I was filled with joy and confidence when I boarded my 8:30am boat, the most unlikely of events after having been certain I would not be able to get my ATM card back in time to leave Luang Probang.
I felt happy to be on this long slow boat that would take myself and 30 others to Pak Beng, a 9-hour day away. It was a gorgeous and sunny day, and I felt moved by the gloriousness of life, my opportunity for such amazing travel, as well as the guardian-angel-like nature of my recent encounters with the Lao Locals.
After the boat had been going a while, I decided to explore the extend of the vehicle. I walked to the back of the boat, and was about to walk by a Lao man seated to a big breakfast on the ground, when he motioned for me to join him. I sat down and shared his meal of sticky rice, sausage, and some fermented fish sauce-smelling vegetable dish (which, I might add, was quite tasty in all of its fermented funkyness), as he showed me how to roll the sticky rice into a ball and use it as a scooping implement for the food. We laughed and smiled over this shared meal and my clumsiness of trying to eat like a local as our only means of communication. Five or ten minutes into this experience, he surprised me quite a bit by trying to kiss me! I put my hands up and shook my head to indicate "no", and through some gesturing to clarify, he understood, and all was well, if a bit awkward. Then he told me he loved me. I thanked him. He told me again that he loved me, and made some sort of gesture that I should perhaps say it back. I smiled, thanked him again, and bowed to him with the Lao-way of prayer-hands to say 'Kawp-jai' (thank you) and made my way back to my seat, head-shaking with a smile.
The rest of the morning was spent enjoying the sweet views along the Mekong River, talking a fair deal to an Irishman named Phelim, and sitting outside on the front of the boat around dusk, chatting with some other passengers. and drinking some steaming hot peppermint tea. It was quite lovely. That evening around 6pm we arrived in Pak Beng, a sweet little villlage where I was greeted for the first time in my life by a man holding a sign with my name on it! Phelim and I headed up to the guesthouse, got some excellent dinner at an Indian restaurant after walking through the quiet town, and got a good nights sleep in preparation for the next day, which would be our second and final all-day boat ride, to Huay Xai.
Early the next morning I took a short walk through the village before breakfast, and then we were off on our boat once again. This time I wound up getting quite involved in an animated and all-day conversation with a young Englishman named Dan. We talked about everything under the sun, and music quickly came into the picture. He had with him a mini-guitar, and we spent all afternoon trading songs back and forth, which eventually led to playing with and for the locals at the front of the boat, as well as some guitar lessons for a young and enthusiastic Lao guy with the sweetest smile. By the end of the day, Dan and I were interspersed with a bunch of locals, laughing, sharing photos, trading cell phone numbers. This was especially special because the beginning of each day of boat-riding, locals rode up front separate from the foreigners who sat together in the back. With music and enthusiasm, we had bridged the gap. It was a rich and full day on the boat, and I was so happy that I had decided to take this relatively famous mode of travel heading west on the Mekong.
When we arrived in Huay Xai, Dan, Phelim and I made our way to a guesthouse together, along with a Dutch couple who was going to be on my 3-day jungle trek the next day. That evening we met up with a large group from the boat for dinner, and had some delicious traditional Lao food over some loud and boisterous conversation and laughs. It had been a great two days, and this was just the transportation to get to my next adventure! The next morning- leave for the jungle of Bokeo, Laos, for trekking, gibbon-spotting, and ziplining through trees to our treehouse accommodation!
Monday, May 30, 2011
Final Days in Luang Probang
After 3 packed and full days in Luang Probang, I needed a day off from activity, and needed to figure out how and when my next bout of travel would take place, which I spent the morning researching and arranging, and in the rainy afternoon wrote my most recent set of blogs. When I was done, I raced to my guesthouse in time to listen from my room the evening chants of the monks from 5:30-6pm over a cup of peppermint tea (which had become my daily routine), and had an excellent evening getting to know a handsome Dutchman over some grilled chicken and a whole grilled fish at the night market.
The next morning I got back on my bicycle to head to my second waterfall in Luang Probang- the Tat Sae Waterfall. This Waterfall was a good 10km closer than the Kuang Si which I rode to on the first day, but the terrain was much crazier, steeper, and challenging, so I spent yet another full day standing up on my pedals, climbing massive hills (on a town bicycle, no less!) and riding through many villages. At a certain point the road ended, a boatman was required to get the rest of the way to the falls for 20,000kip ($2.50US) It was a sweet experience, a long and slow motorboat that we cruised in for about 5-10 mins under the blazing sun. The waterfall itself was rather low, but for me these bike-riding days are all about the journey. I swam in the small pool that was there, and also fed a bunch of bananas to some elephants that were living in the area. After getting lost on the way back (but gloriously so, though tiring) I arrived back in town around 6 or 7pm and had a quiet night that evening, my usual tasty night market food, and went to bed early in anticipation of an all-day cooking class for the next day.
The cooking class was held at the Tamarind Restaurant, and it was great! The food was delicious, the people taking the class were interesting and fun, and our teacher was an excellent Lao Chef, and he taught us in a state-of-the-art outdoor kitchen under some palm-thatched roofs. We learned how to make sticky rice, a traditional Lao Eggplant dip, steamed fish wrapped in banana leaf with delicious spices, and bamboo stuffed with chicken. We also made a Lao stew, and turned the sticky rice into dessert with a coconut sauce and local fruits. Once we had cooked all of our new recipes, we sat down together at a long table and had a fantastic feast. It was a great day that stretched from 9am-3pm, and I made some Australian friends in the act, as well as a Chinese-Brazilian, and an American from Austin Texas.
I had connected in particular with an Australian guy and his mother who were traveling together through SE Asia, and I made plans with him to meet up with them a bit later in the evening. I was going to just head back to my room to shower and rest in the meantime, but I remembered that I had only 3,000kip (about 40 cents!) in my wallet, and that I should go to an ATM before meeting my new friends since we were going out to dinner, not to mention I was leaving the next morning on an early boat to make my way over two days to get to a 3-day jungle trek adventure I had signed up for.
I rode my bicycle down the road, and went to the first ATM I saw. I put the card in the machine, punched in my code, and then suddenly the screen went blank. Then it said 'out of order', and then the machine rebooted, and turned back on into its usual functioning mode, but, without ever having given me my card back. My jaw dropped and my eyes were wide. My card was gone! I searched the machine for a phone number or anything, but there was no information. I did my best to try not to panic, but it was 5pm on a Saturday evening, and I was pretty sure banks were closed until Monday, not to mention I didn't have the faintest idea who to contact.
I looked around me, and saw that the Luang Probang library was nextdoor. I figured at the very least, perhaps someone there would speak english, and maybe they could advise me on what to do- luckily, I was right! I found two Lao 20-somethings named Bee and Dao in there who were quite sympathetic, and told me that I probably wouldn't be able to get my card back until Monday. I looked quite stressed and asked if they thought there was any way to get someone to come, so, they left their posts at the library and hopped on their bicycles, and led me to the bank connected to the machine. They found the guy who lives and works at the bank (this is how things often are in Laos- a little room or cabinet with a person living inside, behind or next to the business itself) and told him my story, that I needed to get on a boat the next morning at 8am, and that my card was trapped in the machine.
He asked if I could wait until Monday- I said that I could, but it would mean possibly losing tickets, money, and a place in the trip I had signed up for, and asked if there was any way he could help me. He said maybe he could get it to me the next day around 9, 10 or 11 in the morning, and I said that if that was the only option then fine, but, I would still have to change everything. Quite unexpectedly, I started to cry in front of these 3 Lao strangers, blubbering somewhat like a small child or toddler, and could barely get words out to explain my situation, or give them my cell phone number that they had requested. I think the helplessness of my situation is what got to me, even though everything would really be fine even if I did have to wait until Monday.
They were all so sweet, putting their hands on my arm to comfort me, saying 'don't be sad! don't cry! it's okay!' and I found myself once again vulnerable and crying with perfect strangers who I could barely communicate with, and feeling completely helpless. It is a vulnerable feeling, indeed, to be in a foreign country without being able to speak the language, traveling alone, and suddenly have no access to cash.
The bank-employee (named Peng) told me he would do what he could, and would call me the next morning as soon as he knew what the situation was. I thanked them all profusely, and left feeling grateful and embarassed all at once, unable to stop my seemingly endless supply of tears. I was so touched by how much they had each helped me, and had gone out of their way for me.
I also realized that I needed to EAT FOOD which was a big reason I was so easily stressed and overwhelmed by this situation to such massive proportion, and, after sorting myself out a bit, met up with my Australian crew (Son, Mother, and Mother's Boyfriend). They were a great group to relax and enjoy with, and forget about worrying about my card. Great senses of humor, and fun and engaging conversation. Another great night at the night market- we stayed incredibly late until we were the last ones there, collecting friends from our cooking class and otherwise as they walked through, laughing and chatting into the wee hours. When I went to bed that night, I felt tired and happy, as well as feeling quite certain that I would not be leaving the next morning.
I turned my alarm off, and left it to fate- if Peng called me in time for me to get my ATM card, I would wake up to his call, meet him, and get on the boat. If not, I would sleep as late as I possibly could, and enjoy another day or two in Luang Probang! I let go completely of the outcome of the situation, and felt quite peaceful with whatever was to be.
I woke up to the sound of my cheerful cellphone ringing at 7:04am the next morning, and in my delirium of waking after perhaps 5 hours of sleep, I answered the phone and heard the words I was not expecting to hear from Peng- "I have the key to the ATM machine. Can you meet me there in 5 minutes?"
I threw my clothes on, and ran out the door. I hopped on my rented bicycle and raced down the street, and met Peng. He opened the machine, and got my card for me. I thanked him over and over. He went on to tell me that he had done it for me, that his boss had wanted to wash his hands of the situation and have me wait until Monday, since banks are usually only open from Mon-Friday, and that this was a very special exception that he made, because he wanted to help me, and that he had ridden his motorbike at 10pm the night before for half an hour to his bosses' ouse to get the key, and woke up early to meet me so I could make my boat. I was so amazed;I was so grateful. This was so kind and generous, it was hard to believe that anyone would go so far out of their way for a total stranger. I thinked thanked him over and over, and the more he explained his efforts, I decided I should give him some money for his trouble-he was grateful. I told him that I would remember his kindness, and that I greatly appreciated his efforts.
We parted ways after a few minutes as I still had a boat to catch! I zoomed down the street to my favorite grilled-chicken vendor lady, and got some food for the day, zipped back to my guesthouse where my bags were already packed from the night before, hailed a tuk-tuk, and said goodbye to the guys at the Symounkoun Guesthouse, who had become my home, and had taken to laughing at me on a daily basis as I would arrive soaked from the rain, covered in mud, or returning repeatedly after forgetting something.
I would miss this wonderful town, but, I was on to new places and more adventure!
The next morning I got back on my bicycle to head to my second waterfall in Luang Probang- the Tat Sae Waterfall. This Waterfall was a good 10km closer than the Kuang Si which I rode to on the first day, but the terrain was much crazier, steeper, and challenging, so I spent yet another full day standing up on my pedals, climbing massive hills (on a town bicycle, no less!) and riding through many villages. At a certain point the road ended, a boatman was required to get the rest of the way to the falls for 20,000kip ($2.50US) It was a sweet experience, a long and slow motorboat that we cruised in for about 5-10 mins under the blazing sun. The waterfall itself was rather low, but for me these bike-riding days are all about the journey. I swam in the small pool that was there, and also fed a bunch of bananas to some elephants that were living in the area. After getting lost on the way back (but gloriously so, though tiring) I arrived back in town around 6 or 7pm and had a quiet night that evening, my usual tasty night market food, and went to bed early in anticipation of an all-day cooking class for the next day.
The cooking class was held at the Tamarind Restaurant, and it was great! The food was delicious, the people taking the class were interesting and fun, and our teacher was an excellent Lao Chef, and he taught us in a state-of-the-art outdoor kitchen under some palm-thatched roofs. We learned how to make sticky rice, a traditional Lao Eggplant dip, steamed fish wrapped in banana leaf with delicious spices, and bamboo stuffed with chicken. We also made a Lao stew, and turned the sticky rice into dessert with a coconut sauce and local fruits. Once we had cooked all of our new recipes, we sat down together at a long table and had a fantastic feast. It was a great day that stretched from 9am-3pm, and I made some Australian friends in the act, as well as a Chinese-Brazilian, and an American from Austin Texas.
I had connected in particular with an Australian guy and his mother who were traveling together through SE Asia, and I made plans with him to meet up with them a bit later in the evening. I was going to just head back to my room to shower and rest in the meantime, but I remembered that I had only 3,000kip (about 40 cents!) in my wallet, and that I should go to an ATM before meeting my new friends since we were going out to dinner, not to mention I was leaving the next morning on an early boat to make my way over two days to get to a 3-day jungle trek adventure I had signed up for.
I rode my bicycle down the road, and went to the first ATM I saw. I put the card in the machine, punched in my code, and then suddenly the screen went blank. Then it said 'out of order', and then the machine rebooted, and turned back on into its usual functioning mode, but, without ever having given me my card back. My jaw dropped and my eyes were wide. My card was gone! I searched the machine for a phone number or anything, but there was no information. I did my best to try not to panic, but it was 5pm on a Saturday evening, and I was pretty sure banks were closed until Monday, not to mention I didn't have the faintest idea who to contact.
I looked around me, and saw that the Luang Probang library was nextdoor. I figured at the very least, perhaps someone there would speak english, and maybe they could advise me on what to do- luckily, I was right! I found two Lao 20-somethings named Bee and Dao in there who were quite sympathetic, and told me that I probably wouldn't be able to get my card back until Monday. I looked quite stressed and asked if they thought there was any way to get someone to come, so, they left their posts at the library and hopped on their bicycles, and led me to the bank connected to the machine. They found the guy who lives and works at the bank (this is how things often are in Laos- a little room or cabinet with a person living inside, behind or next to the business itself) and told him my story, that I needed to get on a boat the next morning at 8am, and that my card was trapped in the machine.
He asked if I could wait until Monday- I said that I could, but it would mean possibly losing tickets, money, and a place in the trip I had signed up for, and asked if there was any way he could help me. He said maybe he could get it to me the next day around 9, 10 or 11 in the morning, and I said that if that was the only option then fine, but, I would still have to change everything. Quite unexpectedly, I started to cry in front of these 3 Lao strangers, blubbering somewhat like a small child or toddler, and could barely get words out to explain my situation, or give them my cell phone number that they had requested. I think the helplessness of my situation is what got to me, even though everything would really be fine even if I did have to wait until Monday.
They were all so sweet, putting their hands on my arm to comfort me, saying 'don't be sad! don't cry! it's okay!' and I found myself once again vulnerable and crying with perfect strangers who I could barely communicate with, and feeling completely helpless. It is a vulnerable feeling, indeed, to be in a foreign country without being able to speak the language, traveling alone, and suddenly have no access to cash.
The bank-employee (named Peng) told me he would do what he could, and would call me the next morning as soon as he knew what the situation was. I thanked them all profusely, and left feeling grateful and embarassed all at once, unable to stop my seemingly endless supply of tears. I was so touched by how much they had each helped me, and had gone out of their way for me.
I also realized that I needed to EAT FOOD which was a big reason I was so easily stressed and overwhelmed by this situation to such massive proportion, and, after sorting myself out a bit, met up with my Australian crew (Son, Mother, and Mother's Boyfriend). They were a great group to relax and enjoy with, and forget about worrying about my card. Great senses of humor, and fun and engaging conversation. Another great night at the night market- we stayed incredibly late until we were the last ones there, collecting friends from our cooking class and otherwise as they walked through, laughing and chatting into the wee hours. When I went to bed that night, I felt tired and happy, as well as feeling quite certain that I would not be leaving the next morning.
I turned my alarm off, and left it to fate- if Peng called me in time for me to get my ATM card, I would wake up to his call, meet him, and get on the boat. If not, I would sleep as late as I possibly could, and enjoy another day or two in Luang Probang! I let go completely of the outcome of the situation, and felt quite peaceful with whatever was to be.
I woke up to the sound of my cheerful cellphone ringing at 7:04am the next morning, and in my delirium of waking after perhaps 5 hours of sleep, I answered the phone and heard the words I was not expecting to hear from Peng- "I have the key to the ATM machine. Can you meet me there in 5 minutes?"
I threw my clothes on, and ran out the door. I hopped on my rented bicycle and raced down the street, and met Peng. He opened the machine, and got my card for me. I thanked him over and over. He went on to tell me that he had done it for me, that his boss had wanted to wash his hands of the situation and have me wait until Monday, since banks are usually only open from Mon-Friday, and that this was a very special exception that he made, because he wanted to help me, and that he had ridden his motorbike at 10pm the night before for half an hour to his bosses' ouse to get the key, and woke up early to meet me so I could make my boat. I was so amazed;I was so grateful. This was so kind and generous, it was hard to believe that anyone would go so far out of their way for a total stranger. I thinked thanked him over and over, and the more he explained his efforts, I decided I should give him some money for his trouble-he was grateful. I told him that I would remember his kindness, and that I greatly appreciated his efforts.
We parted ways after a few minutes as I still had a boat to catch! I zoomed down the street to my favorite grilled-chicken vendor lady, and got some food for the day, zipped back to my guesthouse where my bags were already packed from the night before, hailed a tuk-tuk, and said goodbye to the guys at the Symounkoun Guesthouse, who had become my home, and had taken to laughing at me on a daily basis as I would arrive soaked from the rain, covered in mud, or returning repeatedly after forgetting something.
I would miss this wonderful town, but, I was on to new places and more adventure!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Luang Probang: Teaching and Chumpet
On the morning of my 3rd day in Luang Probang, Andy and I went to Big Brother Mouse for the second morning in a row and participated as volunteer teachers at another 2-hour English class that takes place at this excellent volunteer project. With the satisfaction of teaching and connecting with locals under our belt, we headed off to our other plan for the day which was to take a Ferry Boat across the Mekong River, to Chumpet Village, where there are many more temples and roads to explore in local villages.
We had an interesting experience negotiating our boat fare while drifting across the river. The locals all pretended to pay 20,000Kip so that we a tourists would be convinced that this was the right price (the ticket seller then gives the money back to the locals after we would supposedly pay for our raised tourist-fee). Luckily, Andy has been traveling in SE Asia for over a year, and was onto this scam, and insisted on the 5,000 that he knew the ferry boat price to be. The ticket-taker sheepishly took the money from us, and gave back the change of 15,000 to the other local ticket payers who had participated in tricking us.
Events like this have become commonplace and even amusing to me, though I do not enjoy being tricked per se. Luckily, the amounts of money we are talking about are small, and I tend to find out the correct price before I can be vulnerable to such schemes.
Upon arriving to Chumpet a few minutes later, we rode our bicycles leisurely through the town after our slow drift across the river. We stopped every few minutes at a local food stall for Pho, and some leaf-wrapped sweet rice concoction, as well as a frozen bubble-tea (Taro, of course!) and communicated with the locals in whatever way possible to find a smile and a connection. The guy next to me shared his Pho with me when there turned out to be no more available, it was quite sweet, and the woman running the shop shared hers with Andy.
For the rest of the afternoon, we drove on rocky and dirt roads at a slow pace, climbing up long staircases to different temples, walked through forest to a local monastery, and then tried to find a local sugar-cane farm that Andy was intent on finding for some late-afternoon sweetness.
We didn't find the sugarcane farm, but we did find some excellent kids on beautiful country roads. When we stopped a few times to ask directions, we wound up accumulating a small crowd of children that were following us, and saying the word 'Pen' to me repeatedly, which, I did not know what this Lao word meant, so I just shook my head at them, and wondered what they were asking for. Pretty soon thereafter, I patted the back of my bicycle where there is a section to strap a bag onto, or to seat a person, and offered rides on the back of my bicycle. A brother and sister pair jumped onto the back of my bicycle a number of times, and we all laughed as I pulled this extra weight up and down rocky and bumpy dirt roads. It was so much fun!
A bit later, when I asked Andy what 'pen' meant, he said 'It means pen. They are asking for pens. They need pens here, they don't have them.' I laughed at myself for the misunderstanding, having expected that they were only speaking to me in Lao, and I looked to the kids and asked them "Oh! You want PENS???' and they nodded their heads with smiles and excitement. Who am I to turn down children asking for pens? So with two kiddos on the back of my bike, and nine more running and following behind, we went down the hill to the local shop where they sold all sorts of goodies, including pens.
I counted the eleven kids following me into the store, bought eleven pens, and handed them out to the waiting and eager hands extended. A father with his two children sitting at the store picked up his kids and held them out towards me, asking silently with a smile for pens for his little ones as well, and, I bought two more pens and gave them to them. The store owner was smiling, her daughter was smiling, the kids were smiling, Andy and I were smiling. It was a very sweet moment, and I felt quite happy, as well as melancholy at the fact that a pen, something so small and inexpensive to me, was a glorious gift and sought after item by these children in this village. I know that this experience will continue to effect me and develop my growth and intentions along the road of life.
We rode our bicycles back to the dock, and made our way back on the evening ferry (a small drifting raft with an engine, really, but strong enough to carry a truck, which it did) driven by an 11-year old boy. It was a sweet day, and a sweet ride back across the Mekong. I parted ways with Andy, went back 'home' to take a shower, and went to the night market for my ritual street food. I shared a table with a Japanese man who I had met the night before, and we ate our whole-fish dinner with chopsticks on its plate of a banana leaf. I came back to my guesthouse happy and looking forward to the next day, quite possibly my last in Luang Probang.
We had an interesting experience negotiating our boat fare while drifting across the river. The locals all pretended to pay 20,000Kip so that we a tourists would be convinced that this was the right price (the ticket seller then gives the money back to the locals after we would supposedly pay for our raised tourist-fee). Luckily, Andy has been traveling in SE Asia for over a year, and was onto this scam, and insisted on the 5,000 that he knew the ferry boat price to be. The ticket-taker sheepishly took the money from us, and gave back the change of 15,000 to the other local ticket payers who had participated in tricking us.
Events like this have become commonplace and even amusing to me, though I do not enjoy being tricked per se. Luckily, the amounts of money we are talking about are small, and I tend to find out the correct price before I can be vulnerable to such schemes.
Upon arriving to Chumpet a few minutes later, we rode our bicycles leisurely through the town after our slow drift across the river. We stopped every few minutes at a local food stall for Pho, and some leaf-wrapped sweet rice concoction, as well as a frozen bubble-tea (Taro, of course!) and communicated with the locals in whatever way possible to find a smile and a connection. The guy next to me shared his Pho with me when there turned out to be no more available, it was quite sweet, and the woman running the shop shared hers with Andy.
For the rest of the afternoon, we drove on rocky and dirt roads at a slow pace, climbing up long staircases to different temples, walked through forest to a local monastery, and then tried to find a local sugar-cane farm that Andy was intent on finding for some late-afternoon sweetness.
We didn't find the sugarcane farm, but we did find some excellent kids on beautiful country roads. When we stopped a few times to ask directions, we wound up accumulating a small crowd of children that were following us, and saying the word 'Pen' to me repeatedly, which, I did not know what this Lao word meant, so I just shook my head at them, and wondered what they were asking for. Pretty soon thereafter, I patted the back of my bicycle where there is a section to strap a bag onto, or to seat a person, and offered rides on the back of my bicycle. A brother and sister pair jumped onto the back of my bicycle a number of times, and we all laughed as I pulled this extra weight up and down rocky and bumpy dirt roads. It was so much fun!
A bit later, when I asked Andy what 'pen' meant, he said 'It means pen. They are asking for pens. They need pens here, they don't have them.' I laughed at myself for the misunderstanding, having expected that they were only speaking to me in Lao, and I looked to the kids and asked them "Oh! You want PENS???' and they nodded their heads with smiles and excitement. Who am I to turn down children asking for pens? So with two kiddos on the back of my bike, and nine more running and following behind, we went down the hill to the local shop where they sold all sorts of goodies, including pens.
I counted the eleven kids following me into the store, bought eleven pens, and handed them out to the waiting and eager hands extended. A father with his two children sitting at the store picked up his kids and held them out towards me, asking silently with a smile for pens for his little ones as well, and, I bought two more pens and gave them to them. The store owner was smiling, her daughter was smiling, the kids were smiling, Andy and I were smiling. It was a very sweet moment, and I felt quite happy, as well as melancholy at the fact that a pen, something so small and inexpensive to me, was a glorious gift and sought after item by these children in this village. I know that this experience will continue to effect me and develop my growth and intentions along the road of life.
We rode our bicycles back to the dock, and made our way back on the evening ferry (a small drifting raft with an engine, really, but strong enough to carry a truck, which it did) driven by an 11-year old boy. It was a sweet day, and a sweet ride back across the Mekong. I parted ways with Andy, went back 'home' to take a shower, and went to the night market for my ritual street food. I shared a table with a Japanese man who I had met the night before, and we ate our whole-fish dinner with chopsticks on its plate of a banana leaf. I came back to my guesthouse happy and looking forward to the next day, quite possibly my last in Luang Probang.
I love Luang Probang!
Wow, do I ever love Luang Probang!
The scam at the morning alms procession did not deter me. I love it all. This city has so much beauty, seemingly endless Wats (temples) to visit, waterfalls, views, boat rides to take down the Mekong, good food, bicycles, motorbikes- and it is easy to navigate.
When I awoke from my late-morning nap at noon on the first day after waking up at 5:30am for the daily morning alms procession of the monks, I felt refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready to explore. I immediately knew with the heat and the bright sunshine of the day that I wanted to ride my newly-rented bicycle to the Kuang Si Waterfalls, 30km away from the city center. Everyone I spoke with thought I was crazy and suggested that I take a tuk-tuk like everyone else, or, a boat down the Mekong, but, after days of bus travel, lack of sleep and disorientation in transitioning from one country to another, I knew that it was time to get some long overdue exercise. Plus, this is my favorite way to explore new places. Hooray for bicycles!
I got on the bike and started riding (and by the way, this is the best bicycle I have rented in the two plus months I have spent in SouthEast Asia- both brakes work, the bell works, the locks work- the pedals are not off center etc. . .) The next 3 hours were pure joy, even in the heat of the blaring sun, and during the last hour, walking my bicycle up the long and steep hill in the pouring rain of the afternoon. I was giddy with the endorphins and adrenaline moving through my system, as well as the gorgeous views of the country villages that I was passing through. I waved to the locals and exchanged calls of 'Sa-bai-dee'! the Laos word for 'Hello', and questioned my sanity at different times as I stood up on the pedals of my 1-speed town bicycle that I was using to climb massive hills in 95 degree weather, as well as the aforementioned pouring rain later in the afternoon.
But, I finally made it at 4pm, and and had myself a private swim in the Kuang Si waterfalls, since everyone else had already gone home due to the rain and massive drop in temperature. I was happy and satisfied, and ate the grilled chicken I had brought with me from town. Swimming in the cold water felt great on my cycling-tired legs. When I left the waterfall a bit later, while snacking on some local pork-skewers, I let myself be talked into taking a Tuk-tuk back to town, as it was already 5pm, and the ride back was likely to be challenging, long, and at least two hours. I am glad that I did this, as I was indeed tired, and I also had the good fortune to meet two American girls from Washington state, who I then gabbed meaningfully with for the rest of the 45-minute ride, and made plans to meet for dinner a while later.
That night we met and went to the night market for some most excellent street-food (where I have gone for dinner all four nights in a row that I have been here) and bumped into my Australian friend from the bus, as well as Andy, an American who I had met for the first time in Ho Chi Minh City five weeks previous, who turned out to be my childhood-dentists' nephew, and grew up in the same hometown as me, but we had not met until Vietnam, or knew of each other's existence. We had not communicated since our brief meeting in Vietnam in 5 weeks, so this coincidental meeting in Luang Probang was quite amazing!
Anyhow, dinner was fun and playful with the random group of us that night, and I went to bed happy again, excited for the next day, when I planned to go to 'Big Brother Mouse' in the morning, a local volunteer organization where English-speakers can participate in English lessons for the locals who show up. It is also possible to purchase books that come in both Laos and English to give to local children and adults. A really cool organization.
Andy and I both went the next morning to teach, and it was such a great experience. I worked with a few different Laos guys for two hours, and really enjoyed the experience of helping them speak English. This is great for a number of reasons, but two main ones are: I am going to start teaching 5th grade in the fall for the first time, so, it is good to know that I like it and am good at it! and also, this was a really special and unique way to relate to the local people, in a way that I have not yet experienced along my travels thus far. Making connections is very important to me, and I felt quite full during and after this experience. It was so cool to help someone with something that was quite challenging to them, that for me is so natural and something that I take for granted. Quite a humbling honor of an experience.
I went from there to the local Red Cross, and donated blood, as is suggested in the Lonely Planet guide next to Big Brother Mouse, as options for Goodwill while traveling. This was also a really cool experience, as I had never given blood before, and now I was vulnerable in the hands of locals, which also changed the nature of our relationship from the usual 'tourist-seller' dynamic that is so prevalent everywhere in Vietnam and Laos in my experience so far. I wound up staying and talking to a few of the guys working there for quite a while, and once again, felt that I had made a special connection.
I met back up with Andy, and double-riding on my bicycle, we went across the Nam Kham River (flows off the Mekong) to a really unique and cool restaurant called Dyen Sabai. The seating is on recliner cushions and pillows in rustic open-sided but porched pavilions that climb the slope across the Nam Kham river. I was ready to relax and eat lots of food after my recent donation of liquid life-force, and enjoyed many local and traditional dishes, listening to the sounds of drums from across the river as I remembered that today was the day of Buddha's birth!
When we crossed back over the river, Andy and I parted ways, and as I rode my bike somewhat aimlessly, I suddenly came upon the long and winding staircase up to Phu Si Mountain, and decided to climb to the top to That Chomsi Stupa, as well as a massive imprint of Buddha's footprint. There are also many golden Buddha statues up here, temples, and amazing views of Luang Probang and surrounding. It was absolutely gorgeous, and I felt an incredible sense of peace, stillness, and wonder as I climbed and explored for the next hour or two.
When I came back down, I went to my guest house, intent on a cup of peppermint tea and stillness to listen to the chanting of the monks to honor the Buddha. I had a sweet half an hour or so in my slowly darkening room, and shortly thereafter made my way to the night market, for the best chicken skewers that I knew were there waiting for me. I shared a table with a number of travelers who came and went at this communal seating setting, and it was a fantastic evening and a great meal, after another full and enriching day in Luang Probang.
The scam at the morning alms procession did not deter me. I love it all. This city has so much beauty, seemingly endless Wats (temples) to visit, waterfalls, views, boat rides to take down the Mekong, good food, bicycles, motorbikes- and it is easy to navigate.
When I awoke from my late-morning nap at noon on the first day after waking up at 5:30am for the daily morning alms procession of the monks, I felt refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready to explore. I immediately knew with the heat and the bright sunshine of the day that I wanted to ride my newly-rented bicycle to the Kuang Si Waterfalls, 30km away from the city center. Everyone I spoke with thought I was crazy and suggested that I take a tuk-tuk like everyone else, or, a boat down the Mekong, but, after days of bus travel, lack of sleep and disorientation in transitioning from one country to another, I knew that it was time to get some long overdue exercise. Plus, this is my favorite way to explore new places. Hooray for bicycles!
I got on the bike and started riding (and by the way, this is the best bicycle I have rented in the two plus months I have spent in SouthEast Asia- both brakes work, the bell works, the locks work- the pedals are not off center etc. . .) The next 3 hours were pure joy, even in the heat of the blaring sun, and during the last hour, walking my bicycle up the long and steep hill in the pouring rain of the afternoon. I was giddy with the endorphins and adrenaline moving through my system, as well as the gorgeous views of the country villages that I was passing through. I waved to the locals and exchanged calls of 'Sa-bai-dee'! the Laos word for 'Hello', and questioned my sanity at different times as I stood up on the pedals of my 1-speed town bicycle that I was using to climb massive hills in 95 degree weather, as well as the aforementioned pouring rain later in the afternoon.
But, I finally made it at 4pm, and and had myself a private swim in the Kuang Si waterfalls, since everyone else had already gone home due to the rain and massive drop in temperature. I was happy and satisfied, and ate the grilled chicken I had brought with me from town. Swimming in the cold water felt great on my cycling-tired legs. When I left the waterfall a bit later, while snacking on some local pork-skewers, I let myself be talked into taking a Tuk-tuk back to town, as it was already 5pm, and the ride back was likely to be challenging, long, and at least two hours. I am glad that I did this, as I was indeed tired, and I also had the good fortune to meet two American girls from Washington state, who I then gabbed meaningfully with for the rest of the 45-minute ride, and made plans to meet for dinner a while later.
That night we met and went to the night market for some most excellent street-food (where I have gone for dinner all four nights in a row that I have been here) and bumped into my Australian friend from the bus, as well as Andy, an American who I had met for the first time in Ho Chi Minh City five weeks previous, who turned out to be my childhood-dentists' nephew, and grew up in the same hometown as me, but we had not met until Vietnam, or knew of each other's existence. We had not communicated since our brief meeting in Vietnam in 5 weeks, so this coincidental meeting in Luang Probang was quite amazing!
Anyhow, dinner was fun and playful with the random group of us that night, and I went to bed happy again, excited for the next day, when I planned to go to 'Big Brother Mouse' in the morning, a local volunteer organization where English-speakers can participate in English lessons for the locals who show up. It is also possible to purchase books that come in both Laos and English to give to local children and adults. A really cool organization.
Andy and I both went the next morning to teach, and it was such a great experience. I worked with a few different Laos guys for two hours, and really enjoyed the experience of helping them speak English. This is great for a number of reasons, but two main ones are: I am going to start teaching 5th grade in the fall for the first time, so, it is good to know that I like it and am good at it! and also, this was a really special and unique way to relate to the local people, in a way that I have not yet experienced along my travels thus far. Making connections is very important to me, and I felt quite full during and after this experience. It was so cool to help someone with something that was quite challenging to them, that for me is so natural and something that I take for granted. Quite a humbling honor of an experience.
I went from there to the local Red Cross, and donated blood, as is suggested in the Lonely Planet guide next to Big Brother Mouse, as options for Goodwill while traveling. This was also a really cool experience, as I had never given blood before, and now I was vulnerable in the hands of locals, which also changed the nature of our relationship from the usual 'tourist-seller' dynamic that is so prevalent everywhere in Vietnam and Laos in my experience so far. I wound up staying and talking to a few of the guys working there for quite a while, and once again, felt that I had made a special connection.
I met back up with Andy, and double-riding on my bicycle, we went across the Nam Kham River (flows off the Mekong) to a really unique and cool restaurant called Dyen Sabai. The seating is on recliner cushions and pillows in rustic open-sided but porched pavilions that climb the slope across the Nam Kham river. I was ready to relax and eat lots of food after my recent donation of liquid life-force, and enjoyed many local and traditional dishes, listening to the sounds of drums from across the river as I remembered that today was the day of Buddha's birth!
When we crossed back over the river, Andy and I parted ways, and as I rode my bike somewhat aimlessly, I suddenly came upon the long and winding staircase up to Phu Si Mountain, and decided to climb to the top to That Chomsi Stupa, as well as a massive imprint of Buddha's footprint. There are also many golden Buddha statues up here, temples, and amazing views of Luang Probang and surrounding. It was absolutely gorgeous, and I felt an incredible sense of peace, stillness, and wonder as I climbed and explored for the next hour or two.
When I came back down, I went to my guest house, intent on a cup of peppermint tea and stillness to listen to the chanting of the monks to honor the Buddha. I had a sweet half an hour or so in my slowly darkening room, and shortly thereafter made my way to the night market, for the best chicken skewers that I knew were there waiting for me. I shared a table with a number of travelers who came and went at this communal seating setting, and it was a fantastic evening and a great meal, after another full and enriching day in Luang Probang.
Luang Probang: Monks and Morning Alms
The 10-hour bus ride to Luang Probang from Laos was relatively uneventful. Uncomfortable and long, but this was to be expected.
I joined a retired French couple at our food-stop for lunch, (which was included in our 'VIP-bus-ticket' price- didn't even know we were 'VIP' as this ticket price was our only option as tourists) where I spoke a bit in English with the sweet wife, and spoke through her interpretation to her smiling and mischievous husband as he asked me one-wordedly about our country: "Obama...?" with raised eyebrows and a smile.... "MacDonalds...?" another wicked glance looking up at me from from his meal across the table. I slapped my forehead, shook my head, laughed, and did my best to explain that there are all sorts of different people and values in America, and that I am not always on board with what is portrayed of our countries by the news. We all laughed together and I enjoyed their company very much.
After lunch and on the bus again, I met a younger couple, an Australian guy and his Croatian wife. They were great and fun to talk to, and I wound up bumping into them various times in Luang Probang over the next few days, and finally exchanged contact information with them before they left for their next destination days later.
We arrived into Luang Probang just as the sun was setting, and I knew immediately from the peaceful quiet and sounds of insects, frog, and geckos, and from the sweet scent of the air that I loved this city. We were all dropped off at our various hotels, mine the Symoungkhoun Guest House, run by a bunch of young Laos guys who seemed curious and amused by my solo-traveling-female status.
I chose this guesthouse because it is described in my Lonely Planet guidebook as being "simple but clean, and about the cheapest you will find with a direct view of the monks' dawn alms procession", which takes place each morning starting at 5:30am until about 6:30am. This was a major selling point for me, and I got myself the best room which does indeed directly overlook this beautiful morning ritual. I decided that I was going to wake up the next morning for it, and observe, and take photos.
While talking to one of the guesthouse guys, I was trying to ask what the procession would be like and if the monks would be chanting or singing or what. He wasn't exactly sure what I was saying but seemed to have an idea and told me that they will be playing drums at '4 o clock'. I asked him "Four o clock in the morning, or in the evening? Tonight, or tomorrow morning?' and he said 'Tonight. Yes, tonight." I laughed and said "Oh good! I like that! Four in the evening is just fine with me! As long as it isn't four in the morning!"
I think you can guess where this is going. I woke up at 4am (sleeping with my windows open for fresh air and hoping to be woken for the alms procession without the help of my alarm) to the loud repetitive booming of the drum from the temple across the street from me, which might as well have been right in my room. I was under the haze of deep sleep, and while I was incredibly tired, I was also touched by this sacred sound entering my room. Thankfully I went back to sleep pretty quickly, and didn't wake up again until 5:45 when I opened my eyes and looked out the window, and saw a long line of monks dressed in bright orange roads filing down the street along the sidewalk where just as many people were kneeling on mats offering rice to the extended bowls from the monks hands.
I jumped out of bed, and made my way out to the street. The day before I had decided that while it was an option to participate in the offering of rice, that for my first morning I was just going to observe. This plan was immediately derailed by the fact that I had been awake less than five minutes, and that there are many locals who wish to profit from the inexperience of tourists.
A Lao woman came running out to me, offering me a large basket of rice, and though a voice inside my head said "No, don't take it, wait till later or tomorrow, you don't even know if this is the right kind of rice that you are supposed to give", I took it anyway, and rushed with her over to her mat, and knelt, and began quickly preparing the fingerfuls of rice paired with rice crackers wrapped in plastic, and commenced with placing the rice as quickly as I could to keep up with the pace of the passing monks, with my eyes lowered as dictated by local practice.
When the line had passed, and my basket was empty, one of the local women led me to a nearby statue, and showed me how to make an offering to it. When I was done, I asked her 'Tao dai?" ("How much?") and she said '200,000 Kip', which, is more than $20USD!!!! No matter where you are from, what the purpose of the rice is, rice should NEVER EVER cost so much. At most, it should be the equivalent of $1 and even that would be expensive. I became indignant with a look of shock on my face, saying 'No! NO!' to her and insisting that it was way too much and such, offering her 20,000 ($3) and then 40,000 ($5), still knowing that this was much more than I should pay, but also feeling sheepish at not having asked about the price before hand, and still feeling some sort of obligation to pay a higher price than was deserved.
I left the woman 60,000Kip poorer with my head hanging and my tail between my legs so to speak, and felt disenchanted with my first experience of this daily sacred ritual that I was so excited to experience. I shook it off, and decided I wasn't going to let it get to me, and to just enjoy whatever I could of this experience, and proceeded to take many photos, and watch this procession in all of its ritual beauty.
Throughout the rest of the morning I attempted to sightsee and wander around locally, but by 10am I realized I was just so devastatingly tired, and was getting nowhere and enjoying nothing until I could go back to sleep. I went back to my hotel, resigned to sleep and do some exploring when I had gotten enough rest.
I joined a retired French couple at our food-stop for lunch, (which was included in our 'VIP-bus-ticket' price- didn't even know we were 'VIP' as this ticket price was our only option as tourists) where I spoke a bit in English with the sweet wife, and spoke through her interpretation to her smiling and mischievous husband as he asked me one-wordedly about our country: "Obama...?" with raised eyebrows and a smile.... "MacDonalds...?" another wicked glance looking up at me from from his meal across the table. I slapped my forehead, shook my head, laughed, and did my best to explain that there are all sorts of different people and values in America, and that I am not always on board with what is portrayed of our countries by the news. We all laughed together and I enjoyed their company very much.
After lunch and on the bus again, I met a younger couple, an Australian guy and his Croatian wife. They were great and fun to talk to, and I wound up bumping into them various times in Luang Probang over the next few days, and finally exchanged contact information with them before they left for their next destination days later.
We arrived into Luang Probang just as the sun was setting, and I knew immediately from the peaceful quiet and sounds of insects, frog, and geckos, and from the sweet scent of the air that I loved this city. We were all dropped off at our various hotels, mine the Symoungkhoun Guest House, run by a bunch of young Laos guys who seemed curious and amused by my solo-traveling-female status.
I chose this guesthouse because it is described in my Lonely Planet guidebook as being "simple but clean, and about the cheapest you will find with a direct view of the monks' dawn alms procession", which takes place each morning starting at 5:30am until about 6:30am. This was a major selling point for me, and I got myself the best room which does indeed directly overlook this beautiful morning ritual. I decided that I was going to wake up the next morning for it, and observe, and take photos.
While talking to one of the guesthouse guys, I was trying to ask what the procession would be like and if the monks would be chanting or singing or what. He wasn't exactly sure what I was saying but seemed to have an idea and told me that they will be playing drums at '4 o clock'. I asked him "Four o clock in the morning, or in the evening? Tonight, or tomorrow morning?' and he said 'Tonight. Yes, tonight." I laughed and said "Oh good! I like that! Four in the evening is just fine with me! As long as it isn't four in the morning!"
I think you can guess where this is going. I woke up at 4am (sleeping with my windows open for fresh air and hoping to be woken for the alms procession without the help of my alarm) to the loud repetitive booming of the drum from the temple across the street from me, which might as well have been right in my room. I was under the haze of deep sleep, and while I was incredibly tired, I was also touched by this sacred sound entering my room. Thankfully I went back to sleep pretty quickly, and didn't wake up again until 5:45 when I opened my eyes and looked out the window, and saw a long line of monks dressed in bright orange roads filing down the street along the sidewalk where just as many people were kneeling on mats offering rice to the extended bowls from the monks hands.
I jumped out of bed, and made my way out to the street. The day before I had decided that while it was an option to participate in the offering of rice, that for my first morning I was just going to observe. This plan was immediately derailed by the fact that I had been awake less than five minutes, and that there are many locals who wish to profit from the inexperience of tourists.
A Lao woman came running out to me, offering me a large basket of rice, and though a voice inside my head said "No, don't take it, wait till later or tomorrow, you don't even know if this is the right kind of rice that you are supposed to give", I took it anyway, and rushed with her over to her mat, and knelt, and began quickly preparing the fingerfuls of rice paired with rice crackers wrapped in plastic, and commenced with placing the rice as quickly as I could to keep up with the pace of the passing monks, with my eyes lowered as dictated by local practice.
When the line had passed, and my basket was empty, one of the local women led me to a nearby statue, and showed me how to make an offering to it. When I was done, I asked her 'Tao dai?" ("How much?") and she said '200,000 Kip', which, is more than $20USD!!!! No matter where you are from, what the purpose of the rice is, rice should NEVER EVER cost so much. At most, it should be the equivalent of $1 and even that would be expensive. I became indignant with a look of shock on my face, saying 'No! NO!' to her and insisting that it was way too much and such, offering her 20,000 ($3) and then 40,000 ($5), still knowing that this was much more than I should pay, but also feeling sheepish at not having asked about the price before hand, and still feeling some sort of obligation to pay a higher price than was deserved.
I left the woman 60,000Kip poorer with my head hanging and my tail between my legs so to speak, and felt disenchanted with my first experience of this daily sacred ritual that I was so excited to experience. I shook it off, and decided I wasn't going to let it get to me, and to just enjoy whatever I could of this experience, and proceeded to take many photos, and watch this procession in all of its ritual beauty.
Throughout the rest of the morning I attempted to sightsee and wander around locally, but by 10am I realized I was just so devastatingly tired, and was getting nowhere and enjoying nothing until I could go back to sleep. I went back to my hotel, resigned to sleep and do some exploring when I had gotten enough rest.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Breaking into a Million Pieces: Groundlessness
Last night I dreamt that the world was literally crumbling beneath my feet.
An earthquake or some dreamlike version of the ground-explosions from the movie 'Tremors' from 1990 (starring Kevin Bacon, remember??) was taking place. The ground was exploding up from some force from below, raking its way up from underneath the earth, flinging rocks and bricks like missiles into the air, forming big hill-bursts that would then collapse and fall far far below.
I saw these explosions coming from far away, perhaps first in the form of a massive tsunami-like wave, which then turned into these rock-hill explosions (as happens in dreams) moving incredibly fast towards us. I was standing on a hilltop, and from my vantage point I began shouting to my friends "RUN!!! RUN!!! Get as low as you can!!!" The logic here was that the farther you had to fall, the greater likelihood of being crushed and dying. If we could stay low and maybe stay on one slab of cement, perhaps we could maintain footing (dream-logic only).
I ran and ran downhill but I felt myself lose footing and began to fall, trying to do whatever I could to stay upright. Despite my efforts, I fell to the ground out of control, but landed painlessly (as it was a dream) to what was understood by my subconscious to be my demise. I woke with my heart pounding in my dorm-room bed at the Mixay Guesthouse in Vientiane, Laos in the middle of the night, happy to still be alive, but filled with anxiety.
I share this dream with you because to me, it is highly symbolic of what this experience of travel on the other side of the world has been like for me, interwoven of course, with so many wonderful and amazing and beautiful sights, experiences, and people throughout. There has also, however, been an element of fear of the unknown, anxiety about how and where to go, as well as loneliness and homesickness. Sometimes when I think about where I am and how far away from home I am and the country that is familiar and safe to me, it scares me quite a bit. Not speaking the language, not always feeling welcome, not being understood, and not knowing where I am going or how to get where I want to go, getting lost, and what once felt like 'simple things' health-wise are difficult to find. While I have traveled with friends part of the time, and always meet new great people along the way, big picture- I am traveling alone, which is a central reason for what is bringing these feelings about. Everything is completely up to me, and it is always unknown and uncertain who I will meet next and when.
It is not just these technical questions- it also has brought about the good 'ol existential questions of 'Who am I? Where am I? Where do I belong in this world? What is my goal/intention here and anywhere and in life? What are my beliefs?' which, are questions I was wrestling with before my trip, but, being so far from home and anything familiar, as well as a new job as an elementary school teacher (5th grade) waiting for me upon my return, I still just don't know what I am doing, and feel like I am stumbling blindly through life at least half of the time. This might sound terrible to some, but to be perfectly honest, on my spiritual path as a meditator and Buddhist, I know that it is a good sign, because it means that I am allowing myself to feel the groundlessness of being. With all of this unsureness also comes great joy, bliss, certainty and confidence as well. It is difficult to explain, but, it is definitely a good thing. Being 'comfortable with being uncomfortable'- or, well, willing at least. :)
When asked if I liked Vietnam by a woman-traveler the other day, I described my experience to her by saying this: that I had to break into a million pieces and then be put back together again before I could come to love and enjoy this country, as it shattered my world and how I had once perceived it. After I stopped resisting and gave in to true vulnerability, I fell in love with Vietnam, its beautiful land, and its people.
Also, after five weeks in Vietnam, I had found a new place of comfort and ease, knowing how to get places, a hotel where I knew people, Swedish friends and otherwise, and was familiar with the culture; this once unknown place was now my familiar safety ground. Going to Laos was exciting, but I realized on the various bus rides- from Vietnam to Laos, then Vientiane to Luang Probang in Laos- that I had no idea where I was going, what I wanted to do, who I was going to meet, and how long I was going to stay. This can be experienced as a great blessing of unlimited choice and opportunity, but sometimes, especially when my body and mind get out of balance (lack of sleep, lack of exercise, weird and inconsistent food, lacking yoga and meditation practice, long bus rides etc...) it becomes a great source of anxiety, and I found myself wanting to call the trip off and come back home.
I spent the next day in Vientiane trying to 'make the most of it' and 'see as much as possible' but found myself getting almost nowhere on the bicycle I had just rented, after asking around about various options and bus times to get to Luang Probang. I literally made it as far as one-block from my hotel to the Mekong, and after riding back and forth, trying to figure out where to go, what to do, what I felt like doing, and when I should leave Luang Probang, I finally gave up and found a nice private seat, sitting on and leaning against a set of massive cement steps by the Mekong River, and cried like a lost child with my face buried in my arms.
I knew that this long overdue release into tears was a good sign that I was actually making progress as a traveler and a human being. I was allowing myself to let go and stop resisting my feelings, and feel all of the fear and worry and vulnerability. It is easy to run from my feelings, and just keep 'going going going', and pretend like nothing bothers me, nothing effects me, like I can just be the most adventurous and worldly traveler who can roll with all of the punches- but, as a dear teacher of mine likes to say 'This too shall effect you."
From there, I realized that I was just extremely tired and exhausted, and needed to give up on the sightseeing for a day, and take advantage of this quiet city and just RELAX. I went to my dorm room and made a cup of peppermint tea (tea bags which I had just found for the first time since leaving the U.S. two months ago! So happy!). I also determined that I would indeed leave the next morning by bus, 10 hours to Luang Probang, seated-bus only. My determination to relax in the room as well as a decision on leaving the next day was all it took for me to feel better. It was the mindset that made all of the difference.
When I got to my room, I met a girl from Sweden who had just arrived, and I invited her to join me and Shiho, the Japanese woman who was also sharing the room with us, to have dinner at the night market. I gave her all sorts of recommendations about Vietnam where she was going next, and a bit later the three of us ladies set off for the market, with bowls and cutlery borrowed from our hotel.
We shared about 5 different dishes for a total of about $3 each, and had a great meal sitting on a wall near the amusement park section of the market. Then we revisited our youth by taking a ride on a really cool ferris-wheel-like ride. We came back to the hotel, had a cup of tea in the lobby, and went to bed. I felt happy again, having found new female friends, a more peaceful inner world now that I had faced it more truthfully, and a bus ticket for the 7am bus the next morning.
An earthquake or some dreamlike version of the ground-explosions from the movie 'Tremors' from 1990 (starring Kevin Bacon, remember??) was taking place. The ground was exploding up from some force from below, raking its way up from underneath the earth, flinging rocks and bricks like missiles into the air, forming big hill-bursts that would then collapse and fall far far below.
I saw these explosions coming from far away, perhaps first in the form of a massive tsunami-like wave, which then turned into these rock-hill explosions (as happens in dreams) moving incredibly fast towards us. I was standing on a hilltop, and from my vantage point I began shouting to my friends "RUN!!! RUN!!! Get as low as you can!!!" The logic here was that the farther you had to fall, the greater likelihood of being crushed and dying. If we could stay low and maybe stay on one slab of cement, perhaps we could maintain footing (dream-logic only).
I ran and ran downhill but I felt myself lose footing and began to fall, trying to do whatever I could to stay upright. Despite my efforts, I fell to the ground out of control, but landed painlessly (as it was a dream) to what was understood by my subconscious to be my demise. I woke with my heart pounding in my dorm-room bed at the Mixay Guesthouse in Vientiane, Laos in the middle of the night, happy to still be alive, but filled with anxiety.
I share this dream with you because to me, it is highly symbolic of what this experience of travel on the other side of the world has been like for me, interwoven of course, with so many wonderful and amazing and beautiful sights, experiences, and people throughout. There has also, however, been an element of fear of the unknown, anxiety about how and where to go, as well as loneliness and homesickness. Sometimes when I think about where I am and how far away from home I am and the country that is familiar and safe to me, it scares me quite a bit. Not speaking the language, not always feeling welcome, not being understood, and not knowing where I am going or how to get where I want to go, getting lost, and what once felt like 'simple things' health-wise are difficult to find. While I have traveled with friends part of the time, and always meet new great people along the way, big picture- I am traveling alone, which is a central reason for what is bringing these feelings about. Everything is completely up to me, and it is always unknown and uncertain who I will meet next and when.
It is not just these technical questions- it also has brought about the good 'ol existential questions of 'Who am I? Where am I? Where do I belong in this world? What is my goal/intention here and anywhere and in life? What are my beliefs?' which, are questions I was wrestling with before my trip, but, being so far from home and anything familiar, as well as a new job as an elementary school teacher (5th grade) waiting for me upon my return, I still just don't know what I am doing, and feel like I am stumbling blindly through life at least half of the time. This might sound terrible to some, but to be perfectly honest, on my spiritual path as a meditator and Buddhist, I know that it is a good sign, because it means that I am allowing myself to feel the groundlessness of being. With all of this unsureness also comes great joy, bliss, certainty and confidence as well. It is difficult to explain, but, it is definitely a good thing. Being 'comfortable with being uncomfortable'- or, well, willing at least. :)
When asked if I liked Vietnam by a woman-traveler the other day, I described my experience to her by saying this: that I had to break into a million pieces and then be put back together again before I could come to love and enjoy this country, as it shattered my world and how I had once perceived it. After I stopped resisting and gave in to true vulnerability, I fell in love with Vietnam, its beautiful land, and its people.
Also, after five weeks in Vietnam, I had found a new place of comfort and ease, knowing how to get places, a hotel where I knew people, Swedish friends and otherwise, and was familiar with the culture; this once unknown place was now my familiar safety ground. Going to Laos was exciting, but I realized on the various bus rides- from Vietnam to Laos, then Vientiane to Luang Probang in Laos- that I had no idea where I was going, what I wanted to do, who I was going to meet, and how long I was going to stay. This can be experienced as a great blessing of unlimited choice and opportunity, but sometimes, especially when my body and mind get out of balance (lack of sleep, lack of exercise, weird and inconsistent food, lacking yoga and meditation practice, long bus rides etc...) it becomes a great source of anxiety, and I found myself wanting to call the trip off and come back home.
I spent the next day in Vientiane trying to 'make the most of it' and 'see as much as possible' but found myself getting almost nowhere on the bicycle I had just rented, after asking around about various options and bus times to get to Luang Probang. I literally made it as far as one-block from my hotel to the Mekong, and after riding back and forth, trying to figure out where to go, what to do, what I felt like doing, and when I should leave Luang Probang, I finally gave up and found a nice private seat, sitting on and leaning against a set of massive cement steps by the Mekong River, and cried like a lost child with my face buried in my arms.
I knew that this long overdue release into tears was a good sign that I was actually making progress as a traveler and a human being. I was allowing myself to let go and stop resisting my feelings, and feel all of the fear and worry and vulnerability. It is easy to run from my feelings, and just keep 'going going going', and pretend like nothing bothers me, nothing effects me, like I can just be the most adventurous and worldly traveler who can roll with all of the punches- but, as a dear teacher of mine likes to say 'This too shall effect you."
From there, I realized that I was just extremely tired and exhausted, and needed to give up on the sightseeing for a day, and take advantage of this quiet city and just RELAX. I went to my dorm room and made a cup of peppermint tea (tea bags which I had just found for the first time since leaving the U.S. two months ago! So happy!). I also determined that I would indeed leave the next morning by bus, 10 hours to Luang Probang, seated-bus only. My determination to relax in the room as well as a decision on leaving the next day was all it took for me to feel better. It was the mindset that made all of the difference.
When I got to my room, I met a girl from Sweden who had just arrived, and I invited her to join me and Shiho, the Japanese woman who was also sharing the room with us, to have dinner at the night market. I gave her all sorts of recommendations about Vietnam where she was going next, and a bit later the three of us ladies set off for the market, with bowls and cutlery borrowed from our hotel.
We shared about 5 different dishes for a total of about $3 each, and had a great meal sitting on a wall near the amusement park section of the market. Then we revisited our youth by taking a ride on a really cool ferris-wheel-like ride. We came back to the hotel, had a cup of tea in the lobby, and went to bed. I felt happy again, having found new female friends, a more peaceful inner world now that I had faced it more truthfully, and a bus ticket for the 7am bus the next morning.
Leaving Vietnam for Laos: The 20-hour Bus Adventure
This particular excerpt in my blog has the sole purpose of giving you an insider's (foreigner insider's) view into bus travel in Vietnam in general, and more specifically to Laos. I actually thoroughly enjoyed this slow, bumpy, unknown and uncomfortable ride, because after 5 weeks in Vietnam I came to a beautiful place of 'letting go' and 'being with what is' and such.
I left Vietnam from Hanoi on May 12th on a sleeper bus, that was determined to take anywhere from 18-24 hours, depending on who you spoke with- it was a mystery to all! The bus was predicted to leave town around 6pm, but with a 4:30 pick-up time from my hotel for some reason- I figured this was probably to pick up other passengers, and, this turned out to be partially true.
I spent my final day in Hanoi taking care of last minute loose-ends and errands, and also met Swedish photographer Daniel for lunch at a most excellent street-food booth for one final meeting, and booked myself a 1-hour Vietnamese aromatherapy massage, to get nice and flushed out and relaxed for the big bus ride, and also to undo all of the tension from all of the days of motorbiking, and just generally being in the big city. The massage was at 'SF Spa' which was a little pricier than your usual Vietnamese massage, (but still at least one quarter of the price of a massage in the states) but totally worth it- Vietnamese massage had so far not compared in any way with Thailand, for the similarly low price of $5-10 per massage, and this place was AWESOME.
I came back to my hotel at 3:50, thinking I would use the final 40 minutes before bus pick-up time to relax and do some emailing and stuff, but when I came back, Duc, the hotel manager-on-duty said 'Oh! I'll call them to pick you up now!' and I tried saying I preferred to just wait there, but just the same, the pick-up guy came at 4:10, and I was whisked away on a motorbike to about 3 blocks away, where I waited for the next hour and a half in a 'travel cafe' that was going through renovations, wondering if this was indeed the right place to be. Since nobody seemed to know anything and I had been rushed over here, I used the shower in the lobby to rinse off from the hot day! (All toilets in Vietnam also have a shower in them) I had a cup of tea, and suddenly at 5:30pm, after waiting with no word or time confirmation of anything, someone was telling me and the 2 other guys waiting to 'Hurry! Hurry!' because the minivan was here.
From there, we went around town picking up other people from various hotels and guesthouses, until there were 4 to 5 people per 3-person seat, and luggage piled up on people's laps and in the walkways. The reactions varied but mostly this young crew of English, Australian, Japanese and French were grumbling and complaining. I smiled, laughed, and shook my head with the Japanese guy next to me, as we continued to watch the large numbers approaching our van that seemed like an impossible number.
Next, we were dropped off outside by the side of the road somewhere, that turned out to be outside the bus station but a few hundred meters away. We stood around for ten minutes or so for what seemed like no reason at all, when I decided I might as well buy a bottle of water from the nearby stand. As soon as I decided to do this, suddenly it is 'We're going! Hurry! Now!' and luckily this sweet young French guy grabbed my bag for me as I finished my transition and ran to catch up.
We fill out some paperwork at the bus station and give our passport numbers, and finally we board the bus. Then, we sit on the bus after some confusion over which seats we were supposed to be in (sleeper seats/lounge chair things) and wait for some other unknown thing to take place until about 7:30pm. Finally, we left. We all wondered aloud to each other if this meant we would still get to Vientiane in Laos 24 hours after 6pm, or, 24 hours from the leaving time? Also unknown and mysterious.
The next few hours until everyone fell asleep, super loud Vietnamese pop music began playing, which, I was already used to and amused by from many other bus rides I had been on. The canadian girls next to me were tortured by this, and moaning and calling out in english to foreign and unlistening ears to 'turn it down', and again, I just laughed. Next, the sound turned into the soundtrack of the Kung Fu movies that were shown, which were AWESOME, and subtitled in English, and dubbed in Vietnamese (I think.)
During the night, the bus stopped a number of times while we all slept. When we awoke in the morning at 6:30am with our arrival to the Vietnam-Laos border to get our Visas, there were a bunch of large boxes with computers and printers in the back bed/seat area, and the purpose of the late-night-early-morning stops was a little bit clearer. After our stop at the Visa office, one English guy found his bed/seat taken by yet another box. :)
The visa office was seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and involved stopping in and out of 3 or 4 windows for various purposes. Fried bananas and cookies could be purchased at nearby stops, and there was a pay toilet with the walls broken and collapsed in by a small avalanche of the muddy hill behind/above it. For this privilege I paid 2,000 dong (only a small fraction of a dollar, but still funny!)
About four hours later, we stopped for the first time for real food. There were two small restaurants right next to each other, and we all stumbled off the bus into one. We sat at a small table and waited. We watched the table next to us (Laos people) getting orders taken, and then getting served. We tried waving down a staff person, but nothing. With a few words and grumbles, we decided as a group to go right next door, a restaurant separated from this one only by part of a cement wall, and a large window without a pane. It was almost like being in the same room! This place was great- it was buffet-style, and they loaded our plates up with tasty local Vietnamese food with much variety for 5,000Kip- less than $1. For some of my fellow bus-riders, I ate the extra 'weird' meats (pork) and eggs they had on their plates, in exchange for my rice and tofu.
We made it through to the other side, and with a few more stops along the way, we arrived in Vientiane, the capital city of Laos, at about 3:30pm! Only 19 hours! Hooray! We were all tired and stiff, but happily pleased and surprised.
I booked myself a dorm bed at the Mixay Guesthouse along with everyone else on my bus for $5 a night, and went in search of the night market with an English guy named Kevin who I met on the bus. We searched and searched but had trouble finding it as many streets have no names, or at least no signage marking them .. . when we finally found it we were happy and walked through, and played a few little market games to win a prize from a 10-year old boy. I won a little chocolate treat and gave it to Kevin. Next we discovered that there are no containers or dishes or chopsticks at the night market, as most locals just come and buy the food to go. We decided to come back the next night with the proper cutlery, and to go back to a Mekong River-side restaurant selling whole fish on the grill.
It was a tasty and quiet night, and I went to bed rather early, not even knowing if when or if I was leaving the next day for Luang Probang. I decided to sleep on it and see how I felt in the morning.
I left Vietnam from Hanoi on May 12th on a sleeper bus, that was determined to take anywhere from 18-24 hours, depending on who you spoke with- it was a mystery to all! The bus was predicted to leave town around 6pm, but with a 4:30 pick-up time from my hotel for some reason- I figured this was probably to pick up other passengers, and, this turned out to be partially true.
I spent my final day in Hanoi taking care of last minute loose-ends and errands, and also met Swedish photographer Daniel for lunch at a most excellent street-food booth for one final meeting, and booked myself a 1-hour Vietnamese aromatherapy massage, to get nice and flushed out and relaxed for the big bus ride, and also to undo all of the tension from all of the days of motorbiking, and just generally being in the big city. The massage was at 'SF Spa' which was a little pricier than your usual Vietnamese massage, (but still at least one quarter of the price of a massage in the states) but totally worth it- Vietnamese massage had so far not compared in any way with Thailand, for the similarly low price of $5-10 per massage, and this place was AWESOME.
I came back to my hotel at 3:50, thinking I would use the final 40 minutes before bus pick-up time to relax and do some emailing and stuff, but when I came back, Duc, the hotel manager-on-duty said 'Oh! I'll call them to pick you up now!' and I tried saying I preferred to just wait there, but just the same, the pick-up guy came at 4:10, and I was whisked away on a motorbike to about 3 blocks away, where I waited for the next hour and a half in a 'travel cafe' that was going through renovations, wondering if this was indeed the right place to be. Since nobody seemed to know anything and I had been rushed over here, I used the shower in the lobby to rinse off from the hot day! (All toilets in Vietnam also have a shower in them) I had a cup of tea, and suddenly at 5:30pm, after waiting with no word or time confirmation of anything, someone was telling me and the 2 other guys waiting to 'Hurry! Hurry!' because the minivan was here.
From there, we went around town picking up other people from various hotels and guesthouses, until there were 4 to 5 people per 3-person seat, and luggage piled up on people's laps and in the walkways. The reactions varied but mostly this young crew of English, Australian, Japanese and French were grumbling and complaining. I smiled, laughed, and shook my head with the Japanese guy next to me, as we continued to watch the large numbers approaching our van that seemed like an impossible number.
Next, we were dropped off outside by the side of the road somewhere, that turned out to be outside the bus station but a few hundred meters away. We stood around for ten minutes or so for what seemed like no reason at all, when I decided I might as well buy a bottle of water from the nearby stand. As soon as I decided to do this, suddenly it is 'We're going! Hurry! Now!' and luckily this sweet young French guy grabbed my bag for me as I finished my transition and ran to catch up.
We fill out some paperwork at the bus station and give our passport numbers, and finally we board the bus. Then, we sit on the bus after some confusion over which seats we were supposed to be in (sleeper seats/lounge chair things) and wait for some other unknown thing to take place until about 7:30pm. Finally, we left. We all wondered aloud to each other if this meant we would still get to Vientiane in Laos 24 hours after 6pm, or, 24 hours from the leaving time? Also unknown and mysterious.
The next few hours until everyone fell asleep, super loud Vietnamese pop music began playing, which, I was already used to and amused by from many other bus rides I had been on. The canadian girls next to me were tortured by this, and moaning and calling out in english to foreign and unlistening ears to 'turn it down', and again, I just laughed. Next, the sound turned into the soundtrack of the Kung Fu movies that were shown, which were AWESOME, and subtitled in English, and dubbed in Vietnamese (I think.)
During the night, the bus stopped a number of times while we all slept. When we awoke in the morning at 6:30am with our arrival to the Vietnam-Laos border to get our Visas, there were a bunch of large boxes with computers and printers in the back bed/seat area, and the purpose of the late-night-early-morning stops was a little bit clearer. After our stop at the Visa office, one English guy found his bed/seat taken by yet another box. :)
The visa office was seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and involved stopping in and out of 3 or 4 windows for various purposes. Fried bananas and cookies could be purchased at nearby stops, and there was a pay toilet with the walls broken and collapsed in by a small avalanche of the muddy hill behind/above it. For this privilege I paid 2,000 dong (only a small fraction of a dollar, but still funny!)
About four hours later, we stopped for the first time for real food. There were two small restaurants right next to each other, and we all stumbled off the bus into one. We sat at a small table and waited. We watched the table next to us (Laos people) getting orders taken, and then getting served. We tried waving down a staff person, but nothing. With a few words and grumbles, we decided as a group to go right next door, a restaurant separated from this one only by part of a cement wall, and a large window without a pane. It was almost like being in the same room! This place was great- it was buffet-style, and they loaded our plates up with tasty local Vietnamese food with much variety for 5,000Kip- less than $1. For some of my fellow bus-riders, I ate the extra 'weird' meats (pork) and eggs they had on their plates, in exchange for my rice and tofu.
We made it through to the other side, and with a few more stops along the way, we arrived in Vientiane, the capital city of Laos, at about 3:30pm! Only 19 hours! Hooray! We were all tired and stiff, but happily pleased and surprised.
I booked myself a dorm bed at the Mixay Guesthouse along with everyone else on my bus for $5 a night, and went in search of the night market with an English guy named Kevin who I met on the bus. We searched and searched but had trouble finding it as many streets have no names, or at least no signage marking them .. . when we finally found it we were happy and walked through, and played a few little market games to win a prize from a 10-year old boy. I won a little chocolate treat and gave it to Kevin. Next we discovered that there are no containers or dishes or chopsticks at the night market, as most locals just come and buy the food to go. We decided to come back the next night with the proper cutlery, and to go back to a Mekong River-side restaurant selling whole fish on the grill.
It was a tasty and quiet night, and I went to bed rather early, not even knowing if when or if I was leaving the next day for Luang Probang. I decided to sleep on it and see how I felt in the morning.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Sapa to Hanoi
After breakfast with the 'Swedish Daniels', I left for Yen Bai as my theoretical stopping point. There were 380km between Sapa and Hanoi remaining, but I was leaving too late as usual- 11am! I was told the drive could be done in 10 hours, but I was almost certain I did not want to be returning to the city with at least 2 hours of darkness at the end of my trip, not to mention navigating the streets and traffic of the city itself.
The hours that laid themselves before me from there on were relatively uneventful. The three day break that I had taken from the bike was good for resting my body from its' bumpy and same-position riding that brings about great stiffness and sometimes inflammation for me, but now I was sore from the two days of lots of hiking, and my butt had lost its endurance after three days off, and I was in pain almost immediately. The first 3 or 4 hours of the ride I was stopping every hour and having a snack, some water, and stretching as best I could on the side of the road. I was not enjoying the ride, wasn't taking photos, and had a feeling of just wanting to get back.
Somewhere in the second half of the day, I got a second wind. Maybe it was because I got to follow a guy on a motorbike with a pig strapped to the back of his vehicle, and took the best photos I could considering I had to keep one hand on the bike and drive in a straight line. Or maybe it was my time behind 'Beeping Guy' who, beeped almost constantly. Vietnamese beep from their motorbikes regularly which I am quite accustomed to, in order to say 'I'm here' or 'I'm passing' etc. .. but this guy beeped at EVERYTHING! I found it irritating, but also amusing, and deeming him 'Beeping Guy' in my head made it fun to follow him for what turned out to be quite a while.
The scenery was beautiful as ever, and I passed through many towns. When I got to Yen Bai, it was only 4 or 4:30, and it didn't seem particularly appealing, and was quite dusty, so I decided to keep going. I made it to another town and then another. When I got to a town that showed a sign for '130km to Hanoi' I felt a sudden urgency and desire to just push through until I got there. This only lasted about 30-40 minutes, because once the sun went down and it became dark, I was driving through massive amounts of dust in the air, bugs flying straight into my eyes, completely dark streets when there weren't massive construction trucks blowing by me on their way home for the weekend, and it was not fun, and practically impossible. I passed through many tiny towns with signs for hotels, but they seemed more isolated and quiet than I was comfortable with. Finally I came upon a big sign with bright lights high up on the side of the road, advertising the Tuan Anh Hotel, and somehow I just knew this was the right place for me- it seemed more official, somehow, and bigger, so I felt I could trust it.
I rode down the driveway and was pointed in the direction of the lobby. I was greeted by a young woman and an older woman, and quickly rented myself a room. We tried communicating various things and managed to succeed in getting everything in order. The older woman took me to my room, and then asked for my passport so we went to the lobby together. Before we did, I took a look in the mirror, and my face was black with dust, and my hair a rat's nest! I exclaimed out loud, and she laughed, and showed me the comb. I washed my face and combed my hair and made myself a bit more presentable, amused at my current disheveled state.
When we finished our passport/registration process in the lobby, I was trying to ask them for food and they kept nodding but not doing anything. Finally, the young woman understood and took me by the arm and took me across the street to a local home restaurant, and ordered me an egg soup and a beef pho. I was ever grateful. She spoke a small amount of english so we had some light conversation between me ordering and then wolfing down my dinner. All the locals were watching me, but with smiles and more of a sense of curiosity and welcoming than what I had mostly been experiencing in Vietnam so far, so, it was nice. I had finally reached a place of being okay with being totally helpless and vulnerable, and in the hands of people spoke another language, and I know this because I was happy with it all, even though I was quite uncomfortable, tired, hungry, lost, and didn't really know where I was. I still don't know the name of this town, but, I think it was Don Toc, or something like that, though, no one has been able to confirm this upon my asking.
Spent the rest of the night showering, stretching, and watching Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, reading my book 'Catfish and the Mandala' (which I highly recommend) and sleeping. I woke up early the next morning, said my goodbyes to the family running the hotel (and shared tea with the older woman after she came peeking into my hotel room and pretending to steal my wallet from me) and left. I stopped in the next town for some beef pho at a stand run by an elder Vietnamese woman and her daughter (with baby), and had a lovely morning for the rest of the way back into Hanoi City. Slowly as I got closer and closer to the city, I entered more and more traffic, riding into more and more developed towns along the way.
At one point, the sign side '70km to Hanoi'. Five minutes later, it said '40km to Hanoi.' What??? I hoped that this error was correct! And, it was! How crazy! But, suddenly, turning onto the major highway into Hanoi, I was suddenly 30km closer than I thought, and I felt a surge of energy and anticipation. I used this energy to fuel me for the final hour which was navigating back onto the major roads into Hanoi, and I had to stop at least four or five times to ask directions even with my map, and turned around a number of those times. I had left at about 8:30/9 in the morning, and finally arrived to my good 'ol home sweet home of the Real Darling Cafe at 12:45 in the afternoon, tired, hungry, hot, sweaty, and HAPPY!
Luong and Duc are people working at the Real Darling Cafe who I have gotten to know during my ins and outs to and from Hanoi, and, it was great to return and talk to them, eat some food, and tell them about my trip. They were happy to see me, and told me they were impressed that I did this thing, especially since they had both urged me against going by myself before I left.
I had plans to meet up with the Swedes later in the afternoon, but for now- it was food, relaxation, and rest! And, booking a trip to Halong Bay on the east coast for the following two days!!! Hooray! I was going on vacation! (*wink*)
The hours that laid themselves before me from there on were relatively uneventful. The three day break that I had taken from the bike was good for resting my body from its' bumpy and same-position riding that brings about great stiffness and sometimes inflammation for me, but now I was sore from the two days of lots of hiking, and my butt had lost its endurance after three days off, and I was in pain almost immediately. The first 3 or 4 hours of the ride I was stopping every hour and having a snack, some water, and stretching as best I could on the side of the road. I was not enjoying the ride, wasn't taking photos, and had a feeling of just wanting to get back.
Somewhere in the second half of the day, I got a second wind. Maybe it was because I got to follow a guy on a motorbike with a pig strapped to the back of his vehicle, and took the best photos I could considering I had to keep one hand on the bike and drive in a straight line. Or maybe it was my time behind 'Beeping Guy' who, beeped almost constantly. Vietnamese beep from their motorbikes regularly which I am quite accustomed to, in order to say 'I'm here' or 'I'm passing' etc. .. but this guy beeped at EVERYTHING! I found it irritating, but also amusing, and deeming him 'Beeping Guy' in my head made it fun to follow him for what turned out to be quite a while.
The scenery was beautiful as ever, and I passed through many towns. When I got to Yen Bai, it was only 4 or 4:30, and it didn't seem particularly appealing, and was quite dusty, so I decided to keep going. I made it to another town and then another. When I got to a town that showed a sign for '130km to Hanoi' I felt a sudden urgency and desire to just push through until I got there. This only lasted about 30-40 minutes, because once the sun went down and it became dark, I was driving through massive amounts of dust in the air, bugs flying straight into my eyes, completely dark streets when there weren't massive construction trucks blowing by me on their way home for the weekend, and it was not fun, and practically impossible. I passed through many tiny towns with signs for hotels, but they seemed more isolated and quiet than I was comfortable with. Finally I came upon a big sign with bright lights high up on the side of the road, advertising the Tuan Anh Hotel, and somehow I just knew this was the right place for me- it seemed more official, somehow, and bigger, so I felt I could trust it.
I rode down the driveway and was pointed in the direction of the lobby. I was greeted by a young woman and an older woman, and quickly rented myself a room. We tried communicating various things and managed to succeed in getting everything in order. The older woman took me to my room, and then asked for my passport so we went to the lobby together. Before we did, I took a look in the mirror, and my face was black with dust, and my hair a rat's nest! I exclaimed out loud, and she laughed, and showed me the comb. I washed my face and combed my hair and made myself a bit more presentable, amused at my current disheveled state.
When we finished our passport/registration process in the lobby, I was trying to ask them for food and they kept nodding but not doing anything. Finally, the young woman understood and took me by the arm and took me across the street to a local home restaurant, and ordered me an egg soup and a beef pho. I was ever grateful. She spoke a small amount of english so we had some light conversation between me ordering and then wolfing down my dinner. All the locals were watching me, but with smiles and more of a sense of curiosity and welcoming than what I had mostly been experiencing in Vietnam so far, so, it was nice. I had finally reached a place of being okay with being totally helpless and vulnerable, and in the hands of people spoke another language, and I know this because I was happy with it all, even though I was quite uncomfortable, tired, hungry, lost, and didn't really know where I was. I still don't know the name of this town, but, I think it was Don Toc, or something like that, though, no one has been able to confirm this upon my asking.
Spent the rest of the night showering, stretching, and watching Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, reading my book 'Catfish and the Mandala' (which I highly recommend) and sleeping. I woke up early the next morning, said my goodbyes to the family running the hotel (and shared tea with the older woman after she came peeking into my hotel room and pretending to steal my wallet from me) and left. I stopped in the next town for some beef pho at a stand run by an elder Vietnamese woman and her daughter (with baby), and had a lovely morning for the rest of the way back into Hanoi City. Slowly as I got closer and closer to the city, I entered more and more traffic, riding into more and more developed towns along the way.
At one point, the sign side '70km to Hanoi'. Five minutes later, it said '40km to Hanoi.' What??? I hoped that this error was correct! And, it was! How crazy! But, suddenly, turning onto the major highway into Hanoi, I was suddenly 30km closer than I thought, and I felt a surge of energy and anticipation. I used this energy to fuel me for the final hour which was navigating back onto the major roads into Hanoi, and I had to stop at least four or five times to ask directions even with my map, and turned around a number of those times. I had left at about 8:30/9 in the morning, and finally arrived to my good 'ol home sweet home of the Real Darling Cafe at 12:45 in the afternoon, tired, hungry, hot, sweaty, and HAPPY!
Luong and Duc are people working at the Real Darling Cafe who I have gotten to know during my ins and outs to and from Hanoi, and, it was great to return and talk to them, eat some food, and tell them about my trip. They were happy to see me, and told me they were impressed that I did this thing, especially since they had both urged me against going by myself before I left.
I had plans to meet up with the Swedes later in the afternoon, but for now- it was food, relaxation, and rest! And, booking a trip to Halong Bay on the east coast for the following two days!!! Hooray! I was going on vacation! (*wink*)
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Sapa
Sapa is a beautiful mountain town, and was my final destination in this trip beyond making my way back to Hanoi. I had only planned to spend 2 nights and one full day there, but upon arriving after my 175km drive arriving just after sunset, I was instantly convinced to extend my visa in Vietnam due to the charm and beauty of the town, and stayed 4 nights and 3 days. This was a worthy place to stay, and an especial joy to arrive into it after the previous 5 days of intense driving on the bike- my body needed a rest!
Sapa is described in my guidebook as "The Queen of the Mountains, Sapa sits regally overlooking a beautiful valley, lofty mountains towering over the town on all sides. Welcome to the destination in northwest Vietnam, gateway to another world of mysterious minority cultures and luscious landscapes." It is indeed. :)
Before I talk about Sapa, I want to first say that there are many things I haven't mentioned about this lengthy beautiful and taxing journey- there were many times where I was invited to sit and have tea in peoples homes along the way, besides the one time in Mai Chau. One place I was merely stopping for Pho and wound up sharing tea with the woman who prepared my meal for me (and this was also after crashing my bike from the incline of their driveway when I got off the bike too soon while still riding the gas, and hurt myself and smashed the side mirror of the motorbike- which I had just replaced the day before from a similar but less painful self-imposed accident).
Another hot afternoon, I stopped to buy water from a couple out of their shop, and after rubbing the belly of their adorable little puppy who rolled onto its back for me, the couple was charmed, and smiling, invited me to join them and their neighbor for tea. Another woman offered me to stay in her home when I stopped to buy gas from her during my final leg to Muong Lay, as it was starting to get dark and I still had at least 30km to go. People were just so kind and sweet. The views of mountains and farms and fields and people and Black Thais and White Thais and Black H'mong and Red Tzaos were breathtaking. It took me a long time to travel these roads partially due to twisting, turning, and climbing of the roads, but also because I had to stop so many times to take photos.
That said, I was ready to stop for a bit. I checked myself into the Mountain View Hotel, an excellent hotel with panoramic views from the rooms and a great deal- $15 per night. I had dinner that evening, and enjoyed the cool night air. I slept long and hard that night, and attempted to explore the next morning, but quickly felt the fatigue of my past 5 days of riding, and after being harassed and followed by the endless stream of Black H'mong and Red Tzao women trying to sell me their jewelry, bags, and other trinkets, I bee-lined it back to my hotel room, and gave myself the day that I really needed- horizontal in a cushy bed, watching Vietnamese HBO once more. This is a remedy that I employed back in Nha Trang when I had gotten quite sick weeks earlier, and was an excellent cure. Sometimes I just need to stop with the adventures and sightseeing, and recharge completely.
I had dinner out but overall a quiet night, and I was happy for it. The Black H'mong and Red Tzao women that I described are incredibly beautiful in their dress and decoration, and the history that lines their faces. I had an earnest desire to connect with them the day before when I started my morning exploration, but in doing so I made myself vulnerable to their central operative which was to sell me (and every tourist) stuff.
I was at one point followed by easily ten women and girls, all saying with a pleading voice "Buy from me? Buy from me!" and they have all learned to speak English, and start the sales by approaching people on the street and first asking "Where are you from?" and then "Did you get here this morning? How long you spend in Sapa?" and next "You buy from me?" and they are absolutely relentless. Or they say "You come to my village I make you lunch and you buy from me there?" for which you would bargain an unknown price....I had trouble saying "no" and/or walking away, because I was coming from my place of genuine desire to connect, but I quickly learned that if I was to go anywhere or do anything other than debate about buying or not, I had to just say "no" and keep walking, or if I answered someones' questions I sometimes would say "I'm from America- and I'm not buying anything! But I'm happy to talk if you want!"
There was one particular woman named 'Seh' and I connected with her on the first day, and at the end of my 3rd and final day, I did indeed wind up buying some beautiful metal hand-made earrings from her. I saw her throughout my days in Sapa, and got to hold her sweet 6-month old daughter named 'Boh' and was able to actually spend time with her and share space without the continuing push to buy from her.
Anyhow, the next morning, when I woke up rested, I had a changed perspective and new energy, and none of this seemed overwhelming anymore. I had a skip in my step and lightness in my heart. Exhaustion is difficult while traveling- I felt extremely lonely on that first day of rest, not knowing how I was going to continue on this long trip- the motorbike trip, AND two more months in SE Asia! But, it is amazing what a good meal and a good night's sleep will do for a person.
While drinking tea and waiting for my breakfast in the hotel, two guys speaking a different language sat down at the table behind me, and I had this strong inclination to ask to join them. So, I did! They accepted. They were two guys both named Daniel, from Sweden, and were very friendly and welcoming. We had breakfast together that morning, and we continued to hang out over the next two days and nights, as well as upon my return to Hanoi many days later, and also a 2 day trip to Halong Bay with one of them once I was back.
That morning I wandered down to the Cat Cat Village, which was a long wandering of stairs through people's shops and homes, and eventually a meandering path around farms and fields and waterfalls. It was raining and I had an umbrella and my rainponcho, and my heart was singing. I stopped and shared some of my fried lotus seeds with an elderly Vietnamese man sitting outside a restaurant who had waved me over, and wound up interacting with his daughter and her baby. The baby's father gave me the baby to hold! I was quite touched, as I have not encountered this in Vietnam so far. I continued on my walk, as I ascended the long hill back to town, I met a French couple who was being led by a Vietnamese guide. After talking for a bit they all invited me to lunch, which was very nice!
I found the Daniels after lunch and asked them to go for a walk up to the top of town which is a small mountain with a radio tower, but many sight and gardens along the way. We were hiking through fog, and it was quite fun exploring with them. We met up later for dinner, and wandered the streets of Sapa.
The next day I signed myself up for a 1-day trek through the villages, which was quite fun and beautiful, and not too strenuous. It was over a period of five or six hours. We had one Black H'mong girl leading us as our official guide, but we also had at least five or six Black H'mong ladies accompanying us unofficially, partially to keep us company and come along for fun, but also with the hopes that after so much time together we would buy something from them, which, at the end of the tour, most of us did. It was quite nice actually, because for the duration of the trek, we were just talking or sharing space and silence and walking, being helped down muddy hills by our lady hosts, and enjoying the scenery.
When we got to our halfway point for lunch, we reached what is an unofficial (but official it seemed) station where ALL of the Black H'mong and Red Tzao ladies are waiting from the different villages, hoping to target all of the tourist groups stopping for lunch. I got surrounded. There were at least ten women and girls surrounding me. What I didn't realize was how vulnerable I was at that moment, and that I was probably long overdue for lunch, which, for me is extremely important for me when it comes to potentially intense and overwhelming situations. I bought one thing from one lady, and this just made all the other ladies come at me even more intensely, saying 'buy from me! buy from me! buy from MEEEE!' and I turn and suddenly a woman with one missing eye is in my face saying 'Buy from me, Please!!' I start fanning myself with my hand to indicate to them that I am feeling hot and possibly faint, I crouch down to get my water from my backpack, and while drinking from it (still surrounded by this pack) there are two or three little children with dirty faces who now can reach me and say 'buy from me buy from me' and all of a sudden something short circuits in me and I push my way out of the crowd, tears already rising from my throat and making their way out of my eyes, and I walk ten feet away to get some space and allow the overwhelm to shake itself out of my system.
The one lady who I bought from comes to comfort me, as well as our tour guide. They are both very sweet and use comforting words and plead with me "Don't be sad! Please- be happy!" as I cry beyond my own control, in a way that is usually only reserved for the privacy of solitude, but, since I have been in Vietnam I have been in multiple situations where I could not hold my feelings in, and, while it feels very vulnerable, I think it has been good for me to let it out, even amidst strangers in a foreign world.
Once I have regained myself, I go in for lunch and eat with the Swiss and French couples that were in my tour group, and I feel much better after having eaten, though slightly humbled. The tour finishes an hour or two later after we walk some more and are then driven up a long long hill back to our hotel. I rest that afternoon, and meet up with the Daniels that evening for more food and more wandering of the streets, and set a time to meet for breakfast for the next morning, when I am due to leave for Yen Bai which is halfway back to Hanoi, or, if I am lucky - all the way to Hanoi!
Sapa is described in my guidebook as "The Queen of the Mountains, Sapa sits regally overlooking a beautiful valley, lofty mountains towering over the town on all sides. Welcome to the destination in northwest Vietnam, gateway to another world of mysterious minority cultures and luscious landscapes." It is indeed. :)
Before I talk about Sapa, I want to first say that there are many things I haven't mentioned about this lengthy beautiful and taxing journey- there were many times where I was invited to sit and have tea in peoples homes along the way, besides the one time in Mai Chau. One place I was merely stopping for Pho and wound up sharing tea with the woman who prepared my meal for me (and this was also after crashing my bike from the incline of their driveway when I got off the bike too soon while still riding the gas, and hurt myself and smashed the side mirror of the motorbike- which I had just replaced the day before from a similar but less painful self-imposed accident).
Another hot afternoon, I stopped to buy water from a couple out of their shop, and after rubbing the belly of their adorable little puppy who rolled onto its back for me, the couple was charmed, and smiling, invited me to join them and their neighbor for tea. Another woman offered me to stay in her home when I stopped to buy gas from her during my final leg to Muong Lay, as it was starting to get dark and I still had at least 30km to go. People were just so kind and sweet. The views of mountains and farms and fields and people and Black Thais and White Thais and Black H'mong and Red Tzaos were breathtaking. It took me a long time to travel these roads partially due to twisting, turning, and climbing of the roads, but also because I had to stop so many times to take photos.
That said, I was ready to stop for a bit. I checked myself into the Mountain View Hotel, an excellent hotel with panoramic views from the rooms and a great deal- $15 per night. I had dinner that evening, and enjoyed the cool night air. I slept long and hard that night, and attempted to explore the next morning, but quickly felt the fatigue of my past 5 days of riding, and after being harassed and followed by the endless stream of Black H'mong and Red Tzao women trying to sell me their jewelry, bags, and other trinkets, I bee-lined it back to my hotel room, and gave myself the day that I really needed- horizontal in a cushy bed, watching Vietnamese HBO once more. This is a remedy that I employed back in Nha Trang when I had gotten quite sick weeks earlier, and was an excellent cure. Sometimes I just need to stop with the adventures and sightseeing, and recharge completely.
I had dinner out but overall a quiet night, and I was happy for it. The Black H'mong and Red Tzao women that I described are incredibly beautiful in their dress and decoration, and the history that lines their faces. I had an earnest desire to connect with them the day before when I started my morning exploration, but in doing so I made myself vulnerable to their central operative which was to sell me (and every tourist) stuff.
I was at one point followed by easily ten women and girls, all saying with a pleading voice "Buy from me? Buy from me!" and they have all learned to speak English, and start the sales by approaching people on the street and first asking "Where are you from?" and then "Did you get here this morning? How long you spend in Sapa?" and next "You buy from me?" and they are absolutely relentless. Or they say "You come to my village I make you lunch and you buy from me there?" for which you would bargain an unknown price....I had trouble saying "no" and/or walking away, because I was coming from my place of genuine desire to connect, but I quickly learned that if I was to go anywhere or do anything other than debate about buying or not, I had to just say "no" and keep walking, or if I answered someones' questions I sometimes would say "I'm from America- and I'm not buying anything! But I'm happy to talk if you want!"
There was one particular woman named 'Seh' and I connected with her on the first day, and at the end of my 3rd and final day, I did indeed wind up buying some beautiful metal hand-made earrings from her. I saw her throughout my days in Sapa, and got to hold her sweet 6-month old daughter named 'Boh' and was able to actually spend time with her and share space without the continuing push to buy from her.
Anyhow, the next morning, when I woke up rested, I had a changed perspective and new energy, and none of this seemed overwhelming anymore. I had a skip in my step and lightness in my heart. Exhaustion is difficult while traveling- I felt extremely lonely on that first day of rest, not knowing how I was going to continue on this long trip- the motorbike trip, AND two more months in SE Asia! But, it is amazing what a good meal and a good night's sleep will do for a person.
While drinking tea and waiting for my breakfast in the hotel, two guys speaking a different language sat down at the table behind me, and I had this strong inclination to ask to join them. So, I did! They accepted. They were two guys both named Daniel, from Sweden, and were very friendly and welcoming. We had breakfast together that morning, and we continued to hang out over the next two days and nights, as well as upon my return to Hanoi many days later, and also a 2 day trip to Halong Bay with one of them once I was back.
That morning I wandered down to the Cat Cat Village, which was a long wandering of stairs through people's shops and homes, and eventually a meandering path around farms and fields and waterfalls. It was raining and I had an umbrella and my rainponcho, and my heart was singing. I stopped and shared some of my fried lotus seeds with an elderly Vietnamese man sitting outside a restaurant who had waved me over, and wound up interacting with his daughter and her baby. The baby's father gave me the baby to hold! I was quite touched, as I have not encountered this in Vietnam so far. I continued on my walk, as I ascended the long hill back to town, I met a French couple who was being led by a Vietnamese guide. After talking for a bit they all invited me to lunch, which was very nice!
I found the Daniels after lunch and asked them to go for a walk up to the top of town which is a small mountain with a radio tower, but many sight and gardens along the way. We were hiking through fog, and it was quite fun exploring with them. We met up later for dinner, and wandered the streets of Sapa.
The next day I signed myself up for a 1-day trek through the villages, which was quite fun and beautiful, and not too strenuous. It was over a period of five or six hours. We had one Black H'mong girl leading us as our official guide, but we also had at least five or six Black H'mong ladies accompanying us unofficially, partially to keep us company and come along for fun, but also with the hopes that after so much time together we would buy something from them, which, at the end of the tour, most of us did. It was quite nice actually, because for the duration of the trek, we were just talking or sharing space and silence and walking, being helped down muddy hills by our lady hosts, and enjoying the scenery.
When we got to our halfway point for lunch, we reached what is an unofficial (but official it seemed) station where ALL of the Black H'mong and Red Tzao ladies are waiting from the different villages, hoping to target all of the tourist groups stopping for lunch. I got surrounded. There were at least ten women and girls surrounding me. What I didn't realize was how vulnerable I was at that moment, and that I was probably long overdue for lunch, which, for me is extremely important for me when it comes to potentially intense and overwhelming situations. I bought one thing from one lady, and this just made all the other ladies come at me even more intensely, saying 'buy from me! buy from me! buy from MEEEE!' and I turn and suddenly a woman with one missing eye is in my face saying 'Buy from me, Please!!' I start fanning myself with my hand to indicate to them that I am feeling hot and possibly faint, I crouch down to get my water from my backpack, and while drinking from it (still surrounded by this pack) there are two or three little children with dirty faces who now can reach me and say 'buy from me buy from me' and all of a sudden something short circuits in me and I push my way out of the crowd, tears already rising from my throat and making their way out of my eyes, and I walk ten feet away to get some space and allow the overwhelm to shake itself out of my system.
The one lady who I bought from comes to comfort me, as well as our tour guide. They are both very sweet and use comforting words and plead with me "Don't be sad! Please- be happy!" as I cry beyond my own control, in a way that is usually only reserved for the privacy of solitude, but, since I have been in Vietnam I have been in multiple situations where I could not hold my feelings in, and, while it feels very vulnerable, I think it has been good for me to let it out, even amidst strangers in a foreign world.
Once I have regained myself, I go in for lunch and eat with the Swiss and French couples that were in my tour group, and I feel much better after having eaten, though slightly humbled. The tour finishes an hour or two later after we walk some more and are then driven up a long long hill back to our hotel. I rest that afternoon, and meet up with the Daniels that evening for more food and more wandering of the streets, and set a time to meet for breakfast for the next morning, when I am due to leave for Yen Bai which is halfway back to Hanoi, or, if I am lucky - all the way to Hanoi!
Son La to Muong Lay
When I woke up in Son La, I felt refreshed and ready to take on a new day. I showered, drank some tea, and packed my bags. I crossed the street to the same food alley of the night before, but this time tried a different, and more inviting restaurant. There were many sweet girls and ladies working there, quite obviously family, and I managed with my Vietnamese Dictionary to order an omelet with some grilled chicken for breakfast. They very pleasantly did so, as one of the younger girls in the family scooted around drying the floor with a rag under her feet, and we all began giggling.
I then ordered TWO more orders of my breakfast, deciding to take food on the road with me this time. The two days before, I had been depending on Pho stands on the street, and for any of you that know me and my dietary habits rather well, you know that I am a high-protein low-carb girl, and the Pho that is served is mostly noodles, and little meat. This food was good for temporary satiation, but in the end was making me feel drained and hungry, adding to stress of the long hours on the bike. Buying these two extra orders of food is the best choice I made on this entire trip, and I followed suit for the remainder of my motorbike journey.
After leaving happily from this restaurant, I left later than I had planned, at 10am. It was late, but I was cheerful, and that mood permeated the rest of the day, and thank goodness for that, as it was the most long and challenging day of my entire motorbike trip.
The first 80-90km of this 190km day were relatively easy, though it was slow going, as from here the roads became rocky, bumpy, and curvy, and required slower speeds. I finished this first part in about 3 hours, and stopped to eat one of my two chicken-egg meals, while sitting overlooking an insanely beautiful valley of farmland, rice paddies, and hills. The sun was shining, and all was well. This was Tuan Giau. The remainder of my journey to Muong Lay was about 100 km further, up a road called '6'. It took me seven hours to accomplish this final 100km, and it showed me what I was made of!
Through sun, rain, terrible roads, navigating slowly slowly slowly long stretches of calf-deep mud and watching Vietnamese men flip on their bikes in it, riding the brakes going downhill on gravel-covered steep roads in the rain (that compared to many I have experienced in San Francisco), climbing rocky roads that scared me to look at, I made my way to Muong Lay. On this day, I talked out loud to myself, uttering words of firm encouragement, words of fear, words of courage. I spoke in my normal voice, Southern Accents, British Accents, Australian Accents, and sang. This was all to keep myself focused, on-track, and to maintain a sense of humour. I was laughing out loud and swearing, and while it was the hardest day of this trip terrain-wise, it is one of my favourites.
The final hour of this ride was in total darkness. I counted out loud at each rock sign-post that spelled out the remaining mileage to Muong Lay- 20km. 18km. 16km. All the way down until it was 3, 2, 1 and then I had arrived. But where was the town? It was not certain. I saw a sign for the one hotel in this town, the Lanh Anh hotel, and followed its pointing arrow. I drove down the road to what seemed like nowhere, passing small dimly lit huts on an otherwise completely dark road. I stopped, and waved down the next motorbiker that was passing, and asked him where the hotel was. He spoke no English, but he motioned to me to follow him, and he led me another 10-15 minutes through dark and muddy roads, across a bridge with no railings, through even deeper mud that I had to slow down and use my feet on the ground to stay balanced on, until he stopped. If he hadn't been riding so much farther ahead of me, I would have asked him if this was really the right way- that is how in far out and random it seemed, and I began to worry that I was being led into a bad situation by a dangerous stranger.
It turns out he was just a very nice stranger, living in a very small town, whose only hotel was perched at the top of the steepest hill that I had seen all day (which is saying a lot), which was also made completely up of mud. Thick, deep, mud, with evidence of skidding and falling by drivers before me. He points to this hill, and I look at him with disbelief. Out of nowhere appears another guy, who through gesturing my unofficial guide explains that this other guy is going to help me up the hill. I don't know what exactly this means- is he going to drive my motorbike for me? No. He is going to push my motorbike from behind as I drive it, skidding up through the mud!!
I try this actual 'driving' thing for about 4 seconds, and as I feel my wheels spinning and the bike losing its upright position, I hop off and amazingly remain standing. We decide through motioning that I am going to run the gas of the bike with it in 1st gear, with me pushing from the handlebars, and him pushing the back of the bike. We huff and puff up the hill (it was mostly me huffing and puffing) and I stopped three times in those 5-10 minutes to stop and catch my breath, as I laughed and expressed through various sounds of bafflement to him that this was intense. Finally we reach the top of the mud, and he indicates that I am to ride the rest of the way up. I thank him in Vietnamese and English 'Cam-on! Thank you! Cam-on!' and ride the final one minute up the first sign of paved road I had seen in many hours.
At the top of the hill is the Lanh Anh hotel, and it is an incredibly nice place, with a large outdoor restaurant, and deluxe wooden-cabin room with a hot shower which I got for the bargain price of $15 (that said, I was probably charged far too much, just for being a foreigner). I got this room by approaching the large table of Vietnamese that were enjoying their dinners, and owner woman said 'Room?' and I said 'YES!!!!' with great gusto, gratitude and relief (it was now 8pm and I had been riding for 10 hours). They gave me the keys, and I went into my beautiful room and found a big white double bed and a delicious hot shower and a bathtub.
I got the hot water going for some tea, took a shower, and went as fast as I could to the restaurant. I had a most excellent meal that evening, and a great night's sleep. Ah, another day on the road! Tomorrow's mission: to Sapa!
I then ordered TWO more orders of my breakfast, deciding to take food on the road with me this time. The two days before, I had been depending on Pho stands on the street, and for any of you that know me and my dietary habits rather well, you know that I am a high-protein low-carb girl, and the Pho that is served is mostly noodles, and little meat. This food was good for temporary satiation, but in the end was making me feel drained and hungry, adding to stress of the long hours on the bike. Buying these two extra orders of food is the best choice I made on this entire trip, and I followed suit for the remainder of my motorbike journey.
After leaving happily from this restaurant, I left later than I had planned, at 10am. It was late, but I was cheerful, and that mood permeated the rest of the day, and thank goodness for that, as it was the most long and challenging day of my entire motorbike trip.
The first 80-90km of this 190km day were relatively easy, though it was slow going, as from here the roads became rocky, bumpy, and curvy, and required slower speeds. I finished this first part in about 3 hours, and stopped to eat one of my two chicken-egg meals, while sitting overlooking an insanely beautiful valley of farmland, rice paddies, and hills. The sun was shining, and all was well. This was Tuan Giau. The remainder of my journey to Muong Lay was about 100 km further, up a road called '6'. It took me seven hours to accomplish this final 100km, and it showed me what I was made of!
Through sun, rain, terrible roads, navigating slowly slowly slowly long stretches of calf-deep mud and watching Vietnamese men flip on their bikes in it, riding the brakes going downhill on gravel-covered steep roads in the rain (that compared to many I have experienced in San Francisco), climbing rocky roads that scared me to look at, I made my way to Muong Lay. On this day, I talked out loud to myself, uttering words of firm encouragement, words of fear, words of courage. I spoke in my normal voice, Southern Accents, British Accents, Australian Accents, and sang. This was all to keep myself focused, on-track, and to maintain a sense of humour. I was laughing out loud and swearing, and while it was the hardest day of this trip terrain-wise, it is one of my favourites.
The final hour of this ride was in total darkness. I counted out loud at each rock sign-post that spelled out the remaining mileage to Muong Lay- 20km. 18km. 16km. All the way down until it was 3, 2, 1 and then I had arrived. But where was the town? It was not certain. I saw a sign for the one hotel in this town, the Lanh Anh hotel, and followed its pointing arrow. I drove down the road to what seemed like nowhere, passing small dimly lit huts on an otherwise completely dark road. I stopped, and waved down the next motorbiker that was passing, and asked him where the hotel was. He spoke no English, but he motioned to me to follow him, and he led me another 10-15 minutes through dark and muddy roads, across a bridge with no railings, through even deeper mud that I had to slow down and use my feet on the ground to stay balanced on, until he stopped. If he hadn't been riding so much farther ahead of me, I would have asked him if this was really the right way- that is how in far out and random it seemed, and I began to worry that I was being led into a bad situation by a dangerous stranger.
It turns out he was just a very nice stranger, living in a very small town, whose only hotel was perched at the top of the steepest hill that I had seen all day (which is saying a lot), which was also made completely up of mud. Thick, deep, mud, with evidence of skidding and falling by drivers before me. He points to this hill, and I look at him with disbelief. Out of nowhere appears another guy, who through gesturing my unofficial guide explains that this other guy is going to help me up the hill. I don't know what exactly this means- is he going to drive my motorbike for me? No. He is going to push my motorbike from behind as I drive it, skidding up through the mud!!
I try this actual 'driving' thing for about 4 seconds, and as I feel my wheels spinning and the bike losing its upright position, I hop off and amazingly remain standing. We decide through motioning that I am going to run the gas of the bike with it in 1st gear, with me pushing from the handlebars, and him pushing the back of the bike. We huff and puff up the hill (it was mostly me huffing and puffing) and I stopped three times in those 5-10 minutes to stop and catch my breath, as I laughed and expressed through various sounds of bafflement to him that this was intense. Finally we reach the top of the mud, and he indicates that I am to ride the rest of the way up. I thank him in Vietnamese and English 'Cam-on! Thank you! Cam-on!' and ride the final one minute up the first sign of paved road I had seen in many hours.
At the top of the hill is the Lanh Anh hotel, and it is an incredibly nice place, with a large outdoor restaurant, and deluxe wooden-cabin room with a hot shower which I got for the bargain price of $15 (that said, I was probably charged far too much, just for being a foreigner). I got this room by approaching the large table of Vietnamese that were enjoying their dinners, and owner woman said 'Room?' and I said 'YES!!!!' with great gusto, gratitude and relief (it was now 8pm and I had been riding for 10 hours). They gave me the keys, and I went into my beautiful room and found a big white double bed and a delicious hot shower and a bathtub.
I got the hot water going for some tea, took a shower, and went as fast as I could to the restaurant. I had a most excellent meal that evening, and a great night's sleep. Ah, another day on the road! Tomorrow's mission: to Sapa!
Mai Chau to Son La
After I parted ways with Karim who had driven me the first 10km of my ride to Son La, the next destination on my solo motorbike trip of Northwest Vietnam, I made excellent time. I left close to 11am which is far later than I had planned, but I had a good breakfast, morning, and ample time to spend with Hua my host, as well as Karim, and we were both convinced that this was more important than making good time.
That said, I did indeed make good time, with a full belly, heart, and gas tank (though very little sleep as I had stayed up late the night before). I was in in Son La relatively event-free by 4:30pm that evening, having covered the 170km quite efficiently. I felt quite proud of myself for making such good time, but was also quite tired and hungry from the drive. I had only to find a hotel.
Apparently, I should have booked ahead of time. I spent the next two hours driving around this city, which, was loud, dusty, hot, and quite unappealing to my tastes. I drove to five different hotels (one of which I actually never found) and they were all fully booked. It was a holiday weekend for the Vietnamese, so everyone was flooding to Son La for the weekend. By the time I reached my fifth hotel, and they told me they had no rooms, I begged them through sudden and unexpected tears to offer me a suggestion. The hotel guy took pity on me, and wound up driving me on my motorbike to a nearby guesthouse, and set me up there, after offering words of comfort on the ride over, telling me that we will find something.
I stayed in a rather dingy and over-priced guesthouse, but I was happy to have found something. My lack of sleep from the night before had caught up with me, as well as my empty belly, and all I wanted to do was find food and then go back to sleep. I showered the dust of the day off, and walked across the road to a nearby food alley. I walked into the first place I saw, and ordered the 'same-same' as what the other people were ordering, which, I assumed was beef.
When I got my plate, and tried my meal, it was not beef. It was a terrible and chewy meat which made my eyes water, and I suddenly realized as I remembered the words of my guidebooks' description of this town that I was probably eating dog. The tears that had sprung from the unpalatable flavor of this dish turned to tears of sadness and frustration as I wondered if I was going to be able to find a good meal that night, as well as the fact that the lady who was cooking the food was less than friendly, and the young couple at the table next to me were staring at me, and watching me as I chewed and cried.
I saw a plate of eggs on the table of the couple, and I stood up and pointed to them, talking to the cook saying 'same-same? same-same?' I had also just tried ordering chicken from her a moment before, so I think she was confused. She grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me over to her cooking station, pointing and gesturing to make sure I wanted the chicken. I confirmed. I returned to my seat and waited, and a massive bowl of rice was brought to me. Then the chicken. The couple next to me apparently took pity on me as well, and made a gesture that warmed my heart and dried my tears- they took their plate of scrambled eggs/omelette and put it on my table, as the cook had not understood my earlier order. I thanked them profusely, and proceeded to wolf down the eggs, and finished off the chicken.
I left, and went back to my hotel, drank some tea provided by the usual thermos of hot water that is offered in hotels and guesthouses in Vietnam, and went to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day, when I would make my way to the rural town of Muong Lay, a projected 180 km away, and potentially quite a long and challenging ride. I was determined to get a good night's sleep, and get an early start the next day.
That said, I did indeed make good time, with a full belly, heart, and gas tank (though very little sleep as I had stayed up late the night before). I was in in Son La relatively event-free by 4:30pm that evening, having covered the 170km quite efficiently. I felt quite proud of myself for making such good time, but was also quite tired and hungry from the drive. I had only to find a hotel.
Apparently, I should have booked ahead of time. I spent the next two hours driving around this city, which, was loud, dusty, hot, and quite unappealing to my tastes. I drove to five different hotels (one of which I actually never found) and they were all fully booked. It was a holiday weekend for the Vietnamese, so everyone was flooding to Son La for the weekend. By the time I reached my fifth hotel, and they told me they had no rooms, I begged them through sudden and unexpected tears to offer me a suggestion. The hotel guy took pity on me, and wound up driving me on my motorbike to a nearby guesthouse, and set me up there, after offering words of comfort on the ride over, telling me that we will find something.
I stayed in a rather dingy and over-priced guesthouse, but I was happy to have found something. My lack of sleep from the night before had caught up with me, as well as my empty belly, and all I wanted to do was find food and then go back to sleep. I showered the dust of the day off, and walked across the road to a nearby food alley. I walked into the first place I saw, and ordered the 'same-same' as what the other people were ordering, which, I assumed was beef.
When I got my plate, and tried my meal, it was not beef. It was a terrible and chewy meat which made my eyes water, and I suddenly realized as I remembered the words of my guidebooks' description of this town that I was probably eating dog. The tears that had sprung from the unpalatable flavor of this dish turned to tears of sadness and frustration as I wondered if I was going to be able to find a good meal that night, as well as the fact that the lady who was cooking the food was less than friendly, and the young couple at the table next to me were staring at me, and watching me as I chewed and cried.
I saw a plate of eggs on the table of the couple, and I stood up and pointed to them, talking to the cook saying 'same-same? same-same?' I had also just tried ordering chicken from her a moment before, so I think she was confused. She grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me over to her cooking station, pointing and gesturing to make sure I wanted the chicken. I confirmed. I returned to my seat and waited, and a massive bowl of rice was brought to me. Then the chicken. The couple next to me apparently took pity on me as well, and made a gesture that warmed my heart and dried my tears- they took their plate of scrambled eggs/omelette and put it on my table, as the cook had not understood my earlier order. I thanked them profusely, and proceeded to wolf down the eggs, and finished off the chicken.
I left, and went back to my hotel, drank some tea provided by the usual thermos of hot water that is offered in hotels and guesthouses in Vietnam, and went to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day, when I would make my way to the rural town of Muong Lay, a projected 180 km away, and potentially quite a long and challenging ride. I was determined to get a good night's sleep, and get an early start the next day.
Mai Chau
Mai Chau was indeed a very special place indeed, and I am so glad I listened to my intuition to stay there for the whole next day instead of rushing off to the next destination on my motorbike journey.
After some hot showers, and a fantastic dinner for three made for the two Belgian guys and me on the first night by Hua, the Black Thai villager who was hosting us in the homestay, Peter, Loic and I stayed up talking, journaling, sharing music from our Ipods, hanging our wet clothes and stuff to dry, and eventually going to sleep with the sounds of the frogs and insects as our bedtime lullaby.
We woke in the morning to a good breakfast, and hung about. The guys were planning on leaving that morning as they were trying to catch up to some Americans from Chicago who were also motorbiking their way south on the Ho Chi Minh trail, but, it was not meant to be. The rain started again, and while waiting it out we decided to visit a local mechanic to fix the various issues each of our bikes were having. We drove up the hill and stopped almost immediately, as the roads and villages of Vietnam are covered with motorbike mechanics (mostly out of people's homes, with a sign advertising 'Rua Xe'). We communicated through gesturing what needed doing on each of our bikes, and as the rain continued, we hung out with the Vietnamese mechanics (who were masters of their trade and had us fixed up in no time, at an unbelievably cheap rate) under cover from the rain, as they passed their Bamboo Water Pipe to the guys, as I watched.
Despite the rain, I felt a sense of urgency pulsating through my being that said I couldn't just sit around- I had to explore! So I motorbiked it back to our homestay, and rented a bicycle. I got my big rain poncho on, and went off into the rain, well-protected and happy. I rode around for the next 6 hours until it got dark! I stopped at the same Pho restaurant twice during that time to fuel my activities, well-fed by a warm elder Vietnamese lady, who I watched terrible Vietnamese soap operas with while I consumed my lunch and then late-afternoon snack. It was quite sweet.
After a half an hour or so, the rain let up and the sun came out. I went wherever my feet pedaled me to, following only beautiful sites as my guide, constantly stopping to take photographs, turning into alleys and side streets and passing by adults and children bathing in small waterfall areas, passing by water buffaloes rolling in the mud, and people cycling and motorbiking by. The scenery is beautiful lush green-covered mountains, rice paddy fields, and sunshine. I actually started crying at one point for the beauty of it all.
At one point, I stopped to take a photograph of a dog that was sleeping on a stairway up to its house, and as I did, a young woman named Thien pulled up on a motorbike next to me, and began asking me where I was from in English. After only one minute, she invited me into her house (the same of the sleeping dog) and I shared tea with her and her father. We chatted for about half an hour, as Thien and I spoke in English, and she translated between me and her father, who kept asking me if I wanted to marry a Vietnamese man. I had such a pleasant stay there, and left feeling quite happy.
I continued exploring and riding around, and the more I kept thinking about Thien and her father, the more I got a strong desire to give them something. Thien's father had offered me to smoke from his Bamboo Water Pipe, but to preserve my lungs I declined. He had pointed with disdain to his empty pack of cigarettes, expressing that his favorite cigarettes were gone. I found the nearest shop, and bought 3 packs of these cigarettes (for a total adding up to the American equivalent of about $2.50) and a roll of candy for Thien. I rode my bike back to their house, expecting to merely drop the goods off secretly with a note, but I was spotted instantly, and invited in again with gratitude, and a request that I photograph the father working his hammock-weaving loom.
I came inside, and was followed and greeted by about ten more family members and neighbors, who observed the excitement of a foreigner in the house, and the father working the intricate loom with his feet. I took photos of him, as well as three generations of women in the family sitting together. We had a wonderful time drinking tea and laughing with whatever means of communication we possessed, and my heart was touched by this special connection.
Back to the bicycle after an hour, I explored the roads until the air began cooling and the sky was growing dark. I returned to my homestay dirty, sweaty, and happy.
There were a handful of new people just arrived to our place, and that night was quite fun as I shared a hearty meal with a German woman. She spoke a bit of English, but she said Spanish was easier for her, so we had a passionate discussion in Spanish about travel, international politics, and life. She was great, and it was quite an excellent hour and a half meal!
I spent the rest of the evening talking with Karim, an Israeli man who gave me a 3 hour photography lesson in how to use the manual settings on my camera, as well as talking about life and travel. He also sent me off the next morning by accompanying me to a mechanic to fix the odometer on my bike (something I had not thought to fix the previous day) and drove me the first 10km of my ride towards Son La, my next destination, where he then said goodbye and boarded his bus back to Hanoi. I was sad to leave this beautiful village-town, but had many kilometers and days to go on this mysterious Northwest journey!
After some hot showers, and a fantastic dinner for three made for the two Belgian guys and me on the first night by Hua, the Black Thai villager who was hosting us in the homestay, Peter, Loic and I stayed up talking, journaling, sharing music from our Ipods, hanging our wet clothes and stuff to dry, and eventually going to sleep with the sounds of the frogs and insects as our bedtime lullaby.
We woke in the morning to a good breakfast, and hung about. The guys were planning on leaving that morning as they were trying to catch up to some Americans from Chicago who were also motorbiking their way south on the Ho Chi Minh trail, but, it was not meant to be. The rain started again, and while waiting it out we decided to visit a local mechanic to fix the various issues each of our bikes were having. We drove up the hill and stopped almost immediately, as the roads and villages of Vietnam are covered with motorbike mechanics (mostly out of people's homes, with a sign advertising 'Rua Xe'). We communicated through gesturing what needed doing on each of our bikes, and as the rain continued, we hung out with the Vietnamese mechanics (who were masters of their trade and had us fixed up in no time, at an unbelievably cheap rate) under cover from the rain, as they passed their Bamboo Water Pipe to the guys, as I watched.
Despite the rain, I felt a sense of urgency pulsating through my being that said I couldn't just sit around- I had to explore! So I motorbiked it back to our homestay, and rented a bicycle. I got my big rain poncho on, and went off into the rain, well-protected and happy. I rode around for the next 6 hours until it got dark! I stopped at the same Pho restaurant twice during that time to fuel my activities, well-fed by a warm elder Vietnamese lady, who I watched terrible Vietnamese soap operas with while I consumed my lunch and then late-afternoon snack. It was quite sweet.
After a half an hour or so, the rain let up and the sun came out. I went wherever my feet pedaled me to, following only beautiful sites as my guide, constantly stopping to take photographs, turning into alleys and side streets and passing by adults and children bathing in small waterfall areas, passing by water buffaloes rolling in the mud, and people cycling and motorbiking by. The scenery is beautiful lush green-covered mountains, rice paddy fields, and sunshine. I actually started crying at one point for the beauty of it all.
At one point, I stopped to take a photograph of a dog that was sleeping on a stairway up to its house, and as I did, a young woman named Thien pulled up on a motorbike next to me, and began asking me where I was from in English. After only one minute, she invited me into her house (the same of the sleeping dog) and I shared tea with her and her father. We chatted for about half an hour, as Thien and I spoke in English, and she translated between me and her father, who kept asking me if I wanted to marry a Vietnamese man. I had such a pleasant stay there, and left feeling quite happy.
I continued exploring and riding around, and the more I kept thinking about Thien and her father, the more I got a strong desire to give them something. Thien's father had offered me to smoke from his Bamboo Water Pipe, but to preserve my lungs I declined. He had pointed with disdain to his empty pack of cigarettes, expressing that his favorite cigarettes were gone. I found the nearest shop, and bought 3 packs of these cigarettes (for a total adding up to the American equivalent of about $2.50) and a roll of candy for Thien. I rode my bike back to their house, expecting to merely drop the goods off secretly with a note, but I was spotted instantly, and invited in again with gratitude, and a request that I photograph the father working his hammock-weaving loom.
I came inside, and was followed and greeted by about ten more family members and neighbors, who observed the excitement of a foreigner in the house, and the father working the intricate loom with his feet. I took photos of him, as well as three generations of women in the family sitting together. We had a wonderful time drinking tea and laughing with whatever means of communication we possessed, and my heart was touched by this special connection.
Back to the bicycle after an hour, I explored the roads until the air began cooling and the sky was growing dark. I returned to my homestay dirty, sweaty, and happy.
There were a handful of new people just arrived to our place, and that night was quite fun as I shared a hearty meal with a German woman. She spoke a bit of English, but she said Spanish was easier for her, so we had a passionate discussion in Spanish about travel, international politics, and life. She was great, and it was quite an excellent hour and a half meal!
I spent the rest of the evening talking with Karim, an Israeli man who gave me a 3 hour photography lesson in how to use the manual settings on my camera, as well as talking about life and travel. He also sent me off the next morning by accompanying me to a mechanic to fix the odometer on my bike (something I had not thought to fix the previous day) and drove me the first 10km of my ride towards Son La, my next destination, where he then said goodbye and boarded his bus back to Hanoi. I was sad to leave this beautiful village-town, but had many kilometers and days to go on this mysterious Northwest journey!
Hanoi to Mai Chau
I arrived in Hanoi the morning of April 26th, and left the morning of April 28th on what was to be a ten day journey on a motorbike by myself to the Northwest section of Vietnam, said to be some of the most beautiful sites in the country.
Before I leaving Hanoi for my epic motorbike journey, I was able to walk and cycle around the busy metropolitan and ever-traffic-laden town- around Hoan Kiem Lake, through the Old Quarter where I am staying, visited the Ngoc Son Temple located across the Huc Bridge on the Lake, and after trying ice cream at the famous 'Fanny's', I took in a Water Puppetry show at the Municipal Water Puppet Theater. I also had some very tasty barbeque at an outdoor Vietnamese BBQ restaurant where you grill your own meat on the table, in the company of an old highschool friend's brother who happens to be living out in Hanoi teaching English! Hadn't seen him in over ten years, and this was probably our first one-on-one conversation we'd ever had, and yet in the middle of a Vietnamese city on the other side of the world, it felt as natural and familiar as anything. Good 'ol east coast connections and memories!
Throughout my explorations of the city, it was also my mission to get ready for my Northwest motorbike tour that I estimated to be 6-8 days. My to-do list for my motorbike trip:
Buy:
-proper hiking shoes
-medium-sized backpack
-toilet paper
-floss (never found this one)
-map
-motorbike (rented through my hotel)
I wound up renting a Honda motorbike, probably 100 or 125cc, or somewhere in between. I was a bit skeptical upon first viewing the vehicle, wondering if it would get me up through the mountain roads that awaited me. I had heard through people and travel books that the Russian Minske was the bike to take on long distance and rugged road travel in Vietnam, but all of the Vietnamese men I spoke with told me that the Minske had many problems, and that unless I was a skilled mechanic, I should opt for the Honda. I took his advice, as my mechanical skills are slim to none. As it turned out, the Honda was an EXCELLENT bike, and took me through hell and high water over the next bunch of days of rough terrain.
Day 1: Hanoi to Mai Chau, 135km
I woke up, had a good breakfast in my hotel, and made my way out of Hanoi. Leaving the city took the good part of an hour, as I wove in and out of morning traffic and finally out of the noise and hubbub of the city. About 2 or so hours into the journey, I stopped at a Pho restaurant on the side of the road. A few minutes later I passed a pair of Westerners stopped with their motorbikes, and made a quick U-turn to go back and talk to them. There I met Loic and Peter, two Belgian guys on their way to Mai Chau, and on a mission to Ho Chi Minh from there. Within the first minute of talking it was determined that we would ride together the rest of the way to Mai Chau, and I tell you, it was a blessing that I found them, as the next half of the day proved to be quite intense and would have felt a whole lot scarier and stressful if I had not been accompanied by these Belgian Adventurers.
The next hour or so was fun and easy, making our way through various towns, stopping for drinks and hard-boiled eggs, when it started raining. At first it was just a drizzle, but as we found ourselves navigating up and down steep mountain curves and hills, the rain began to come down harder and harder, until I couldn't see the road from the rain stabbing sharply into my eyes. We pulled over once, and tried driving again. Finally, we decided to take cover when we spotted a hut just off the side of the road, and pulled our bikes up next to it. There was an elderly lady inside this hut, and she invited us to come inside and sit down, and wait out the rain. Her grandson was in the room, deeply immersed in his cellphone, uninterested in the three foreigners that had invaded his bedroom/living room. The lady and her grandson spoke no English, and we spoke no Vietnamese, but we managed to communicate nonetheless, with smiles, laughs, gestures, and facial expressions. Perhaps the occasional word from an English-Vietnamese dictionary, and some cookies purchased by the Belgians from the lady.
We stayed in that hut for about one hour, during which time we had our first experience of observing the Vietnamese bamboo water pipe. At first I thought it was a musical instrument, and naively cried 'Oh! She's going to play some music!' when she pulled out a lighter, and began puffing away from this large bamboo pipe. She smoked from the side of her mouth, and with each exhale she made eye contact with me and smiled a devious smile. It made me laugh and we all enjoyed watching this mysterious ritual.
The rain finally calmed down, and we made our way back out to the road. The rain came and went many times over the next hour or so, but as we climbed many more mountain hills, we were all shivering from the cool mountain air that was hitting us at 40-50km an hour from our moving motorbikes, and we had gotten wet from the rain before putting on our rain ponchos. We took cover at a Pho stand at the top of a hill, and thought we ordered 3 bowls, but as we warmed ourselves by a fire for 15-20 mins, we realized that there was no food on its way. We were cold and hungry, but we determined that it was going to be dark soon, and we still had a ways to go, and much more climbing to do.
The views we passed were breathtaking, with fog encapsulating the mountain peaks and the green of the trees glowing from their perches, but as the rain returned, and the roads were curvier than ever, there was no possibility of stopping to take photos. Just as darkness fell upon us, we slowed down into a town, and were approached by an eager group of people, telling us to come stay with them in their home. I remembered that this was the town where 'homestays' are the only option for accommodation, and now my question about how that homestay was to be found was answered. We followed the main guy on our motorbikes for fifteen minutes in the dark, not knowing how far we were going, or if this was really how things worked around here, but just crossed our fingers and hoped it would all work out, and that there would be food and a hot shower when we finally arrived at our unknown destination.
The homestays in Mai Chau are Traditional Thai Stilted Houses, and this is where we stayed that night. Downstairs is where the family lives, in the back, with a dining room area in the front, open-air. Upstairs are bamboo woven floors and walls, where travelers sleep on thin mattresses under mosquito netting. The view from the upstairs dining area (also open-air) was beautiful, even in the dark. The insects and frogs were filling the humid air with their night songs, and I felt my heart leap with joy at our newest destination. The Belgians negotiated a good price for the three of us that included dinner, sleeping, and breakfast, and on my way to a hot shower, I already knew that I would not be leaving the next morning, as this place needed to be explored, and while the next three towns I was planning to ride to remained mysterious in nature/setting, I had a strong intuition that this town was special, a treasure not to be missed.
Before I leaving Hanoi for my epic motorbike journey, I was able to walk and cycle around the busy metropolitan and ever-traffic-laden town- around Hoan Kiem Lake, through the Old Quarter where I am staying, visited the Ngoc Son Temple located across the Huc Bridge on the Lake, and after trying ice cream at the famous 'Fanny's', I took in a Water Puppetry show at the Municipal Water Puppet Theater. I also had some very tasty barbeque at an outdoor Vietnamese BBQ restaurant where you grill your own meat on the table, in the company of an old highschool friend's brother who happens to be living out in Hanoi teaching English! Hadn't seen him in over ten years, and this was probably our first one-on-one conversation we'd ever had, and yet in the middle of a Vietnamese city on the other side of the world, it felt as natural and familiar as anything. Good 'ol east coast connections and memories!
Throughout my explorations of the city, it was also my mission to get ready for my Northwest motorbike tour that I estimated to be 6-8 days. My to-do list for my motorbike trip:
Buy:
-proper hiking shoes
-medium-sized backpack
-toilet paper
-floss (never found this one)
-map
-motorbike (rented through my hotel)
I wound up renting a Honda motorbike, probably 100 or 125cc, or somewhere in between. I was a bit skeptical upon first viewing the vehicle, wondering if it would get me up through the mountain roads that awaited me. I had heard through people and travel books that the Russian Minske was the bike to take on long distance and rugged road travel in Vietnam, but all of the Vietnamese men I spoke with told me that the Minske had many problems, and that unless I was a skilled mechanic, I should opt for the Honda. I took his advice, as my mechanical skills are slim to none. As it turned out, the Honda was an EXCELLENT bike, and took me through hell and high water over the next bunch of days of rough terrain.
Day 1: Hanoi to Mai Chau, 135km
I woke up, had a good breakfast in my hotel, and made my way out of Hanoi. Leaving the city took the good part of an hour, as I wove in and out of morning traffic and finally out of the noise and hubbub of the city. About 2 or so hours into the journey, I stopped at a Pho restaurant on the side of the road. A few minutes later I passed a pair of Westerners stopped with their motorbikes, and made a quick U-turn to go back and talk to them. There I met Loic and Peter, two Belgian guys on their way to Mai Chau, and on a mission to Ho Chi Minh from there. Within the first minute of talking it was determined that we would ride together the rest of the way to Mai Chau, and I tell you, it was a blessing that I found them, as the next half of the day proved to be quite intense and would have felt a whole lot scarier and stressful if I had not been accompanied by these Belgian Adventurers.
The next hour or so was fun and easy, making our way through various towns, stopping for drinks and hard-boiled eggs, when it started raining. At first it was just a drizzle, but as we found ourselves navigating up and down steep mountain curves and hills, the rain began to come down harder and harder, until I couldn't see the road from the rain stabbing sharply into my eyes. We pulled over once, and tried driving again. Finally, we decided to take cover when we spotted a hut just off the side of the road, and pulled our bikes up next to it. There was an elderly lady inside this hut, and she invited us to come inside and sit down, and wait out the rain. Her grandson was in the room, deeply immersed in his cellphone, uninterested in the three foreigners that had invaded his bedroom/living room. The lady and her grandson spoke no English, and we spoke no Vietnamese, but we managed to communicate nonetheless, with smiles, laughs, gestures, and facial expressions. Perhaps the occasional word from an English-Vietnamese dictionary, and some cookies purchased by the Belgians from the lady.
We stayed in that hut for about one hour, during which time we had our first experience of observing the Vietnamese bamboo water pipe. At first I thought it was a musical instrument, and naively cried 'Oh! She's going to play some music!' when she pulled out a lighter, and began puffing away from this large bamboo pipe. She smoked from the side of her mouth, and with each exhale she made eye contact with me and smiled a devious smile. It made me laugh and we all enjoyed watching this mysterious ritual.
The rain finally calmed down, and we made our way back out to the road. The rain came and went many times over the next hour or so, but as we climbed many more mountain hills, we were all shivering from the cool mountain air that was hitting us at 40-50km an hour from our moving motorbikes, and we had gotten wet from the rain before putting on our rain ponchos. We took cover at a Pho stand at the top of a hill, and thought we ordered 3 bowls, but as we warmed ourselves by a fire for 15-20 mins, we realized that there was no food on its way. We were cold and hungry, but we determined that it was going to be dark soon, and we still had a ways to go, and much more climbing to do.
The views we passed were breathtaking, with fog encapsulating the mountain peaks and the green of the trees glowing from their perches, but as the rain returned, and the roads were curvier than ever, there was no possibility of stopping to take photos. Just as darkness fell upon us, we slowed down into a town, and were approached by an eager group of people, telling us to come stay with them in their home. I remembered that this was the town where 'homestays' are the only option for accommodation, and now my question about how that homestay was to be found was answered. We followed the main guy on our motorbikes for fifteen minutes in the dark, not knowing how far we were going, or if this was really how things worked around here, but just crossed our fingers and hoped it would all work out, and that there would be food and a hot shower when we finally arrived at our unknown destination.
The homestays in Mai Chau are Traditional Thai Stilted Houses, and this is where we stayed that night. Downstairs is where the family lives, in the back, with a dining room area in the front, open-air. Upstairs are bamboo woven floors and walls, where travelers sleep on thin mattresses under mosquito netting. The view from the upstairs dining area (also open-air) was beautiful, even in the dark. The insects and frogs were filling the humid air with their night songs, and I felt my heart leap with joy at our newest destination. The Belgians negotiated a good price for the three of us that included dinner, sleeping, and breakfast, and on my way to a hot shower, I already knew that I would not be leaving the next morning, as this place needed to be explored, and while the next three towns I was planning to ride to remained mysterious in nature/setting, I had a strong intuition that this town was special, a treasure not to be missed.
From Hue to to Hanoi
Wow! Almost three weeks have passed since my last blog- this does well to demonstrate how all-consuming Vietnam has been for me! All-consuming, and, rich. :)
I spent two days in Hue with Claude, and this is where we parted ways, as I set off by myself for the first time since I had arrived in Vietnam (with the exception of my 24-hour little motorbike excursion to Hoi An), to make my way from Hue to Hanoi. It was a different feeling indeed to know that I had Claude to come back to when I took off for my little mini-vacation to the popular beach town of Hoi An; as I pulled away from Claude in a Cyclo towards the Hue Train station and the 7:30pm sleeper-train that would take me to Hanoi that night, I felt my own raw vulnerability and fear filter through my heart and body, (along with some excitement and joy), as I headed off in to the unknown by myself, in a country that had already proven itself to be harsh.
I felt emotion start to well up in my throat and make its way to my eyes as I realized how much I was going to miss Claude after spending three rich weeks together in Vietnam. We shared many experiences and made many discoveries together. He took me to places and introduced me to people that I never would have seen or met, and gave me more of an insider's view to the ways of the Vietnamese people, as he has spent extensive time out here and speaks the language. He offered me great support during my hardest times and week of illness, and I don't know what I would have done without him! He now remains in Hue for the next two months to finish a book he has been writing.
Before we parted ways, we spent the two days in Hue together, exploring by bicycle the first day, and by motorbike on the second. Day one was my absolute favorite, because after we visited the Forbidden Purple City and attended a traditional cultural performance of music, dance, and dragons at the Royal Theater in the morning, we took our bicycles for a ride around the Song Huong (Perfume River) all afternoon until dinnertime.
This ride was so incredible! We explored the many dirt roads and pathways that weave through many villages that exist just a kilometer or two outside the city center. I felt like we had traveled in time, as the contrast between the hustle and bustle of downtown Hue and these quiet country roads that were just outside of it was vast. All day, we rode around at a slow pace, stopping frequently to take photos, talk to locals, (especially the kids that came running after us all day shouting 'He-llooo! What is your name? Hell-ooo! Goodbye! What is your name? He-llooo!' It was so much fun and such a joy.
At one point we hit what we thought was the end of the road, and a pack of ten local Village-women approached us and surrounded Claude as soon as they realized that he could speak Vietnamese. They were trying to convince us to leave our bicycles behind and continue the path by foot, and either way, to take a ride to the other side of the river with them on one of their boats. They were smiling and giggling for the ten minutes we spent interacting with them as we sucked on sugarcane sticks that we had bought just a bit earlier down the road, and decided to take their advice.
We walked up a long trail of stairs to a Pagoda at the top. Beautiful. Many shrines created an enclosure around the most ornate and central shrine. Incense burned by the handful in sand-filled planters every way we turned, and little candles burned in subtle corners, as I marveled at the maintenance it must take to keep these alight, with not a Monk in sight. This Pagoda seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, and when we had cycled out to this location, I had felt like we were far from the regularly traveled path, and had not seen a single other tourist along the way. Nonetheless, there was a little station below the Pagoda by the river of people selling bottles of water and other drinks. This has been true all over Vietnam so far, and this feeling of big city against wandering to what feels like the middle of nowhere has been ever-penetrating.
When we descended the stairs back to our enthusiastic village-women, two of them loaded our two town-bikes into a long canoe, and helped us in. We had a slow ride across the river to the other side that lasted less than ten minutes, with Claude and I snapping pictures of ourselves, the bicycles, and the paddling ladies all packed into this small and narrow boat. We made it back to the other side, and tipped our dedicated escorts. We explored until the sun threatened to disappear, and came back to the city for dinner and sleep.
The next day we rented a motorbike and drove out to the Tomb of Tu Duc, and later to the Tomb of Minh Mang. These are both beautiful historical sites, with ruins of old buildings set in and around lakes and forests. Important to visit and experience, but I definitely prefer the bicycle wanderings of the previous afternoon in local villages! :)
That evening is when Claude and I parted ways at finding a Cyclo driver to take me to the Train Station. The driver spoke a little bit of English so he practiced by making conversation by chatting with me for the ten minute ride to the station. When I asked him the common Vietnamese question of 'Are you married?' he said "No, no... Cyclo Drivers do not make good husbands!"
After determining the correct line to get into for my train, and then figuring out which track to stand at (this information was gleaned through multiple conversations and gesturing from other waiting Vietnamese passengers and a conversation in English with some younger Vietnamese people who told me I was a 'true traveler' for taking the train when I could be flying in an airplane like most foreigners) I got on board.
There was further confusion over which compartment I was to get into, but finally I found it, and got on my top bunk in a 4-bed sleeper compartment, "soft berth" the highest luxury in Vietnamese train travel. I shared my compartment with three older Vietnamese guys, and I definitely felt my own strangeness in their eyes. It was a little uncomfortable as I could feel their watching eyes on me every time I climbed up or down from my bunk, but as the passage of time from that night to the following morning ensued, I became used to their stares, and even exchanged a few smiles with them, as well as one of them helping me to lower my bag from its high storage compartment. I slept quite well that night with the rocking of the train and its sounds that lulled me to sleep.
I had called 'The Real Darling Cafe' from my Vietnamese cell phone on the train the next morning, and reserved myself a room. When I got to the Hanoi train station, I was quickly identified as a customer by a local motorbike taxi driver, and with my large traveler backpack on my back, and my smaller backpack on my front, I hopped on the back of his bike and wrapped my arms around his waist, and he sped me to my hotel, which is a family-run place, where I got a sweet triple room for the price of a single, at $9 per night. This is where I have been staying before, between, and after multiple trips in and out of the city, and has been a great place to book trips, ask questions, and chart my course on an impending solo motorbike tour that I was planning in the NorthWest part of Vietnam, which I left for two days after arriving in Hanoi.
I spent two days in Hue with Claude, and this is where we parted ways, as I set off by myself for the first time since I had arrived in Vietnam (with the exception of my 24-hour little motorbike excursion to Hoi An), to make my way from Hue to Hanoi. It was a different feeling indeed to know that I had Claude to come back to when I took off for my little mini-vacation to the popular beach town of Hoi An; as I pulled away from Claude in a Cyclo towards the Hue Train station and the 7:30pm sleeper-train that would take me to Hanoi that night, I felt my own raw vulnerability and fear filter through my heart and body, (along with some excitement and joy), as I headed off in to the unknown by myself, in a country that had already proven itself to be harsh.
I felt emotion start to well up in my throat and make its way to my eyes as I realized how much I was going to miss Claude after spending three rich weeks together in Vietnam. We shared many experiences and made many discoveries together. He took me to places and introduced me to people that I never would have seen or met, and gave me more of an insider's view to the ways of the Vietnamese people, as he has spent extensive time out here and speaks the language. He offered me great support during my hardest times and week of illness, and I don't know what I would have done without him! He now remains in Hue for the next two months to finish a book he has been writing.
Before we parted ways, we spent the two days in Hue together, exploring by bicycle the first day, and by motorbike on the second. Day one was my absolute favorite, because after we visited the Forbidden Purple City and attended a traditional cultural performance of music, dance, and dragons at the Royal Theater in the morning, we took our bicycles for a ride around the Song Huong (Perfume River) all afternoon until dinnertime.
This ride was so incredible! We explored the many dirt roads and pathways that weave through many villages that exist just a kilometer or two outside the city center. I felt like we had traveled in time, as the contrast between the hustle and bustle of downtown Hue and these quiet country roads that were just outside of it was vast. All day, we rode around at a slow pace, stopping frequently to take photos, talk to locals, (especially the kids that came running after us all day shouting 'He-llooo! What is your name? Hell-ooo! Goodbye! What is your name? He-llooo!' It was so much fun and such a joy.
At one point we hit what we thought was the end of the road, and a pack of ten local Village-women approached us and surrounded Claude as soon as they realized that he could speak Vietnamese. They were trying to convince us to leave our bicycles behind and continue the path by foot, and either way, to take a ride to the other side of the river with them on one of their boats. They were smiling and giggling for the ten minutes we spent interacting with them as we sucked on sugarcane sticks that we had bought just a bit earlier down the road, and decided to take their advice.
We walked up a long trail of stairs to a Pagoda at the top. Beautiful. Many shrines created an enclosure around the most ornate and central shrine. Incense burned by the handful in sand-filled planters every way we turned, and little candles burned in subtle corners, as I marveled at the maintenance it must take to keep these alight, with not a Monk in sight. This Pagoda seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, and when we had cycled out to this location, I had felt like we were far from the regularly traveled path, and had not seen a single other tourist along the way. Nonetheless, there was a little station below the Pagoda by the river of people selling bottles of water and other drinks. This has been true all over Vietnam so far, and this feeling of big city against wandering to what feels like the middle of nowhere has been ever-penetrating.
When we descended the stairs back to our enthusiastic village-women, two of them loaded our two town-bikes into a long canoe, and helped us in. We had a slow ride across the river to the other side that lasted less than ten minutes, with Claude and I snapping pictures of ourselves, the bicycles, and the paddling ladies all packed into this small and narrow boat. We made it back to the other side, and tipped our dedicated escorts. We explored until the sun threatened to disappear, and came back to the city for dinner and sleep.
The next day we rented a motorbike and drove out to the Tomb of Tu Duc, and later to the Tomb of Minh Mang. These are both beautiful historical sites, with ruins of old buildings set in and around lakes and forests. Important to visit and experience, but I definitely prefer the bicycle wanderings of the previous afternoon in local villages! :)
That evening is when Claude and I parted ways at finding a Cyclo driver to take me to the Train Station. The driver spoke a little bit of English so he practiced by making conversation by chatting with me for the ten minute ride to the station. When I asked him the common Vietnamese question of 'Are you married?' he said "No, no... Cyclo Drivers do not make good husbands!"
After determining the correct line to get into for my train, and then figuring out which track to stand at (this information was gleaned through multiple conversations and gesturing from other waiting Vietnamese passengers and a conversation in English with some younger Vietnamese people who told me I was a 'true traveler' for taking the train when I could be flying in an airplane like most foreigners) I got on board.
There was further confusion over which compartment I was to get into, but finally I found it, and got on my top bunk in a 4-bed sleeper compartment, "soft berth" the highest luxury in Vietnamese train travel. I shared my compartment with three older Vietnamese guys, and I definitely felt my own strangeness in their eyes. It was a little uncomfortable as I could feel their watching eyes on me every time I climbed up or down from my bunk, but as the passage of time from that night to the following morning ensued, I became used to their stares, and even exchanged a few smiles with them, as well as one of them helping me to lower my bag from its high storage compartment. I slept quite well that night with the rocking of the train and its sounds that lulled me to sleep.
I had called 'The Real Darling Cafe' from my Vietnamese cell phone on the train the next morning, and reserved myself a room. When I got to the Hanoi train station, I was quickly identified as a customer by a local motorbike taxi driver, and with my large traveler backpack on my back, and my smaller backpack on my front, I hopped on the back of his bike and wrapped my arms around his waist, and he sped me to my hotel, which is a family-run place, where I got a sweet triple room for the price of a single, at $9 per night. This is where I have been staying before, between, and after multiple trips in and out of the city, and has been a great place to book trips, ask questions, and chart my course on an impending solo motorbike tour that I was planning in the NorthWest part of Vietnam, which I left for two days after arriving in Hanoi.
Final Days in Vietnam: Halong Bay and Hanoi
This morning my heart is light and happy. I am a day away from leaving this endlessly fascinating country of Vietnam, and have had five incredible weeks here. I finally opted for the air-conditioning ("Air-con" as they call it here) option in my room at the Real Darling Cafe on Hang Quat street in Hanoi for an extra $3 per night, as the temperature has risen in the past few days to a sweltering and humid 37 degrees Celcius! (That's 99 degrees Fahrenheit for all of you fellow-Americans!) I slept well, and was up without an alarm at 6:30am this morning much to my delight- the first time I have woken up naturally that early on this trip.
I have finally acclimated to the noise and chaos of the city, the sounds of scooters and cars honking relentlessly at all hours has officially become "normal" to me. Each day I wake up and wade through the sea of traffic on the streets that consists of locals and tourists on foot, Cyclo drivers, taxi drivers, motorbikes, and ladies peddling their goods from a pole balanced on their shoulders with two baskets hanging to the ground, shaking my head "no" to the hundreds of vendors, cyclo-drivers, and motorbike taxi drivers that offer their services to me all day everyday (as well as to every foreigner walking down the street). At this point, it feels so common that I smile and shake my head as an effortless reflex, but I do still occasionally wish that I had a sign on me that says 'I have been here for 5 weeks, and I prefer to walk- if I want a ride somewhere, I definitely know where to find you!' :)
I got back from my motorbike trip four days ago, and the following morning left with one of the two Swedish Daniels for Halong Bay (definitely click on this photo link!). We were picked up from our hotels at 7:45 in the morning, and taken for a four hour bus ride, stopping halfway for food and tourist markets. We were in a group of twelve, consisting of two Americans, a handful of English, and a handful of Aussies. When we arrived to our boat, we were served a tasty meal inside the dining cabin outside of the sun, and shown to our private rooms. The rest of the afternoon was spent on the top deck sunbathing or taking photos of the enormous and beautiful islands that are jutting out of the bay creating a beautiful smattering of scenery at all hours. Next a visit to some impressive caves. After that, we had a one hour period of getting to kayak around in the gorgeousness, and even took an un-approved swim from our kayaks. The water was the perfect temperature, and I only felt like I had truly arrived to the beautiful Bay once I was fully submerged.
That evening we had a tasty dinner with much variety, and shortly thereafter the crew started asking us if we were going to do Karaoke. It didn't take much time to convince me, and we had it up and running in the next ten minutes. Only four or five of the twelve of us were participating while the rest of the english and australians were on the top deck drinking and playing cards, but wow we had fun! We were a small and dedicated posse, singing classics in english to the backing track of Vietnamese-made tracks made quite possibly from a small Sony synthesizer or something like that. The tones were hilarious, the drum tracks silly, and the tempo of the songs were quite different from the originals in some cases. The volume was SO LOUD! This all made it even more fun, and our Vietnamese boat crew were looking on, smiling, laughing and applauding. We tried to convince them to join us, but they wouldn't, much to our dismay.
The next morning Daniel and I woke up a half an hour before breakfast for the only permitted time offered to us to swim. It was glorious to wake up, and dive straight into this cold water and swim until they called us in to eat. Breakfast, then more sunbathing on the top deck. Before you know it, it was 11:30am and we were back in Halong City. We were taken to a big lunch, and then got back on our bus for the 4 hour return to Hanoi.
We met up with the other Daniel for dinner, and had a late night that night, visiting various Bia Hois (a local cheap beer specialty in Hanoi served in outdoor areas), and eventually to a smoky euro-trash hookah bar that was not quite my cup of tea, but, certainly interesting!
The next morning, one Daniel left to go to Bangkok, and I met up with the other Daniel for a 'Daniel-tour' of Hanoi, which is through the eye of this skilled photographer, through less-visited streets that are more 'real-life' of the locals, and many lakes and special views. After a long morning of exploring and photo-taking, we had lunch at a street cafe, and had a super tasty meal, while being observed by the staff to see if we were eating it and using the condiments correctly. With a nod of approval from one of the servers, I knew that we were. :)
In the afternoon heat, we both returned to our respective hotels for resting, where I took a big long nap, and got my AC turned on. When I awoke it turned out that the Daniel that left for Bangkok missed his plane, so, I wound up having dinner with both both of them again at an excellent outdoor bbq-it-yourself place, after visiting a beautiful railway bridge with photographer Daniel for some sunset photos. This was also a highlight- seeing the real local life going on, we saw perhaps only one tourist (who we had also seen in Sapa!) but otherwise it was just us two. Vietnamese were out walking as the sun went down, locals selling food and drink on the bridge, older men doing exercising and stretches from the vantage point of the bridge- it was cool. We even got to see the 6 o clock evening train go by!
We had our excellent BBQ dinner, and I realized I was done for the night. I went back to my hotel, and went to bed early. We had had many late nights, lots of adventures, and I was starting to crash. I got great sleep last night, and as you know, awoke quite early this morning, and made my way to this internet cafe that is on a street-corner, down a long hallway that passes a small room that has a family hanging out in it, and up some stairs into this room full of fast computers, where I have spent the entire day writing these blogs!
Tomorrow, I board a bus to Vientiane, Laos, and quickly make my way to Luang Probang. It is wild to think that I have spent five weeks in this crazy country, and am on my way to an entirely new and different one! Wow!
I have finally acclimated to the noise and chaos of the city, the sounds of scooters and cars honking relentlessly at all hours has officially become "normal" to me. Each day I wake up and wade through the sea of traffic on the streets that consists of locals and tourists on foot, Cyclo drivers, taxi drivers, motorbikes, and ladies peddling their goods from a pole balanced on their shoulders with two baskets hanging to the ground, shaking my head "no" to the hundreds of vendors, cyclo-drivers, and motorbike taxi drivers that offer their services to me all day everyday (as well as to every foreigner walking down the street). At this point, it feels so common that I smile and shake my head as an effortless reflex, but I do still occasionally wish that I had a sign on me that says 'I have been here for 5 weeks, and I prefer to walk- if I want a ride somewhere, I definitely know where to find you!' :)
I got back from my motorbike trip four days ago, and the following morning left with one of the two Swedish Daniels for Halong Bay (definitely click on this photo link!). We were picked up from our hotels at 7:45 in the morning, and taken for a four hour bus ride, stopping halfway for food and tourist markets. We were in a group of twelve, consisting of two Americans, a handful of English, and a handful of Aussies. When we arrived to our boat, we were served a tasty meal inside the dining cabin outside of the sun, and shown to our private rooms. The rest of the afternoon was spent on the top deck sunbathing or taking photos of the enormous and beautiful islands that are jutting out of the bay creating a beautiful smattering of scenery at all hours. Next a visit to some impressive caves. After that, we had a one hour period of getting to kayak around in the gorgeousness, and even took an un-approved swim from our kayaks. The water was the perfect temperature, and I only felt like I had truly arrived to the beautiful Bay once I was fully submerged.
That evening we had a tasty dinner with much variety, and shortly thereafter the crew started asking us if we were going to do Karaoke. It didn't take much time to convince me, and we had it up and running in the next ten minutes. Only four or five of the twelve of us were participating while the rest of the english and australians were on the top deck drinking and playing cards, but wow we had fun! We were a small and dedicated posse, singing classics in english to the backing track of Vietnamese-made tracks made quite possibly from a small Sony synthesizer or something like that. The tones were hilarious, the drum tracks silly, and the tempo of the songs were quite different from the originals in some cases. The volume was SO LOUD! This all made it even more fun, and our Vietnamese boat crew were looking on, smiling, laughing and applauding. We tried to convince them to join us, but they wouldn't, much to our dismay.
The next morning Daniel and I woke up a half an hour before breakfast for the only permitted time offered to us to swim. It was glorious to wake up, and dive straight into this cold water and swim until they called us in to eat. Breakfast, then more sunbathing on the top deck. Before you know it, it was 11:30am and we were back in Halong City. We were taken to a big lunch, and then got back on our bus for the 4 hour return to Hanoi.
We met up with the other Daniel for dinner, and had a late night that night, visiting various Bia Hois (a local cheap beer specialty in Hanoi served in outdoor areas), and eventually to a smoky euro-trash hookah bar that was not quite my cup of tea, but, certainly interesting!
The next morning, one Daniel left to go to Bangkok, and I met up with the other Daniel for a 'Daniel-tour' of Hanoi, which is through the eye of this skilled photographer, through less-visited streets that are more 'real-life' of the locals, and many lakes and special views. After a long morning of exploring and photo-taking, we had lunch at a street cafe, and had a super tasty meal, while being observed by the staff to see if we were eating it and using the condiments correctly. With a nod of approval from one of the servers, I knew that we were. :)
In the afternoon heat, we both returned to our respective hotels for resting, where I took a big long nap, and got my AC turned on. When I awoke it turned out that the Daniel that left for Bangkok missed his plane, so, I wound up having dinner with both both of them again at an excellent outdoor bbq-it-yourself place, after visiting a beautiful railway bridge with photographer Daniel for some sunset photos. This was also a highlight- seeing the real local life going on, we saw perhaps only one tourist (who we had also seen in Sapa!) but otherwise it was just us two. Vietnamese were out walking as the sun went down, locals selling food and drink on the bridge, older men doing exercising and stretches from the vantage point of the bridge- it was cool. We even got to see the 6 o clock evening train go by!
We had our excellent BBQ dinner, and I realized I was done for the night. I went back to my hotel, and went to bed early. We had had many late nights, lots of adventures, and I was starting to crash. I got great sleep last night, and as you know, awoke quite early this morning, and made my way to this internet cafe that is on a street-corner, down a long hallway that passes a small room that has a family hanging out in it, and up some stairs into this room full of fast computers, where I have spent the entire day writing these blogs!
Tomorrow, I board a bus to Vientiane, Laos, and quickly make my way to Luang Probang. It is wild to think that I have spent five weeks in this crazy country, and am on my way to an entirely new and different one! Wow!
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