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!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
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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