We are now in flight to Luang Prabang, Laos leaving Our week in Vietnam. The only time to take a break and reflect/write is in flight - otherwise there is too much to see and do. Nate's last update was the first morning we awoke in Hanoi when I was feeling ill and sleeping off my stomach pains. During that morning Nate studied the ways of crossing the busy scooter-laden intersections of madly beeping vehicles. He also wisely assessed the hustling pace of the city and decided to choose a few quiet sanctuary- like restaurants, parks and cafes as destinations to head for during my recooperation.
As we were walking north along the lake Nate took my hand and we headed out to cross a crazy intersection. I squeezed his hand and he felt my hesitation but quickly explained that as long as you don't stop no one will be confused and it will all work out. It turns out that is the case and we were frequently traversing the streets with ease. I must say it's easier with 2 people so you each look one direction and it feels much safer with a hand being held. That being said my preference is sitting in a bicycle taxi and just watching it all go by.
Our second day in Hanoi we headed out to Halong Bay which started out with a 3.5 hour van ride. It was comfortable and beautiful as we passed hundreds of plots of rice paddies and watched the farmers work the land. The rice sprouts are young in the season (about month 1 of 3) with some fields growing baby sprouts, some fields had sprounts which were being hand harvested and bundled for transplantation, and some of the plots were being plowed by water buffalo to ready them for planting. The farmers wear round straw hats, and knee high rubbers boots as the Wade in the marshy fields (although there were some bare feet too). Watering is done by a brilliant primative method where bamboo tripods are set up next to the aqueduct and a large scoop is swung so the water is gathered and swung over the small dirt mound into the farmers irrigation channels.
When we arrived at Halong City port we were guided to our "Junk" (boat) where we met 2 German women from Frankfurt and an American woman from New York. We all boarded and looked around the huge wooden boat, with rooms to accomodate 16, and realized we were the only guests are were there to enjoy the boat and 6 staff for 24 hours. I realized that now was the time to feel like royalty transported to another time and land.
We were served an amazing lunch of fresh crab and shrimp along with rice and vegetables as we began motoring through the dreamy misty bay of huge limestone islands (there are about 2000, half of which are named). We laid on the sun deck on chaise lounges and watched the outcroppings pass by. We arrived outside the bay of a fishing village and motored in on our small boat to a floating dock. From there we boarded a small round boat made of thatched reeds and painted, on the outside, with waterproof tar. The boat was rowed by a petite strong local woman with two narrow oars (much like the stoechling boats in the Rhein in Basel). She took us into the floating village where people earned their living by fishing and selling/trading with the mainlanders. They live out in this secluded bay which is protected somewhat from typhoons. Their village center consisted of several different fish farms and a tiny one room primary school where the local children receive their only formal education.
We saw a small 5 year old boy out alone efficiently paddling a boat with all his might. There were no obvious vigilant eyes on him but I am pretty certain he couldn't find himself in too much trouble with such a close knit community. Nate and I laughed when we thought of what the dating scene might be like there!
We motored back to our Junk and had time to take a few plunges from the top of our boat into the beautiful clear water. Our friends took a hilarious photo of us jumping into the bay... Despite the danger of posting a photo of us in bathing suits on this website I think this picture is worth about a thousand words.
After warm showers we sat on the deck and watched the sunset and then sat down to another delicious dinner of crab, calamari, shrimp, taro, veggies and rice. Needless to say we feasted and enjoyed the scenery and the quiet.
After that is where Nate and my experience veered from each other as he was pretty sick most of the night with very similar stomach pains to what I had the few days before. They subsided after a day or so and he was able to make the van ride back to Hanoi but was very relieved when we settled back into our hotel for the night. Now he is fully recovered and we both feel our digestive systems are stronger and ready for the rest of the trip.
Ok, I will sign off here as we are now in Luang Prabang, Laos and its completely amazing here and tropical and (relatively) quiet and peaceful. We have eaten wonderful food and are on our way to a waterfall so I need to run and get ready. Neither of us can believe we are just starting week #2!!!!!
xo Cinda
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Hoi An to Ha Noi anagramathon
Take a close look at our new profile photo - yes, that is a scooter immaculately tailored in hand-stitched leather. Every square inch of it. If I sat still for too long here, I might end up looking like that...
Cinda awoke at 3 AM on our last day in Hoi An and busied herself with I-don't-know-what until she came back to the room at dawn. She was excited about the sunrise and so I went to the roof with her to see a pale tangerine sun shining weakly through the morning haze. After a quick breakfast we commandeered a couple hotel bikes and pedaled to the beach through the rice patties and hastily constructed concrete buildings. Shrines dot the roadside everywhere you look, and Cinda was particularly fond of one at the edge of a field that included a can of Coke and a beer. I'd never thought of it that way before, but I bet you can really work up a thirst when you're responsible for bringing the rains and good harvests and healthy families all day long. Bottoms up!
Our last errand before leaving Hoi An was at the shoe store. The shoe stores here look like ordinary shoe stores, in that there are racks and walls covered with different styles to choose from. But that's where the similarity ends. Once you find something you like, you take off your own shoes so they can measure your feet, and then pick out the materials and colors that you want. The order is handed to mom and she jumps on her scooter and races off, returning the next morning with a pair of brand new hand-stitched shoes, still reeking of glue and polish. After airmailing our goods back home, we headed to the train.
The women on the train platform in Da Nang stack and organize their wares in precision tiers, a stadium of snacks, dried fish, fruit, and drinks. Yet there are no players on the field in this stadium. Why? Because the Train Station Lady runs a very tight ship, and no one is allowed out the door onto the platform until the train arrives. I found this out the hard way, as I pushed open the door and stepped out to watch the single locomotives pushing a boxcar or two around the yard. I hadn't gotten two steps before TSL grabbed me and shot me a look of disgust and disappointment, folded together and topped with powdered pity. Cinda - as she does - found this very, very, very amusing and proceeded to dare me to go back out on the platform many times, but I have no stomach for such spectacle.
At last our train arrived and the women on the platform had their fleeting moment to sell their goods to the boarding passengers before the TSL once again isolated them. We found our 1st class overnight berth, and without going into specifics, let me say that it did not look like the picture. As we pulled out of the station, we decided to try the age-old traveler's trick to survive such a trip and got 4 ice-cold Heinekens from the dining car. However, we couldn't stay in the dining car, because it was filled with unidentifiable grill smoke (see: carcass car on Chilean trains). We found some backward-facing seats and watched an awesome landscape of steep tropical slopes ringing small palm-lined rice patties that grew right to the sandy beaches at the water's edge. Despite the beauty, we called an audible and stepped off our overnight train in Hue, the ancient capital, and caught a taxi to the airport.
Our taxi driver called ahead to check on flight times from the one-gate airport and confirmed that we could make the last flight. He even brought us into the terminal and handed us off to the ticket agent. Tickets in hand, we stepped out into the pleasant night and sat on the quiet curb, watching the moths in the streetlights and listening to the dance music quitely bumping from the back of a taxi to a throng of drivers who sat on their heels, whispering and laughing. I had been having some problems with digestion - or more precisely, a lack thereof - so Cinda got out her acupuncture needles and gave me a treatment right there in the drop-off zone. No one paid us much mind, but eventually a pair of older ladies in floral print shirts stepped closer, and began pointing at the locations of the needles and the points that Cinda was massaging. It seems one woman was familiar with Chinese medicine, and she recited the names of each point in Vietnamese, while Cinda echoed her in Chinese. And based on the points that Cinda was treating, the woman looked at me and circled her belly with her hand while blowing out her cheeks, apparently the international sign for constipation. I sheepishly nodded and she smiled sympathetically.
We arrived in Hanoi with only enough time for a quick walk and a bite. I ordered a pizza which was surprising good, given that it was essentially a pile of vegetables and a sprinkle of cheese on a thin cracker (like the 'serving suggestion' on a box of Triscuits). And now I'm wandering the Old Quarter of Hanoi on a hazy morning while Cinda rests, and marveling about how much Krazy Glue the shoeshine guy just put on my shoes.
-Nate
Cinda awoke at 3 AM on our last day in Hoi An and busied herself with I-don't-know-what until she came back to the room at dawn. She was excited about the sunrise and so I went to the roof with her to see a pale tangerine sun shining weakly through the morning haze. After a quick breakfast we commandeered a couple hotel bikes and pedaled to the beach through the rice patties and hastily constructed concrete buildings. Shrines dot the roadside everywhere you look, and Cinda was particularly fond of one at the edge of a field that included a can of Coke and a beer. I'd never thought of it that way before, but I bet you can really work up a thirst when you're responsible for bringing the rains and good harvests and healthy families all day long. Bottoms up!
Our last errand before leaving Hoi An was at the shoe store. The shoe stores here look like ordinary shoe stores, in that there are racks and walls covered with different styles to choose from. But that's where the similarity ends. Once you find something you like, you take off your own shoes so they can measure your feet, and then pick out the materials and colors that you want. The order is handed to mom and she jumps on her scooter and races off, returning the next morning with a pair of brand new hand-stitched shoes, still reeking of glue and polish. After airmailing our goods back home, we headed to the train.
The women on the train platform in Da Nang stack and organize their wares in precision tiers, a stadium of snacks, dried fish, fruit, and drinks. Yet there are no players on the field in this stadium. Why? Because the Train Station Lady runs a very tight ship, and no one is allowed out the door onto the platform until the train arrives. I found this out the hard way, as I pushed open the door and stepped out to watch the single locomotives pushing a boxcar or two around the yard. I hadn't gotten two steps before TSL grabbed me and shot me a look of disgust and disappointment, folded together and topped with powdered pity. Cinda - as she does - found this very, very, very amusing and proceeded to dare me to go back out on the platform many times, but I have no stomach for such spectacle.
At last our train arrived and the women on the platform had their fleeting moment to sell their goods to the boarding passengers before the TSL once again isolated them. We found our 1st class overnight berth, and without going into specifics, let me say that it did not look like the picture. As we pulled out of the station, we decided to try the age-old traveler's trick to survive such a trip and got 4 ice-cold Heinekens from the dining car. However, we couldn't stay in the dining car, because it was filled with unidentifiable grill smoke (see: carcass car on Chilean trains). We found some backward-facing seats and watched an awesome landscape of steep tropical slopes ringing small palm-lined rice patties that grew right to the sandy beaches at the water's edge. Despite the beauty, we called an audible and stepped off our overnight train in Hue, the ancient capital, and caught a taxi to the airport.
Our taxi driver called ahead to check on flight times from the one-gate airport and confirmed that we could make the last flight. He even brought us into the terminal and handed us off to the ticket agent. Tickets in hand, we stepped out into the pleasant night and sat on the quiet curb, watching the moths in the streetlights and listening to the dance music quitely bumping from the back of a taxi to a throng of drivers who sat on their heels, whispering and laughing. I had been having some problems with digestion - or more precisely, a lack thereof - so Cinda got out her acupuncture needles and gave me a treatment right there in the drop-off zone. No one paid us much mind, but eventually a pair of older ladies in floral print shirts stepped closer, and began pointing at the locations of the needles and the points that Cinda was massaging. It seems one woman was familiar with Chinese medicine, and she recited the names of each point in Vietnamese, while Cinda echoed her in Chinese. And based on the points that Cinda was treating, the woman looked at me and circled her belly with her hand while blowing out her cheeks, apparently the international sign for constipation. I sheepishly nodded and she smiled sympathetically.
We arrived in Hanoi with only enough time for a quick walk and a bite. I ordered a pizza which was surprising good, given that it was essentially a pile of vegetables and a sprinkle of cheese on a thin cracker (like the 'serving suggestion' on a box of Triscuits). And now I'm wandering the Old Quarter of Hanoi on a hazy morning while Cinda rests, and marveling about how much Krazy Glue the shoeshine guy just put on my shoes.
-Nate
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
settling in; Hoi An
We are making the best use of our days and now calculating our early to bed and early to rise times based on when the cafe across the road turns off its loud Vietnamese music at 10.30pm. This quiet also marks the sudden halt of the whizzing and beeping of the scooters zipping by. Then it all quickly fires back up at 6am, which is when all the hotel guests seem to rise and make their way to breakfast. Its funny to me that here the use of the horn is more like a bantering of conversation rather than an act of aggression. Even on the highway, where there is one lane for cars and one for scooters/bikes) a car can travel behind a truck and beep its horn for 1 minute straight before the trucker finally decides to slowly veer to the right. There is no frusteration or agrression between either the 'passer' or the 'passee' - its just common practice, as though they were just chatting with one another before moving on.
Today is our 3rd and last day in Hoi An; it is beautiful here and we have well contributed to the economy of the skilled tailors and shoe makers, and eaten very well with plenty of fresh seafood and spring rolls. Yesterday we took a 3 hour side trip to My Son which is about a 1 hour drive away. Its an amazingly beautiful site of Hindu temples built of bricks with figures carved into them which was built in about the 9th century. On the drive out there we passed thru small clusters of towns and by a surprising amount of cemetaries, or single/double graves which were raised above the rice patties. The burial sites look celebratory and resemble a well-tended brightly painted carnival.
I certainly feel like I'm on vacation as I find myself enjoying the traveling between places as much as I do arriving at the destinations. The 10.5 hour flight from San Francisco to Tokyo passed very quickly as I started a new novel (The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down) and watched the Michael Jackson documentary: This Is It. The 6.5 hour journey from Tokyo to Ho Chi Mihn City (HCMC) seemed like the right time to get some sleep. Luckily I was determined and small enough to curl up between the arm rests of my seat, and Nate (unbenownst to me) used me and my neck pillow as a cushion and we both were able to get some shuteye. There is no place I would have rather been. Traveling widens the boundaries of my mind and gives me new perspective on everything. My brain feels like its softening and my body feels like its unwinding into a new state of being.
We are so lucky to be taking this trip.
When we arrived in HCMC the sound and presence of all the scooters became more dense as we neared the city. Both Nate and I were relieved to see both scooter drivers and passengers wearing helmets, so it seems to be a law here though we have yet to see any law enforcement anywhere. In the day it became more evident that the helmet law doesn't apply to children who are either propped against or afixed to the front of the driver or sandwiched between as many adults as can fit on the seat. The max we've seen is a family of 5. The only universal precaution for both children and adults on the scooters is a cloth face mask which covers the nose and mouth, and comes in many different colors and fabrics. The face mask here, like in China, is a widely accepted fashion accessory.
Children seem to be very well loved and cared for here with their parents constantly laughing, hugging, and speaking with them. On the 6.5 hr flight into HCMC a woman had her 1 year old on her lap for the entirety of the trip and let him stretch from her arms over her stretch out crossed legs. The boy slept quietly for the entire flight and then woke up in time to deboard without a single peep.
Tomorrow we will try to have a quick bike ride to the beach before getting our things together and heading back to Da Nang to catch the train up to Hanoi. We leave at 1.30p and get into Hanoi at 4.30a (ouch). The first part of the trip, which will be in the daylight will be very scenic and goes along the coast. We are optimistically thinking the sleeper car will be sleepable...but will plan to keep our headlamps and novels close at hand in case it's not! Once we arrive we'll figure out our plan to get out to Halong Bay and see about taking an overnight boat to explore the phosphorescent waters there. The weather has been amazing, comfortable both day and night, so we'll see what its like in Hanoi which is a bit further north and probably cooler than here.
With any luck in Hanoi we will find a computer to download and post our photos.
I hope you are all well! Traveling and being in such different surroundings always reminds me of how much I have to be appreciative of in my life..especially my friends and family.
xo, Cinda
Today is our 3rd and last day in Hoi An; it is beautiful here and we have well contributed to the economy of the skilled tailors and shoe makers, and eaten very well with plenty of fresh seafood and spring rolls. Yesterday we took a 3 hour side trip to My Son which is about a 1 hour drive away. Its an amazingly beautiful site of Hindu temples built of bricks with figures carved into them which was built in about the 9th century. On the drive out there we passed thru small clusters of towns and by a surprising amount of cemetaries, or single/double graves which were raised above the rice patties. The burial sites look celebratory and resemble a well-tended brightly painted carnival.
I certainly feel like I'm on vacation as I find myself enjoying the traveling between places as much as I do arriving at the destinations. The 10.5 hour flight from San Francisco to Tokyo passed very quickly as I started a new novel (The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down) and watched the Michael Jackson documentary: This Is It. The 6.5 hour journey from Tokyo to Ho Chi Mihn City (HCMC) seemed like the right time to get some sleep. Luckily I was determined and small enough to curl up between the arm rests of my seat, and Nate (unbenownst to me) used me and my neck pillow as a cushion and we both were able to get some shuteye. There is no place I would have rather been. Traveling widens the boundaries of my mind and gives me new perspective on everything. My brain feels like its softening and my body feels like its unwinding into a new state of being.
We are so lucky to be taking this trip.
When we arrived in HCMC the sound and presence of all the scooters became more dense as we neared the city. Both Nate and I were relieved to see both scooter drivers and passengers wearing helmets, so it seems to be a law here though we have yet to see any law enforcement anywhere. In the day it became more evident that the helmet law doesn't apply to children who are either propped against or afixed to the front of the driver or sandwiched between as many adults as can fit on the seat. The max we've seen is a family of 5. The only universal precaution for both children and adults on the scooters is a cloth face mask which covers the nose and mouth, and comes in many different colors and fabrics. The face mask here, like in China, is a widely accepted fashion accessory.
Children seem to be very well loved and cared for here with their parents constantly laughing, hugging, and speaking with them. On the 6.5 hr flight into HCMC a woman had her 1 year old on her lap for the entirety of the trip and let him stretch from her arms over her stretch out crossed legs. The boy slept quietly for the entire flight and then woke up in time to deboard without a single peep.
Tomorrow we will try to have a quick bike ride to the beach before getting our things together and heading back to Da Nang to catch the train up to Hanoi. We leave at 1.30p and get into Hanoi at 4.30a (ouch). The first part of the trip, which will be in the daylight will be very scenic and goes along the coast. We are optimistically thinking the sleeper car will be sleepable...but will plan to keep our headlamps and novels close at hand in case it's not! Once we arrive we'll figure out our plan to get out to Halong Bay and see about taking an overnight boat to explore the phosphorescent waters there. The weather has been amazing, comfortable both day and night, so we'll see what its like in Hanoi which is a bit further north and probably cooler than here.
With any luck in Hanoi we will find a computer to download and post our photos.
I hope you are all well! Traveling and being in such different surroundings always reminds me of how much I have to be appreciative of in my life..especially my friends and family.
xo, Cinda
Monday, February 22, 2010
Welcome to Vietnam
Cinda and I spent a seemingly endless Saturday afternoon chasing the setting sun toward Tokyo, watching movie after movie and chatting in the galley over cups of box wine with the flight attendants about how to deal with the stresses of unpleasant passengers (1. anti-depressants; 2. buddhism). After a quick stroll through the Tokyo airport (cubist lounges, spas, fried shrimp ebi burgers at McDonald's), we were back in the air and bound for Saigon, known (only) officially as Ho Chi Minh City, after their mustachioed and goateed smiling former president.
We had been advised and warned about the hectic pace of Saigon's streets, but we arrived near midnight on a Sunday night, a time which acts as a beekeeper's smoke in calming the hive. Instead we rolled slowly through half-dark and nearly empty streets, the frequent portraits of Ho Chi Minh curiously mirrored by one of advertising's biggest dumb-luck successes in all history - Colonel Sanders and his mustache, goatee, and warm smile (the Colonel plays well in China, too, where he looks to me like Confucius' little brother).
It was after midnight in Saigon but 8 AM back home, so we were wide awake and ready to stroll. The warm night was enveloping ("like a blanket" said Cinda) as we walked through festive boulevards still vibrant with fresh flowers and paper lanterns from the Lunar New Year celebration last weekend. But restaurants were hard to come by, so we settled on Chinese food at a brightly lit aquarium with tables (Tiger333 beer, fried rice and dumplings). Finally we forced ourselves to sleep.
Monday morning was quiet and comfortable, but as the light gathered, so did the hum of the hive, embodied by the put-put-putter of hundreds of low horsepower scooters. The scooter-to-car ratio lies somewhere around 30 to 1, with all manner of business conducted from the saddle (DHL, carpool, feather duster sales, block ice delivery, business suits headed to the office, sleeping, eating, frolicking). We used our short morning before our flight to visit the War Remnant Museum, which houses an array of U.S. hardware in a dusty courtyard, from jets to artillery pieces to a tracked flame thrower. Inside the open air building were a host of displays about the war itself and the surrounding political situation, both in Vietnam and around the world (all from a not-quite-familiar perspective). There were notably several American men in their 60s there who would have been in their 20s during the war and were likely making a difficult journey back to a place they had been a lifetime ago.
After a short flight to the central coast town of Da Nang, we were shuttled out to the small riverside town of Hoi An, passing along the way the 30 km stretch of coast known collectively as China Beach - a favorite R&R for American troops during the war. However, we never actually saw the beach, because of the non-stop progression of huge, exclusive resorts that are emerging from the sand, in various states of completion and preventing access to all but the cucumber eye mask crowd.
Hoi An's streets are often narrow and winding, littered with flowering trees and lit with overhead lanterns. Known for good food, the town is famous for fine clothes, and within hours I found myself being measured for a tailored suit in the loft of a 19th century warehouse-like building, while Cinda flipped through magazine and catalog cutouts she had brought along and discussed how to bring them to life with another tailor. With the jetlag finally catching up with us, we spiraled our way back through alleyways and over covered bridges until we were back at the hotel and among the friendly staff ("You don't have to take your shoes off at the door - you're number one!"
-Nate
We had been advised and warned about the hectic pace of Saigon's streets, but we arrived near midnight on a Sunday night, a time which acts as a beekeeper's smoke in calming the hive. Instead we rolled slowly through half-dark and nearly empty streets, the frequent portraits of Ho Chi Minh curiously mirrored by one of advertising's biggest dumb-luck successes in all history - Colonel Sanders and his mustache, goatee, and warm smile (the Colonel plays well in China, too, where he looks to me like Confucius' little brother).
It was after midnight in Saigon but 8 AM back home, so we were wide awake and ready to stroll. The warm night was enveloping ("like a blanket" said Cinda) as we walked through festive boulevards still vibrant with fresh flowers and paper lanterns from the Lunar New Year celebration last weekend. But restaurants were hard to come by, so we settled on Chinese food at a brightly lit aquarium with tables (Tiger333 beer, fried rice and dumplings). Finally we forced ourselves to sleep.
Monday morning was quiet and comfortable, but as the light gathered, so did the hum of the hive, embodied by the put-put-putter of hundreds of low horsepower scooters. The scooter-to-car ratio lies somewhere around 30 to 1, with all manner of business conducted from the saddle (DHL, carpool, feather duster sales, block ice delivery, business suits headed to the office, sleeping, eating, frolicking). We used our short morning before our flight to visit the War Remnant Museum, which houses an array of U.S. hardware in a dusty courtyard, from jets to artillery pieces to a tracked flame thrower. Inside the open air building were a host of displays about the war itself and the surrounding political situation, both in Vietnam and around the world (all from a not-quite-familiar perspective). There were notably several American men in their 60s there who would have been in their 20s during the war and were likely making a difficult journey back to a place they had been a lifetime ago.
After a short flight to the central coast town of Da Nang, we were shuttled out to the small riverside town of Hoi An, passing along the way the 30 km stretch of coast known collectively as China Beach - a favorite R&R for American troops during the war. However, we never actually saw the beach, because of the non-stop progression of huge, exclusive resorts that are emerging from the sand, in various states of completion and preventing access to all but the cucumber eye mask crowd.
Hoi An's streets are often narrow and winding, littered with flowering trees and lit with overhead lanterns. Known for good food, the town is famous for fine clothes, and within hours I found myself being measured for a tailored suit in the loft of a 19th century warehouse-like building, while Cinda flipped through magazine and catalog cutouts she had brought along and discussed how to bring them to life with another tailor. With the jetlag finally catching up with us, we spiraled our way back through alleyways and over covered bridges until we were back at the hotel and among the friendly staff ("You don't have to take your shoes off at the door - you're number one!"
-Nate
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Testing 1-2-3...
Cinda and I are getting ready to go to the airport. Next post will be from Vietnam!
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