but they were just a little hint in your mouth, like something was going on but you weren't sure what. The wait person apologized because she thought it was taking too long but it was because the chef was cooking the pasta to order. It was perfect. You know how those shapes can be off a little, too tough in the middle, too done on the edges. Not this one. He nailed it. And the shrimp were sweet and perfect, the cream sauce had a little hot spice to it but wasn't too creamy nor too spicy. All in all, perfect. I would go back there tomorrow and eat it again.
And the music was a Pandora sort of thing but while I was there I got Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan doing "Girl from the North Country," one of my favorites. And John Prine with "The Great Compromise" and Lucinda Williams with "Lake Charles" which always brings tears to my eyes. "Did an angel whisper in your ear and hold you close and take away your fear in those long, last moments."
So, a shot of JW Red, two (two!) glasses of a good french chardonnay and a great pasta, sitting in the window, thinking, listening, watching and eating and drinking. It doesn't get a lot better than that.
Backing up a bit, it was a good day. Out early to walk the lake, back for another delicious breakfast, finished reading "Gone, Baby, Gone" by Dennis Lehane, an excellent read. Yes, the movie was really good but Lehane is a story telling master, so the read was totally captivating. Then out again. I did the Tom Evans thing, looked up what was happening this weekend in Hanoi and found a couple of art galleries with new art, visited them, saw one museum, passed on the other because of the crowds. Sat on a bench near the lake for a while and the Chatty Postcard Guy found me! zut alors! He popped onto my bench and started talking.... as if our conversation from three days ago had never stopped. Asked me what I had seen, nodded in approval, lied to me that the only time I could see this particular place was today, today only and he had a motorcycle, he could take me! What luck! Sadly, I declined. But he is such a good salesman that I bought another pack of post cards (I know, I know, don't judge me) and a book that I actually have wanted to read so all was well. He got some money, I got some stuff. And he was so sweet..... he says "Ok, now that I have some money, let me buy you lunch. I know a good place." I declined. I knew it would be a great soup place, sitting on those tiny chairs, street food, but I had just had breakfast so I said no. But if this guy had a chance, he could sell cars to camels, I swear. Come on, you know me, I buy nothing. But I bought from this guy. He liked me, he liked my little history tidbits, he said, as he left "It is good that you are here. I like that you came here to see Vietnam by yourself. I think you would be a good friend and I hope you are here tomorrow." When I replied something like "yeah, so you can sell me something else?" he just smiled and said "Goodbye, my friend." Sweet.
Tomorrow I am leaving this hotel and this computer early in the morning for a trip up to Halong Bay and a night on a boat. It should be lovely. I will be out of computer contact for a while so don't worry. I will be back. Thank you all for reading this far.
Cheers.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Food, languages and doing nothing
Everyone wants to know about the delicious food in Vietnam. Partly because of TV shows like Anthony Bourdain and the like. He eats street food. I don't. I have seen those livers and chicken parts sitting in the sun for 5 hours and I don't care how much hot oil they fry in, I don't want to take that chance.
However, everything I have eaten has been delicious. The first day I was here, I had a bowl of pho and it was quite good. That night I had two beers in the upstairs bar overlooking the street and what the menu called "Foccacia" but was just a thin pizza crust baked until crisp in the middle and slightly chewy on the ends with olive oil and salt. It was delicious and the perfect thing to eat with a beer. The next morning I had breakfast at the hotel, quite good, and no dinner. I listened to my stomach and it said NO, so I obeyed. Yesterday, another good breakfast and dinner in a local restaurant. Here's what I had: a shot of Johnny Walker, one beer, four fresh spring rolls with pork (which were quite porkish) and yellow curry with rice and sauteed baby bok choy. It was really good and the total came to under $15. Seriously. This morning an even better breakfast (bacon and eggs rolled up in a huge crepe) and I just came back from the upstairs open-air bar and a bowl of a yummy rice concoction and two beers and the total was 200,000 dong, less than $10 US.
So not only is the food good, it's friggin cheap as well! If you had to hide out for a while on the cheap, this is the place to do it.
It is confirmed: I am the de facto English teacher of many young, in-training English speakers. I cannot sit on a bench in the park without being accosted by kids who need to practice their English. I know I am not the only one, I see it happening to others, and it is rather amusing. The kids are so serious, wanting to know about my life, what I do (I lie about that all the time) and how I like Vietnam. But when I ask them questions, like do you like American TV or do you drink beer, they get all giggly and the truth comes out. They would sit there with me for the entire day if I let them but after about 30 minutes my butt is sore and I need to move on. When I tell them I have to go, they have the sad face for a second, but then they smile and say goodbye and seek out their next victims.
While I know I should be out seeing all the museums and doing all the cultural stuff, today I did pretty much nothing. Walked a lot, yes, but I spent a lot of time in my room and in the park reading a book. It felt good. Part of vacation is vacating, and that is what I did. It's one of the reasons I like going to a country that speaks a language I don't know. It means I don't have to pay attention, (well, except when crossing the street) and I don't have to be in anyone else's moment.
I have been to many countries but the people here are probably the nicest I have ever encountered. Not the people on the streets, but the service people, the ones that wait on me or tidy my room or man the front desk. And they are beautiful as well. I am not sure I could live here (the jostling factor gets tiresome) but if even a little of the nice factor carried over to other parts of the world, we would all be a little bit happier.
.
However, everything I have eaten has been delicious. The first day I was here, I had a bowl of pho and it was quite good. That night I had two beers in the upstairs bar overlooking the street and what the menu called "Foccacia" but was just a thin pizza crust baked until crisp in the middle and slightly chewy on the ends with olive oil and salt. It was delicious and the perfect thing to eat with a beer. The next morning I had breakfast at the hotel, quite good, and no dinner. I listened to my stomach and it said NO, so I obeyed. Yesterday, another good breakfast and dinner in a local restaurant. Here's what I had: a shot of Johnny Walker, one beer, four fresh spring rolls with pork (which were quite porkish) and yellow curry with rice and sauteed baby bok choy. It was really good and the total came to under $15. Seriously. This morning an even better breakfast (bacon and eggs rolled up in a huge crepe) and I just came back from the upstairs open-air bar and a bowl of a yummy rice concoction and two beers and the total was 200,000 dong, less than $10 US.
So not only is the food good, it's friggin cheap as well! If you had to hide out for a while on the cheap, this is the place to do it.
It is confirmed: I am the de facto English teacher of many young, in-training English speakers. I cannot sit on a bench in the park without being accosted by kids who need to practice their English. I know I am not the only one, I see it happening to others, and it is rather amusing. The kids are so serious, wanting to know about my life, what I do (I lie about that all the time) and how I like Vietnam. But when I ask them questions, like do you like American TV or do you drink beer, they get all giggly and the truth comes out. They would sit there with me for the entire day if I let them but after about 30 minutes my butt is sore and I need to move on. When I tell them I have to go, they have the sad face for a second, but then they smile and say goodbye and seek out their next victims.
While I know I should be out seeing all the museums and doing all the cultural stuff, today I did pretty much nothing. Walked a lot, yes, but I spent a lot of time in my room and in the park reading a book. It felt good. Part of vacation is vacating, and that is what I did. It's one of the reasons I like going to a country that speaks a language I don't know. It means I don't have to pay attention, (well, except when crossing the street) and I don't have to be in anyone else's moment.
I have been to many countries but the people here are probably the nicest I have ever encountered. Not the people on the streets, but the service people, the ones that wait on me or tidy my room or man the front desk. And they are beautiful as well. I am not sure I could live here (the jostling factor gets tiresome) but if even a little of the nice factor carried over to other parts of the world, we would all be a little bit happier.
.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Vietnam - Day 4
Isn't it amazing how adaptable we humans are? How things so foreign quickly become vaguely familiar and thus alright? It's like living in Daly City with so much fog: you get use to it and you even sometimes welcome it. If not,you move.
Yesterday I went to the Temple of Literature, a 15 minute cab ride from the hotel ($2.00 US). It's a revered place in Vietnam, the site of the first university, almost a shrine to learning, according to the guidebooks. It's a serene spot with crazy traffic all around, ponds with lily pads, shrines to the elders, beautifully tended gardens, incense, schlocky gift shops, everything you would want in a national monument. Unfortunately, the serenity was blasted by hoards of teenagers celebrating their graduation from random universities. It seems it's the place to go to have group photos taken, so there were probably 5 graduating classes in graduation gowns and fancy dresses acting like 18 year old graduates everywhere: loud and self-absorbed. But it was OK, I expected it. There were little pockets of space (like in the far back corner) that were quiet and I sat there for a while.
The coolest thing was that outside, in one of the courtyards, there were about 300 photos on display, the top entries into Vietnam's 7th annual photography contest. Some were manipulated (i.e. Photoshop), some were cliched (kids with balloons) but many of them were incredible. I spent a good part of an hour walking down the rows, reading where each one was taken and who took it. There were even photos of Mono Lake and Monument Valley! And then a remarkable thing occurred: I was looking at one photo taken from the top of a mountain down at a small village (here in Vietnam) with clouds overlaying part of the village, the green of the hills brilliant. It was a very beautiful photo. There was a small man standing by it, smiling. He pointed at the photo and said "so nice." I agreed: "It is beautiful." He looked at me and said, "I take this."
With such pride in his voice, and such an obvious reverence for the site, he instantly brought tears to my eyes. Yes, the picture was beautiful, but that he was standing there, sharing what he had captured on film and that he was willing to point that out to a stranger, it was a wonderful moment. I wished I had words to tell him how I felt, but it wasn't a moment about me anyway. It was his moment to soar. I hope he stood there all day and told everyone that he took that photo.
I walked back from the Temple to my hood. And that's when it clicked: suddenly I knew my way around my small part of Hanoi. When you travel to a big city, sometimes you have to set something up as a landmark to give you a sense of where you are in that city. If it's a city with cranky streets, nothing parallel, it's even more important. In Paris, it's easy: the Eiffel Tower is visible from almost everywhere and it's easy to orient yourself from that. In Rome, St. Peter's serves the same purpose although it's not always easy to see, but there is always a boulevard that keeps cropping up, or an old Roman ruin that lets you know where you are.
Here in Hanoi, for me, it's the lake. The Hoan Kiem Lake isn't the biggest lake in the city but it's the closest to my 'hood. If I know where the lake is, I know where I am.
This morning I needed to find my Sunday night hotel because I need to ask permission to leave one of my small bags there when I take my boat trip on Saturday. I also needed to find the agency that booked the excursion because I needed to pay the balance. They were somewhat close to each other and it didn't look far on the map, but I am never sure about that. I started walking and it was apparent that I didn't need the map, I sort of knew where it was and yes! There it was! About a half mile from where I am staying now! And the agency was a couple of blocks from that. It means that no taxis need to be involved in getting from A to B to C and back to B again. Then I wandered around town for a while and got back to the hotel without looking at the map again. What a relief.
What I said at the top of the page, about our adaptability, struck me this morning as I was strolling around town. The traffic, the random sewage smells, the jostling on the sidewalks, the spitting in the street, all the negative things are all just.... things. They are part of this city and not my concern. When we travel we carry judgements with us, like it or not. We lucky few don't live where the streets are dirty or the smells are uninviting or where the simple act of crossing the street is daunting. It's easy to be negative. But it's just as easy to give it up. It isn't mine to say whether it is negative or positive, good or bad. It isn't mine. I am just a visitor here. I have to accept it or go home.
And I am not ready for that yet.
I need to dash down to the breakfast room before they close up! Back soon.
Yesterday I went to the Temple of Literature, a 15 minute cab ride from the hotel ($2.00 US). It's a revered place in Vietnam, the site of the first university, almost a shrine to learning, according to the guidebooks. It's a serene spot with crazy traffic all around, ponds with lily pads, shrines to the elders, beautifully tended gardens, incense, schlocky gift shops, everything you would want in a national monument. Unfortunately, the serenity was blasted by hoards of teenagers celebrating their graduation from random universities. It seems it's the place to go to have group photos taken, so there were probably 5 graduating classes in graduation gowns and fancy dresses acting like 18 year old graduates everywhere: loud and self-absorbed. But it was OK, I expected it. There were little pockets of space (like in the far back corner) that were quiet and I sat there for a while.
The coolest thing was that outside, in one of the courtyards, there were about 300 photos on display, the top entries into Vietnam's 7th annual photography contest. Some were manipulated (i.e. Photoshop), some were cliched (kids with balloons) but many of them were incredible. I spent a good part of an hour walking down the rows, reading where each one was taken and who took it. There were even photos of Mono Lake and Monument Valley! And then a remarkable thing occurred: I was looking at one photo taken from the top of a mountain down at a small village (here in Vietnam) with clouds overlaying part of the village, the green of the hills brilliant. It was a very beautiful photo. There was a small man standing by it, smiling. He pointed at the photo and said "so nice." I agreed: "It is beautiful." He looked at me and said, "I take this."
With such pride in his voice, and such an obvious reverence for the site, he instantly brought tears to my eyes. Yes, the picture was beautiful, but that he was standing there, sharing what he had captured on film and that he was willing to point that out to a stranger, it was a wonderful moment. I wished I had words to tell him how I felt, but it wasn't a moment about me anyway. It was his moment to soar. I hope he stood there all day and told everyone that he took that photo.
I walked back from the Temple to my hood. And that's when it clicked: suddenly I knew my way around my small part of Hanoi. When you travel to a big city, sometimes you have to set something up as a landmark to give you a sense of where you are in that city. If it's a city with cranky streets, nothing parallel, it's even more important. In Paris, it's easy: the Eiffel Tower is visible from almost everywhere and it's easy to orient yourself from that. In Rome, St. Peter's serves the same purpose although it's not always easy to see, but there is always a boulevard that keeps cropping up, or an old Roman ruin that lets you know where you are.
Here in Hanoi, for me, it's the lake. The Hoan Kiem Lake isn't the biggest lake in the city but it's the closest to my 'hood. If I know where the lake is, I know where I am.
This morning I needed to find my Sunday night hotel because I need to ask permission to leave one of my small bags there when I take my boat trip on Saturday. I also needed to find the agency that booked the excursion because I needed to pay the balance. They were somewhat close to each other and it didn't look far on the map, but I am never sure about that. I started walking and it was apparent that I didn't need the map, I sort of knew where it was and yes! There it was! About a half mile from where I am staying now! And the agency was a couple of blocks from that. It means that no taxis need to be involved in getting from A to B to C and back to B again. Then I wandered around town for a while and got back to the hotel without looking at the map again. What a relief.
What I said at the top of the page, about our adaptability, struck me this morning as I was strolling around town. The traffic, the random sewage smells, the jostling on the sidewalks, the spitting in the street, all the negative things are all just.... things. They are part of this city and not my concern. When we travel we carry judgements with us, like it or not. We lucky few don't live where the streets are dirty or the smells are uninviting or where the simple act of crossing the street is daunting. It's easy to be negative. But it's just as easy to give it up. It isn't mine to say whether it is negative or positive, good or bad. It isn't mine. I am just a visitor here. I have to accept it or go home.
And I am not ready for that yet.
I need to dash down to the breakfast room before they close up! Back soon.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Vietnam - Day 3
Some random things:
Birds: there are songbirds all over Hanoi, which is somewhat surprising to me. Don't know why. But even in the parks there are cages nailed to trees with birds in them, someone must come by and feed them. And on street corners, guys with cages with dozens of little brown birds, not more than 3 inches long, what do they do with them, I wonder? Sell them, I hope. Or set them free. I hate to think they are tasty treats, but it could be so. However, the bird songs, especially early in the morning before the traffic noise drowns everything out, are lovely. They create a small tone of peace in a hectic city.
Passion fruit: every morning for breakfast here at the hotel we are given a plate of fresh fruit: 4 nice chunks of watermelon, 4 nice chunks of perfect banana and a passion fruit, cut in half, with a tiny spoon. Everyone scoops the flesh and seeds out of the passion fruit and devours all of it, making yummy noises. Not me. There is something about it that's too perfumey and the taste is too seedy and pulpy for me. The texture is like someone already chewed it up and then put it back but left the seeds intact. But it's cool to try something new, so yesterday I did eat half of one. Today I didn't, hoping that someone else can eat it instead.
Clockwise: again this morning I was awake early and down at the lake by 6:00, joining hundreds of others in a walk around the lake. But everyone walks the lake in one directions, clockwise. Why is that? Being a pretend rebel, I stopped, turned around and walked against the flow, feeling a bit salmon-ish but happy about it. In the hundreds of folks walking/jogging there were only about ten of us, total, going against the flow. There must be some innate reason for the clockwise agenda. Who knows, maybe south of the equator it happens in a counter-clockwise manner.
TV: I don't watch broadcast TV at home, but there are some things on here in English that I check out in the evening. One is the National Geographic channel, which I watched a bit last night, about Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer and his biggest behavioral challenges in the dog training world. Fascinating stuff, actually, how he manages to get dogs to submit and thus obey. Very few voice commands ("how can you expect a dog to stop yelling at you if you are yelling at him?") but a lot of patience and firmness. Anyway, that's not relevant to anything but general animal interest, just thought I would throw it in.
Hotels: this is a fine little hotel, but is totally booked up for the next several weeks and I needed a night in Hanoi after the boat trip and before the train trip. I seriously thought about springing for the Hotel Sofitel Metropole, very high end, very luxurious, and in a different area than I am staying now. My finger was poised over the "Book Now" key, justifying the $200 per night cost with "hey, why not?" when my sense of frugality caught up with me. (But honestly, it took a half day of going back and forth, should I or shouldn't I, what to do?) My latent Catholic guilt must have risen to the surface because I chose a 4 star hotel instead..... also rather luxurious but it was only $55 for the night. Plus I could picture me walking into the Sofitel lobby dressed like a chubby California bag lady and being a tad embarrassed. I actually walked into their lobby yesterday (thus the desire to stay there) and it was lovely. Outside the hotel areservants men in finery opening doors for people and they have classic Rolls Royce cars parked under the porte cochere, such a nice touch. Maybe next time, when I win the lottery and come back to Vietnam. Or not. But man, it was tempting. I mean, really, $200 for a night in a hotel that would no doubt cost at least $800 in SF.
Computer: I must say I am really loving having a computer in my room.... not only can I type this anytime but I can look stuff up, like passion fruit, any time I want. Such a great asset when traveling.
Today: I am going to the Temple of Literature today, the oldest university in Vietnam. Will report back.
cheers!
Birds: there are songbirds all over Hanoi, which is somewhat surprising to me. Don't know why. But even in the parks there are cages nailed to trees with birds in them, someone must come by and feed them. And on street corners, guys with cages with dozens of little brown birds, not more than 3 inches long, what do they do with them, I wonder? Sell them, I hope. Or set them free. I hate to think they are tasty treats, but it could be so. However, the bird songs, especially early in the morning before the traffic noise drowns everything out, are lovely. They create a small tone of peace in a hectic city.
Passion fruit: every morning for breakfast here at the hotel we are given a plate of fresh fruit: 4 nice chunks of watermelon, 4 nice chunks of perfect banana and a passion fruit, cut in half, with a tiny spoon. Everyone scoops the flesh and seeds out of the passion fruit and devours all of it, making yummy noises. Not me. There is something about it that's too perfumey and the taste is too seedy and pulpy for me. The texture is like someone already chewed it up and then put it back but left the seeds intact. But it's cool to try something new, so yesterday I did eat half of one. Today I didn't, hoping that someone else can eat it instead.
Clockwise: again this morning I was awake early and down at the lake by 6:00, joining hundreds of others in a walk around the lake. But everyone walks the lake in one directions, clockwise. Why is that? Being a pretend rebel, I stopped, turned around and walked against the flow, feeling a bit salmon-ish but happy about it. In the hundreds of folks walking/jogging there were only about ten of us, total, going against the flow. There must be some innate reason for the clockwise agenda. Who knows, maybe south of the equator it happens in a counter-clockwise manner.
TV: I don't watch broadcast TV at home, but there are some things on here in English that I check out in the evening. One is the National Geographic channel, which I watched a bit last night, about Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer and his biggest behavioral challenges in the dog training world. Fascinating stuff, actually, how he manages to get dogs to submit and thus obey. Very few voice commands ("how can you expect a dog to stop yelling at you if you are yelling at him?") but a lot of patience and firmness. Anyway, that's not relevant to anything but general animal interest, just thought I would throw it in.
Hotels: this is a fine little hotel, but is totally booked up for the next several weeks and I needed a night in Hanoi after the boat trip and before the train trip. I seriously thought about springing for the Hotel Sofitel Metropole, very high end, very luxurious, and in a different area than I am staying now. My finger was poised over the "Book Now" key, justifying the $200 per night cost with "hey, why not?" when my sense of frugality caught up with me. (But honestly, it took a half day of going back and forth, should I or shouldn't I, what to do?) My latent Catholic guilt must have risen to the surface because I chose a 4 star hotel instead..... also rather luxurious but it was only $55 for the night. Plus I could picture me walking into the Sofitel lobby dressed like a chubby California bag lady and being a tad embarrassed. I actually walked into their lobby yesterday (thus the desire to stay there) and it was lovely. Outside the hotel are
Computer: I must say I am really loving having a computer in my room.... not only can I type this anytime but I can look stuff up, like passion fruit, any time I want. Such a great asset when traveling.
Today: I am going to the Temple of Literature today, the oldest university in Vietnam. Will report back.
cheers!
Vietnam, Day 2
Having walked around Hoan Kiem Lake for the third time today, I was sitting on a bench wondering why I keep getting lost, knowing it's because my premier navigator is not with me and resigning myself to that fact, when 4 young Vietnamese kids came up to me and asked if I would help them practice their English. At first I thought they were going to scam me out of some money, like Chatty Postcard Guy did this morning, but no, they just wanted to chat with an American lady with gray hair. We chatted, or tried to. They were so cute and amazed by the simplest things, like the map of Hanoi I had and the fact that I had eaten pho and drank a Saigon beer. Other kids joined them and after about ten minutes we had a class of 10 kids practicing their English. We were starting to draw attention. Finally, I told them class was over and they had to now practice on their own. Sweet kids, and what a surprise!
Lights were out at 8:15 last night and I slept like a pork bun until 5:00 this morning, so was showered and out of the hotel by 6:15. (It gets light earlier here, since we are closer to the equator.) The street I am on is an open-air market, it turns out, already busy at 6:15 and much busier at 8:30 when I returned. This sort of market isn't like the ones you find in Europe, where they are organized and the goods are up at waist-high level most of the time. Many of the streets here are very narrow and are made up of rows of small shops selling everything from car parts to leather to toys to silk. Most stalls are really small, 5 or 6 feet wide and maybe 12 feet deep. But at market time (mornings) in front of whatever they normally sell are their market products: fruits, vegetables, fried goods and meat. Lots of meat. Lots of meat parts, entrails, feet, heads, roasts, minced and sliced meats. And not on a table, but on a piece of wood on the ground or on a piece of wood on top of a milk-crate sort of box. The veggies and fruits are in boxes or crates or also on the ground. This is all not so bad at 6:15 but by 10:00 or 11:00, when it is getting closer to 80 degrees, the meat begins to smell. By noon it is, to this westerner, nauseating. It's a thick, viscous smell. Gags me.
But around the lake in the morning, getting back to that, are hundreds of people doing various exercise routines. Lots of old people doing Tai Chi sorts of things, lots of old people just patting their legs, (trying to wake their legs up, perhaps) young men seriously lifting weights, lots and lots of women in different groups "working out" to the 1980's Jazzercize kind of music, complete with 1980's music like Cyndy Lauper. There are groups practicing ballroom dancing, many people are sitting and meditating, some are jogging and hundreds more are just walking around the lake. It was a lovely morning, probably about 68 degrees out so most of them had their wool coats and scarves on to ward off the bitter cold. I will go again tomorrow morning, earlier, because one woman I talked to said it is even better at 5:30! I suppose all that early morning exercise is inspiring to some, but not me. I just found it entertaining.
After that I came back to the hotel and had my free, made to order breakfast which was quite good, especially the fresh mango juice and the coffee. (They were shocked I asked for a second cup of coffee, it's that strong. They don't know a tough American when they see one.) Later I went back out to the lake and was sitting on a bench, minding my own business, when a young, clever fellow came by and started chatting with me, and before I knew it I was buying a set of ten post cards from him. I couldn't say no and although he wanted 180,000 dong, I only had 80,000 with me and he reluctantly (very reluctantly: "where are you staying? I could come with you and you can give me the rest. Don't you have any American dollars with you?") settled for the 80,000. Yes, I know it was a rip off (a whole $4.00) but he was so insistent and so amazed by America and San Francisco ("I know what it's like because I see it on TV all the time") that it was the least I could do.
My crossing the street technique is getting better and better with practice. I only fear for my life about 25% of the time now. But it is so crazy because they come at you from all angles and even one-way streets have cars and scooters going both ways, and even on sidewalks they drive if they are in a hurry. Not to mention that more than half the time you have to walk in the street because the sidewalks are a site of commerce or parking for the scooters or a pop-up pho place. I swear, there are these little tiny stools that folks sit on, about 6 inches off the ground, and all during the day those stools are occupied by people eating food. Metal containers of fire are heating up broth or hot oil and you have to avoid those at all costs, so it becomes a toss up: walk in the street and get run over or walk on the sidewalk and get scalded or burned! Take your pick!
It's not that bad, actually, just a little difficult because it's a new challenge. It's a challenge that you must conquer because if you don't, you either die or get seriously maimed. That's motivation enough. Plus there's the embarassment factor: if you are the only wuss on the corner afraid to cross the street, you know they are all thinking "well, no wonder you couldn't win the stupid war." Honestly, I have seen some Americans trembling on the corner and it makes me stand up tall and stride out there, scooters be damned! No whimpering for this fat target!
OK, time to read a book and drink a lot of bottled water. Back at you later.
Lights were out at 8:15 last night and I slept like a pork bun until 5:00 this morning, so was showered and out of the hotel by 6:15. (It gets light earlier here, since we are closer to the equator.) The street I am on is an open-air market, it turns out, already busy at 6:15 and much busier at 8:30 when I returned. This sort of market isn't like the ones you find in Europe, where they are organized and the goods are up at waist-high level most of the time. Many of the streets here are very narrow and are made up of rows of small shops selling everything from car parts to leather to toys to silk. Most stalls are really small, 5 or 6 feet wide and maybe 12 feet deep. But at market time (mornings) in front of whatever they normally sell are their market products: fruits, vegetables, fried goods and meat. Lots of meat. Lots of meat parts, entrails, feet, heads, roasts, minced and sliced meats. And not on a table, but on a piece of wood on the ground or on a piece of wood on top of a milk-crate sort of box. The veggies and fruits are in boxes or crates or also on the ground. This is all not so bad at 6:15 but by 10:00 or 11:00, when it is getting closer to 80 degrees, the meat begins to smell. By noon it is, to this westerner, nauseating. It's a thick, viscous smell. Gags me.
But around the lake in the morning, getting back to that, are hundreds of people doing various exercise routines. Lots of old people doing Tai Chi sorts of things, lots of old people just patting their legs, (trying to wake their legs up, perhaps) young men seriously lifting weights, lots and lots of women in different groups "working out" to the 1980's Jazzercize kind of music, complete with 1980's music like Cyndy Lauper. There are groups practicing ballroom dancing, many people are sitting and meditating, some are jogging and hundreds more are just walking around the lake. It was a lovely morning, probably about 68 degrees out so most of them had their wool coats and scarves on to ward off the bitter cold. I will go again tomorrow morning, earlier, because one woman I talked to said it is even better at 5:30! I suppose all that early morning exercise is inspiring to some, but not me. I just found it entertaining.
After that I came back to the hotel and had my free, made to order breakfast which was quite good, especially the fresh mango juice and the coffee. (They were shocked I asked for a second cup of coffee, it's that strong. They don't know a tough American when they see one.) Later I went back out to the lake and was sitting on a bench, minding my own business, when a young, clever fellow came by and started chatting with me, and before I knew it I was buying a set of ten post cards from him. I couldn't say no and although he wanted 180,000 dong, I only had 80,000 with me and he reluctantly (very reluctantly: "where are you staying? I could come with you and you can give me the rest. Don't you have any American dollars with you?") settled for the 80,000. Yes, I know it was a rip off (a whole $4.00) but he was so insistent and so amazed by America and San Francisco ("I know what it's like because I see it on TV all the time") that it was the least I could do.
My crossing the street technique is getting better and better with practice. I only fear for my life about 25% of the time now. But it is so crazy because they come at you from all angles and even one-way streets have cars and scooters going both ways, and even on sidewalks they drive if they are in a hurry. Not to mention that more than half the time you have to walk in the street because the sidewalks are a site of commerce or parking for the scooters or a pop-up pho place. I swear, there are these little tiny stools that folks sit on, about 6 inches off the ground, and all during the day those stools are occupied by people eating food. Metal containers of fire are heating up broth or hot oil and you have to avoid those at all costs, so it becomes a toss up: walk in the street and get run over or walk on the sidewalk and get scalded or burned! Take your pick!
It's not that bad, actually, just a little difficult because it's a new challenge. It's a challenge that you must conquer because if you don't, you either die or get seriously maimed. That's motivation enough. Plus there's the embarassment factor: if you are the only wuss on the corner afraid to cross the street, you know they are all thinking "well, no wonder you couldn't win the stupid war." Honestly, I have seen some Americans trembling on the corner and it makes me stand up tall and stride out there, scooters be damned! No whimpering for this fat target!
OK, time to read a book and drink a lot of bottled water. Back at you later.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Craziness in the streets
It isn't just that there is a lot of traffic, there are no traffic rules and thus everyone just does whatever they want, rules be damned! No one drives on the right or left, they drive on both and in the middle! Scooters going both directions, cars in the middle, or two sort of lanes of cars going in both directions and scooters in the middle and on the edges, going in opposite directions! It makes crossing the streets much more dangerous than in London, for example, where you just have to worry about getting hit if you don't look both ways. Here, both ways don't cut it. You need to have 380 degree vision and not care about your life!
But I did it, I crossed many streets today. It gets a lot worse at night because many of the scooters don't have head lights, so you never see them. Those are the ones usually being driven by old gramma ladies, in their 80's, a snarl on their lips, an "out of my way, bitch" gleam in their eyes. Then they go back to making goo-goo noises at their grandkids, I'm sure. And you can't really walk on the sidewalks because they are crammed with parked scooters so you have to walk in the streets, which puts you even more at risk. At least you are not alone. I often just follow some young guys as they cross the streets because no one is going to hit three people at a time. Of course, that makes me have absolutely no idea where I am after about 20 minutes, but it's all an adventure anyway. So far I have managed to find my way back to the hotel. No thanks to the map, which looks like someone tossed small bits of toothpicks onto a sheet of paper and called it good. Nothing is perpendicular or straight. It makes the streets in Rome look positively linear and organized.
I also had a bowl of pho, which I ate with my lame-ass chopstick technique (but everyone uses chopsticks and a wide spoon, so I was saved) and at first I thought "holy crap, 40,000 dong for a bowl of soup? But I couldn't finish it, the bowl was huge and wait! It cost less than $2.00 US dollars! What? I went out tonight to wander and risk my life and went into a funky upstairs cafe to have a beer in the open bar overlooking the street (hours of free entertainment) and thought the same thing, 30,000 dong for a beer, but that's less than a buck fifty for a really good Saigon beer.
So, I can cross off crossing the streets, eating pho, getting lost and then found, and listening to hits from the 1960's while drinking said beer...... so far, this Vietnam thing ain't so bad.
But I did it, I crossed many streets today. It gets a lot worse at night because many of the scooters don't have head lights, so you never see them. Those are the ones usually being driven by old gramma ladies, in their 80's, a snarl on their lips, an "out of my way, bitch" gleam in their eyes. Then they go back to making goo-goo noises at their grandkids, I'm sure. And you can't really walk on the sidewalks because they are crammed with parked scooters so you have to walk in the streets, which puts you even more at risk. At least you are not alone. I often just follow some young guys as they cross the streets because no one is going to hit three people at a time. Of course, that makes me have absolutely no idea where I am after about 20 minutes, but it's all an adventure anyway. So far I have managed to find my way back to the hotel. No thanks to the map, which looks like someone tossed small bits of toothpicks onto a sheet of paper and called it good. Nothing is perpendicular or straight. It makes the streets in Rome look positively linear and organized.
I also had a bowl of pho, which I ate with my lame-ass chopstick technique (but everyone uses chopsticks and a wide spoon, so I was saved) and at first I thought "holy crap, 40,000 dong for a bowl of soup? But I couldn't finish it, the bowl was huge and wait! It cost less than $2.00 US dollars! What? I went out tonight to wander and risk my life and went into a funky upstairs cafe to have a beer in the open bar overlooking the street (hours of free entertainment) and thought the same thing, 30,000 dong for a beer, but that's less than a buck fifty for a really good Saigon beer.
So, I can cross off crossing the streets, eating pho, getting lost and then found, and listening to hits from the 1960's while drinking said beer...... so far, this Vietnam thing ain't so bad.
Monday, December 2, 2013
In Vietnam, Day 1
It takes a long time to get to Vietnam. 16 hours of air time plus at least 4 hours of airport time, plus an hour taxi ride from the airport to the hotel. And crossing the International Date Line (an imaginary line, albeit an important one) means I lost a day somewhere, (I must have left it on the plane) so it is now Tuesday, a little after noon. Since I was at SFO at 8:30 pm on Sunday night, the journey sounds longer than it was because of that missing day.
The flight wasn't bad, I had one seat empty next to me and a bottle of Ambien. One Ambien pretty much knocks you out for 8 hours, so I sort of slept, as much as you can sitting up in a tiny little seat made for tiny Asian people. (And we all know that I am NOT tiny.) But I feel pretty good, considering.
And remember the big uproar when airlines stopped giving us free meals? After a couple of years of no meals on domestic flights, I had almost forgotten how terrible they were...... and now I remember. Eggs, so they said, although they didn't look or taste like eggs from a chicken, more like a photo of eggs blown up and constructed out of something that resembled soft Styrofoam. A sausage that must have been made out of an animal that doesn't exist in the U.S. It tasted like sweet meat and PineSol, an unlikely combo in a real critter. Something that could have been a rice cake or a potato cake, I honestly could not tell which. But the coffee was damn good and the yogurt was rich and creamy, so all was not lost.
The hotel was supposed to pick me up at the airport, supposed to have a guy with a sign with my name on it but that didn't happen right away. I had to figure out how to call the hotel, which I did by asking the information booth to call for me, and they did! An hour later I was at the hotel, being charmed by the young staff, given a cup of delicious Vietnamese coffee, a map, suggestions on what to do and when. Now I am in my sweet little room with my own computer! How cool is that?
The ride in was crazy.....industrial areas around the airport, everything is under construction, lots of small gardens right off the freeway, hazy skies, everyone wearing face masks (not like Freddy Kruger, more like ER) because of what, I wonder. Finally we got downtown and it is a maze of tiny, tiny streets filled with people and scooters and food stalls, honking horns, swerving cars. Everyone seems to multi-task while driving: talking on a phone while eating food while holding onto packages while waving to friends while making dangerous turns while driving. The streets are so narrow that cars don't go down many of them. The hotel is on such a street and the car they transported me in was met on the corner by the young staff, who escorted me to the hotel, half a block down.
I am curiously wide awake. Oh, yes, there was that coffee an hour ago. My room is fine, very clean, decent size, rose petals on the bed (seriously) and air conditioning that I can control. I am off to explore for a while. Today is the first day of the lunar calendar (i.e. new moon) and thus is a day of honoring one's ancestors. Let's see what that looks like out in the street.
See photos of where I am staying, although the lobby is a lot smaller in real life: www.hanoiserenehotel.com
Off we go.
The flight wasn't bad, I had one seat empty next to me and a bottle of Ambien. One Ambien pretty much knocks you out for 8 hours, so I sort of slept, as much as you can sitting up in a tiny little seat made for tiny Asian people. (And we all know that I am NOT tiny.) But I feel pretty good, considering.
And remember the big uproar when airlines stopped giving us free meals? After a couple of years of no meals on domestic flights, I had almost forgotten how terrible they were...... and now I remember. Eggs, so they said, although they didn't look or taste like eggs from a chicken, more like a photo of eggs blown up and constructed out of something that resembled soft Styrofoam. A sausage that must have been made out of an animal that doesn't exist in the U.S. It tasted like sweet meat and PineSol, an unlikely combo in a real critter. Something that could have been a rice cake or a potato cake, I honestly could not tell which. But the coffee was damn good and the yogurt was rich and creamy, so all was not lost.
The hotel was supposed to pick me up at the airport, supposed to have a guy with a sign with my name on it but that didn't happen right away. I had to figure out how to call the hotel, which I did by asking the information booth to call for me, and they did! An hour later I was at the hotel, being charmed by the young staff, given a cup of delicious Vietnamese coffee, a map, suggestions on what to do and when. Now I am in my sweet little room with my own computer! How cool is that?
The ride in was crazy.....industrial areas around the airport, everything is under construction, lots of small gardens right off the freeway, hazy skies, everyone wearing face masks (not like Freddy Kruger, more like ER) because of what, I wonder. Finally we got downtown and it is a maze of tiny, tiny streets filled with people and scooters and food stalls, honking horns, swerving cars. Everyone seems to multi-task while driving: talking on a phone while eating food while holding onto packages while waving to friends while making dangerous turns while driving. The streets are so narrow that cars don't go down many of them. The hotel is on such a street and the car they transported me in was met on the corner by the young staff, who escorted me to the hotel, half a block down.
I am curiously wide awake. Oh, yes, there was that coffee an hour ago. My room is fine, very clean, decent size, rose petals on the bed (seriously) and air conditioning that I can control. I am off to explore for a while. Today is the first day of the lunar calendar (i.e. new moon) and thus is a day of honoring one's ancestors. Let's see what that looks like out in the street.
See photos of where I am staying, although the lobby is a lot smaller in real life: www.hanoiserenehotel.com
Off we go.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Wheels up in 8 hours
Yep, at five minutes past midnight tonight I will be jetting off to Vietnam, to a culture and a country totally foreign to me. I know no language, can't use chopsticks, have no points of reference other than what I have read in guidebooks, but I intend to have a really good time and a great adventure. And if I don't have a really good time I will still have a great adventure. Sleeping on a boat, trying to cross the street in Hanoi, taking an overnight train trip with strangers sleeping near me...... all of that is an adventure waiting to happen.
Along the way I will try and pop into cybercafes and catch up on this blog, just to let you know where I am and what I am doing, where I am going and what I already did. Who knows, it might be interesting and/or funny or informative, but it might be none of the above. I honestly don't know.
Away we go!
Along the way I will try and pop into cybercafes and catch up on this blog, just to let you know where I am and what I am doing, where I am going and what I already did. Who knows, it might be interesting and/or funny or informative, but it might be none of the above. I honestly don't know.
Away we go!
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