Koh Tao means "Turtle Island" because once upon a time, a lot of sea turtles inhabited the surrounding waters. The island is located in the Gulf of Thailand which is part of the Pacific Ocean. We're 70 kilometers from shore. When you look out on the horizon, all you can see is water and far in the distance, some neighboring islands.
On Thursday, I initiated Gregg into the world of snorkelling. We were picked up and rode to the pier in the back of a truck with a Swiss couple and a Belgian girl. Mr. Swiss didn't speak English so well. On his stomach, he had the Chinese characters for "woman" and "strong". I asked if he chose that because his wife is a strong woman. He thought the first character means love. Maybe it does, but it was weird.
We were disappointed because we didn't see any reef sharks, but the variety of fish observed made up for it. If you've ever seen the movie "Finding Nemo", it's like being thrust into that world with a rainbow of fish swimming right before your eyes. Sometimes, schools of fish would swim inches from our goggles. Snorkelling in Thailand is unreal.
Our last stop was at three islands just northeast of Koh Tao. It's the only place in the world where three islands are connected by a single beach at low tide. They make you pay to even get on the islands. We snorkelled some more and had naps on the coral beach.
Friday, we slept in and then rented a motorbike to explore the island. In some places, giant boulders lie haphazardly with palm trees sprouting around them. After enjoying some air conditioning in good old 7-Eleven. we motored up a hill to the Happy Daze bar, a treehouse overlooking one of the southern bays. Everyone there was definitely in some kind of happy daze. They were all chilled out. We had an interesting conversation with a couple of birds. They could say, "Hello, Darling!" "How are you?" "I can fly!" "Bye Bye". We felt moderately crazy talking to birds, but it was cool. A poor monkey on a chain kept pacing while one of his owners was cleaning a bong. We climbed up a series of ladders to the top deck where we could look out over the bay. Beautiful. The rest of the day, we bummed around, bought board shorts, and sat at the beach.
Today, we went SCUBA DIVING! It seems so surreal. I still can't fathom what an awesome experience it was. Since we are going back to Canada and are unsure of further opportunities, we opted to do the one day Discover Scuba program and hope to get certified some other vacation. A super guy named David was our personal instructor for the day. He outfitted us and told us what to do. Out on the boat, we suited up with wetsuits, fins, inflatable vests, goggles, weight belts, and an air tank - the whole nine yards. It's pretty heavy. We stepped out into the beautiful blue water and practiced some skills on shore at Mango Bay. Then we followed him deeper into the ocean. We both experienced some difficulty learning to control our buoyancy and a few times floated to the surface like a balloon in the sky. The visibility wasn't the best, but the exhilaration of being underwater and seeing a few fish was enough. We thought we'd only been under a few minutes, but suddenly the 35 minutes of our first dive was up. Afterwards, I was so happy I was grinning like an idiot. Gregg said it looked like I was posing for a school photo. He was happy too.
A little break for pineapple, coffee and cookies, and then dive number two beside the three islands to an area called the Japanese garden. Gregg lost his weight belt and couldn't descend so David had to go look for it. We followed the rope of the anchor to the bottom and wandered around the coral garden. I have a burn on my leg after a run in with our motorcycle in Ninh Binh. Shiny cleaner fish kept latching on to it. I was fish food. We saw a huge puffy starfish and other fish that we hadn't seen when snorkelling. Our greatest depth was only about six meters, but at that depth, we could already feel a little bit of the ocean's pressure. It's hard to describe scuba diving unless you're talking to someone who's done it. It's one of the coolest things we've ever done. And we definitely want to do it again.
Tomorrow, we head to Koh Phangan to check out the remnants of the last full moon party and to bum around on swimming beaches. And Grant, if you're not reading this, you're in trouble. You better post a comment.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Paradise
The last days of Nam went quite smoothly. We spent the second day at the beach. A long white sand beach stretches along the ocean about five kilometers from Hoi An. We rented bicycles for the journey. The bicycles were not the greatest. One gear and one speed: excruciatingly slow. As we progressed further south in Vietnam, cars became rarer and bicycles more common. It was our first beach day of the trip and we enjoyed sitting under the umbrellas and then stretching out on the sand to work on our sunburns. It was great.
Except for the vendors. Women in jackets and hats to prevent sun exposure prowl the beach looking for customers. Pedicures, massages, fruit, postcards, frisbees and cigarettes are all available from their baskets. They each know enough English to sell their goods. Some have picked up some memorable lines along the way. "Don't worry. Be happy." "Open your heart and your wallet." "Don't be lazy - be crazy." They sometimes come with sob stories of how no one has bought anything from them today and make you feel guilty. Others just won't leave, but will sit down and look at you as they go through a list of what they have available.
We weren't safe from the vendors even as we ate dinner at a restaurant. A little boy claiming to be five came up to our table with packages of postcards and a handful of necklaces. He said it was happy hour and he'd give us good deals. We repeatedly said no, but then Gregg asked how much the necklaces were. The boy dug one out and started bargaining. Gregg said no, and the boy started to mutter under his breath. "You ask how much and you not buy?" he cried as if we had entered into some kind of contract. He dropped his price by two thirds. Gregg bought it. There was a man on a motorcycle waiting for the boy. We were afraid if we didn't buy, the boy might get whupped. I've never seen such a salesman.
Our third day in Hoi An, we took a tour of the My (pronounced mee) Son ruins and were reunited with our slow boat friend, Sarah. These ruins were built by the Cham people and are unique in Vietnam because they are Hindu. Some date back to the fifth century, but most are only a thousand years old. Red bricks are piled into towers and temples. They didn't use traditional mortar and it's still a mystery what they used to stick the bricks together. We saw a fake Cham song and dance show and then wandered around the ruins. It really was fascinating. We took a boat back to Hoi An - another boat ride with Sarah. It seemed fitting.
When we returned to town, Gregg slept and enjoyed our air conditioned room while I toured around town. Hoi An is famous for its old buildings and I saw what I could without paying for a ticket. One of the interesting sites is an old Japanese covered bridge. It's quite ornate and pink in color.
Another day at the beach and this time, it rained so we sat under our umbrellas gazing at the ominous black clouds overhead.
Tuesday, we flew from Danang to Bangkok. Danang airport was quite an experience. It's small. I think there's only one international flight a day. The immigration people had never heard of Na Meo, the border we crossed at. Since we wanted to pay the departure tax in Vietnamese currency instead of USD, they gave us a horrible exchange rate. Fighter jets were landing and taking off of the runway with colorful parachutes to slow them down. Our plane was small - like 60 passengers. To board, we took a bus across the tarmac and then climbed up some stairs. Soon, we were out of Vietnam.
And back in the land of Smiles. Bangkok didn't seem quite so hot as it did a month ago. For once, our bags were first off the carousel. To be different and cheaper, we walked to the train station and took a train into town . . . for the astronomical sum of 5 baht each. It was Gregg's first real train ride. It was hot and the wooden seats not too comfortable.
We booked tickets to Chumpon at the main train station and killed time by writing postcards and eating at Dairy Queen and KFC. It felt so good to be in a country with 7-Eleven again and familiar Western fastfood (as gross as it may be).
We slept on two upper bunks on the train. Two straps were secured to the ceiling to prevent us from rolling off. It was the most comfortable transportation that we had taken. Despite locals getting drunk and laughing, we fell asleep and I woke up at 3:30 to make sure we didn't miss our stop. The train was late so we didn't arrive until 4:30. As soon as we set foot in the station, we were directed to a table to wait for a ride from the boat people. We hopped into the back of a truck and were left at a restaurant where I slept with my head on a table for a few hours. Another bus picked us up took us to the boat to Koh Tao. I slept on the boat too.
Koh Tao is a mountainous island, only 21 km squared in area. The water is breathtakingly blue and clear. Even at the pier in the midst of the boat, you can see the bottom of the ocean and the fish that live there. Palm trees form forests on the hills. We were surprised to find it so developed with tons of restaurants and bars and convenience stores. This is the diving island where people flock to get their scuba certification, which is a very tempting idea, but in all likelihood, when could I use it again? To help Dad fix the pump on the dugout? When you're enrolled in a course, you kept cheap or free accomodation. We were shown to some bungalows by the ocean, but the trashy grounds and poor beachfront deterred us. We walked a long time and ended up renting a different trashy bungalow in a better location. The beach is just across the path and cold drinks are next door. We just chilled on the beach, which is too shallow to swim, but perfect for snorkelling with the abundant coral. The water is so warm. Sitting in the ocean is like taking a bath. So relaxing. No one tried to sell us a thing. We spent the evening wandering around. During supper, we tried to watch Ray, but the copy was messed up. There were background sounds and the soundtrack, but no dialogue. It doesn't work to read and eat. They bought another disk, but the same thing happened. We ended up watching Shark Tale. To pick a movie, they didn't bring out a catalogue, but instead a stack of little posters for us to sift through.
Today, we went snorkelling. But I'm tired of writing and I'll tell you about that later. But it was beautiful and awesome and you should all be jealous that you're not here with us.
Except for the vendors. Women in jackets and hats to prevent sun exposure prowl the beach looking for customers. Pedicures, massages, fruit, postcards, frisbees and cigarettes are all available from their baskets. They each know enough English to sell their goods. Some have picked up some memorable lines along the way. "Don't worry. Be happy." "Open your heart and your wallet." "Don't be lazy - be crazy." They sometimes come with sob stories of how no one has bought anything from them today and make you feel guilty. Others just won't leave, but will sit down and look at you as they go through a list of what they have available.
We weren't safe from the vendors even as we ate dinner at a restaurant. A little boy claiming to be five came up to our table with packages of postcards and a handful of necklaces. He said it was happy hour and he'd give us good deals. We repeatedly said no, but then Gregg asked how much the necklaces were. The boy dug one out and started bargaining. Gregg said no, and the boy started to mutter under his breath. "You ask how much and you not buy?" he cried as if we had entered into some kind of contract. He dropped his price by two thirds. Gregg bought it. There was a man on a motorcycle waiting for the boy. We were afraid if we didn't buy, the boy might get whupped. I've never seen such a salesman.
Our third day in Hoi An, we took a tour of the My (pronounced mee) Son ruins and were reunited with our slow boat friend, Sarah. These ruins were built by the Cham people and are unique in Vietnam because they are Hindu. Some date back to the fifth century, but most are only a thousand years old. Red bricks are piled into towers and temples. They didn't use traditional mortar and it's still a mystery what they used to stick the bricks together. We saw a fake Cham song and dance show and then wandered around the ruins. It really was fascinating. We took a boat back to Hoi An - another boat ride with Sarah. It seemed fitting.
When we returned to town, Gregg slept and enjoyed our air conditioned room while I toured around town. Hoi An is famous for its old buildings and I saw what I could without paying for a ticket. One of the interesting sites is an old Japanese covered bridge. It's quite ornate and pink in color.
Another day at the beach and this time, it rained so we sat under our umbrellas gazing at the ominous black clouds overhead.
Tuesday, we flew from Danang to Bangkok. Danang airport was quite an experience. It's small. I think there's only one international flight a day. The immigration people had never heard of Na Meo, the border we crossed at. Since we wanted to pay the departure tax in Vietnamese currency instead of USD, they gave us a horrible exchange rate. Fighter jets were landing and taking off of the runway with colorful parachutes to slow them down. Our plane was small - like 60 passengers. To board, we took a bus across the tarmac and then climbed up some stairs. Soon, we were out of Vietnam.
And back in the land of Smiles. Bangkok didn't seem quite so hot as it did a month ago. For once, our bags were first off the carousel. To be different and cheaper, we walked to the train station and took a train into town . . . for the astronomical sum of 5 baht each. It was Gregg's first real train ride. It was hot and the wooden seats not too comfortable.
We booked tickets to Chumpon at the main train station and killed time by writing postcards and eating at Dairy Queen and KFC. It felt so good to be in a country with 7-Eleven again and familiar Western fastfood (as gross as it may be).
We slept on two upper bunks on the train. Two straps were secured to the ceiling to prevent us from rolling off. It was the most comfortable transportation that we had taken. Despite locals getting drunk and laughing, we fell asleep and I woke up at 3:30 to make sure we didn't miss our stop. The train was late so we didn't arrive until 4:30. As soon as we set foot in the station, we were directed to a table to wait for a ride from the boat people. We hopped into the back of a truck and were left at a restaurant where I slept with my head on a table for a few hours. Another bus picked us up took us to the boat to Koh Tao. I slept on the boat too.
Koh Tao is a mountainous island, only 21 km squared in area. The water is breathtakingly blue and clear. Even at the pier in the midst of the boat, you can see the bottom of the ocean and the fish that live there. Palm trees form forests on the hills. We were surprised to find it so developed with tons of restaurants and bars and convenience stores. This is the diving island where people flock to get their scuba certification, which is a very tempting idea, but in all likelihood, when could I use it again? To help Dad fix the pump on the dugout? When you're enrolled in a course, you kept cheap or free accomodation. We were shown to some bungalows by the ocean, but the trashy grounds and poor beachfront deterred us. We walked a long time and ended up renting a different trashy bungalow in a better location. The beach is just across the path and cold drinks are next door. We just chilled on the beach, which is too shallow to swim, but perfect for snorkelling with the abundant coral. The water is so warm. Sitting in the ocean is like taking a bath. So relaxing. No one tried to sell us a thing. We spent the evening wandering around. During supper, we tried to watch Ray, but the copy was messed up. There were background sounds and the soundtrack, but no dialogue. It doesn't work to read and eat. They bought another disk, but the same thing happened. We ended up watching Shark Tale. To pick a movie, they didn't bring out a catalogue, but instead a stack of little posters for us to sift through.
Today, we went snorkelling. But I'm tired of writing and I'll tell you about that later. But it was beautiful and awesome and you should all be jealous that you're not here with us.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Stalker Cyclos
The disparity between our tans is lessening. Gregg's reached a fair level of brownness and is no longer glowing white. His arms and stomach are a lot darker than mine. I've never been a good tanner though. Gregg claims I'm getting whiter as the trip goes on.
A couple of interesting things I omitted from previous posts: While returning from our 14 KM trek on Cat Ba Island, a young boy and girl met us on the road with a large machete. As I passed them, the boy hit my water bottle with the large blade that was the length of his arm. All he wanted was water, and I wasn't about to refuse a small boy with a big knife.
Also, we saw some interesting things when we were cruising on our motorbike in Ninh Binh. We noticed a lot of paper blowing on the street in the midst of the traffic. It was fake US dollar bills and we realized they were coming from a van at the front of a procession. I think it may have been a funeral. On another road, we had to drive over a bunch of harvested barley laid out to dry on the road. People were raking it to speed up the process and didn't seem to mind us driving through. We also saw sidewalks and other available pieces of concrete used in similar fashion.
When we climbed onto the tourist bus bound for Hue, we discovered that it wasn't much of a tourist bus with the seats mainly occupied by Vietnamese. We woke up a couple of foreign guys and made them share their seats. Gregg's new buddy was a guy from Montreal with a broken arm while I was stuck with a tall German with limited English who intends to study human rights in Bangkok. The seats had no leg room even for my rather short legs. I tried to sleep with them slid under the seat in front of me, but the occupant of that seat would periodically stretch and push his seat further back, whacking my knee with molded plastic. Gregg had even less room than I did. We managed to sleep by twisting our bodies and slinging our legs into the aisle. It was a long thirteen hour bus trip. We did stop to go to the bathroom. Gregg made use of a garden while the girls were relegated to concrete stalls with drains on the floor and no doors.
When we woke up in Hue and unloaded the backpacks from the bus, mine was sopping wet with water running out of the side pockets and contributed to my poor mental state after the lengthy bus ride. Gregg kept his cool once again. After being swarmed by guys advertising their hotels, we were put in cyclos and taken to a brand new hotel. The promised room was not available, but we managed to get a room with AC, fridge, TV, hot water for only 7 USD. The hotel had only been open for two and a half months. It was pretty nice.
In the heart of old Hue, there is a crumbling old citadel that used to be home to the king. Inside a moat, there is a massive brick wall with an enormous flagstaff where the yellow starred red flag of Vietnam flies. Inside the brick wall is another moat and another wall. This was the imperial part of the citadel. And further inside was the Forbidden Purple city where only the royalty were allowed. Much of it was destroyed in the American war, but a few buildings still exist. Stairs and ruins remain of what used to be a spectactular sight.
Hue is a lot more laid back than Hanoi, but still the motorbike drivers are persistent. Even more persistent are the cyclo drivers who would pedal behind us in a stalkerish fashion. When Gregg wasn't with me, they'd even touch me to try get my attention, convinced that I always needed a ride. At the market, we tried to look at some shoes. I barely picked up a pair and a woman was making me try them on while another was poking my side and saying "Madame, Madame" and thrusting another pair in my face. The aisle was small and other shoppers were running into me. We left quite quickly.
May 19 is Ho Chi Minh's birthday. He would have been 115 this year and to celebrate this day, we got up insanely early for a tour of the DMZ - the demilitarized zone that once separated North and South Vietnam. Neither Gregg nor I are scholars on the war or Vietnamese history, but we're learning a little. The Geneva Agreements of 1954 divided the country in half at about the 17th parallel. For five kilometers on either side of a river, it was considered the DMZ. If part of a family was on the other side of the river when the division took effect, they did not see the rest of their family for twenty years. We stopped at this river and took some pictures. We drove for hours on a bus to a few sites important to the war. There was "Rockpile" - a mountain that the US used as a lookout and to shoot long range artillery. There was no way up there - everything was airlifted. We also saw villages belonging to the "ethnic minority". This people group lives in stilt houses and historically had no family name. Because they respected Ho Chi Minh so much, they all took on the surname "Ho". We stopped at a bridge along one of the five branches of the Ho Chi Minh trail which the North Vietnamese used to transport goods to their forces fighting in the south. The bridge was funded by the Cubans. We visited Khe Sanh base along highway nine that connects Vietnam, Laos and Thailand. The Americans had several bases along this route. On display were some helicopters and pieces of smashed up plane. Inside the museum were homemade weapons that the tribal people made to fight the Americans and pictures of female militia sharpening their weapons. Most disturbing were the pictures of the American soldiers as they tried to flee the base as the North Vietnamese "liberated" it. It seemed like it was intense battle and we intend to read up more on it. I can't imagine the hell that the soldiers on both sides went through.
The day was mainly spent driving. The roads are agonizingly slow. The speed limit on the nicest roads in the country is a mere 35 - 50 kilometers . The bus drivers have a system of signals that they wave to each other in meeting to tell if cops are on patrol or not. We had a learner driver who periodically stalled the bus and often would lurch to a stop. He took no risks as far as speed went so we watched buses and buses pass us as we lost feeling from sitting so long.
The absolute highlight of the day was visiting the Vinh Moc tunnels beside the South China Sea. An entire village of about 300 people lived underground from 1961 - 1964. It took 18 000 days of labor to chisel out the 6000 metric tonnes of rock to form the three layers of tunnels. To hide the digging, they would bury the rock under the beach. Gregg thinks the layers of tunnels were 15m, 23m, and 35m deep. Entire families lived in carved out rooms the size of closets and at least 17 children were born underground during that time. The tunnels averaged about 5 feet in height and about 3 feet wide. The entrance to the bomb shelter was a slide in order to save time. The tunnels were strategic for shipping stuff further south. Goods were smuggled out to an island 28 km away and then taken south. When outside the tunnels, the people walked in trenches to avoid being seen.
Banners were hung all over Hue to celebrate Ho Chi's birthday. The bridge was lit up with alternating colors. It was like slo-mo fire works. We ate at a family run restaurant where there was a party going on in the back. Men were singing and drinking to celebrate the occasion. We sat long after we finished eating just to enjoy the party.
Today we made yet another bus journey. Our trip is winding down and we know we don't have too many bus journeys left. Between Hue and Danang, there is a range of mountains along the sea. Our bus wound its way up steep switch backs, quickly gaining impressive elevation. At the top of the pass, we got out to admire the view. The ocean was far below us with sandy beaches stretching for miles and fading into the mist of the horizon. From both sides of the pass, we could see the coast. On a clear day, you could see a long ways.
We drove through Danang. We'll return there on Tuesday to catch a flight to Bangkok. The city itself doesn't have much to offer, but it was interesting to see city built on sand. Sand was everywhere and it looked like the houses were simply built on it.
South of Danang, we stopped at the Marble Mountains. The mountains themselves aren't overly impressive, but inside they are amazing. We wandered through a large cave with a cathedral roof. A hole in the roof let brilliant beams of light in. It looked like what I imagine Jesus' baptism did when God spoke from heaven. The impression was marred by the idol decorated with Christmas lights. We climbed up a series of steep ladders to what we thought would be a lookout over the ocean, but found only another mountain and the roofs of shantytown instead.
In the afternoon, we arrived in Hoi An, famed for its old city and overabundance of tailor shops. We decided to forego quality in favor of economy and have been fitted for some clothing. I hope it turns out. We'll have a fitting after we spend the day at the beach. Hopefully we can sleep in.
A couple of interesting things I omitted from previous posts: While returning from our 14 KM trek on Cat Ba Island, a young boy and girl met us on the road with a large machete. As I passed them, the boy hit my water bottle with the large blade that was the length of his arm. All he wanted was water, and I wasn't about to refuse a small boy with a big knife.
Also, we saw some interesting things when we were cruising on our motorbike in Ninh Binh. We noticed a lot of paper blowing on the street in the midst of the traffic. It was fake US dollar bills and we realized they were coming from a van at the front of a procession. I think it may have been a funeral. On another road, we had to drive over a bunch of harvested barley laid out to dry on the road. People were raking it to speed up the process and didn't seem to mind us driving through. We also saw sidewalks and other available pieces of concrete used in similar fashion.
When we climbed onto the tourist bus bound for Hue, we discovered that it wasn't much of a tourist bus with the seats mainly occupied by Vietnamese. We woke up a couple of foreign guys and made them share their seats. Gregg's new buddy was a guy from Montreal with a broken arm while I was stuck with a tall German with limited English who intends to study human rights in Bangkok. The seats had no leg room even for my rather short legs. I tried to sleep with them slid under the seat in front of me, but the occupant of that seat would periodically stretch and push his seat further back, whacking my knee with molded plastic. Gregg had even less room than I did. We managed to sleep by twisting our bodies and slinging our legs into the aisle. It was a long thirteen hour bus trip. We did stop to go to the bathroom. Gregg made use of a garden while the girls were relegated to concrete stalls with drains on the floor and no doors.
When we woke up in Hue and unloaded the backpacks from the bus, mine was sopping wet with water running out of the side pockets and contributed to my poor mental state after the lengthy bus ride. Gregg kept his cool once again. After being swarmed by guys advertising their hotels, we were put in cyclos and taken to a brand new hotel. The promised room was not available, but we managed to get a room with AC, fridge, TV, hot water for only 7 USD. The hotel had only been open for two and a half months. It was pretty nice.
In the heart of old Hue, there is a crumbling old citadel that used to be home to the king. Inside a moat, there is a massive brick wall with an enormous flagstaff where the yellow starred red flag of Vietnam flies. Inside the brick wall is another moat and another wall. This was the imperial part of the citadel. And further inside was the Forbidden Purple city where only the royalty were allowed. Much of it was destroyed in the American war, but a few buildings still exist. Stairs and ruins remain of what used to be a spectactular sight.
Hue is a lot more laid back than Hanoi, but still the motorbike drivers are persistent. Even more persistent are the cyclo drivers who would pedal behind us in a stalkerish fashion. When Gregg wasn't with me, they'd even touch me to try get my attention, convinced that I always needed a ride. At the market, we tried to look at some shoes. I barely picked up a pair and a woman was making me try them on while another was poking my side and saying "Madame, Madame" and thrusting another pair in my face. The aisle was small and other shoppers were running into me. We left quite quickly.
May 19 is Ho Chi Minh's birthday. He would have been 115 this year and to celebrate this day, we got up insanely early for a tour of the DMZ - the demilitarized zone that once separated North and South Vietnam. Neither Gregg nor I are scholars on the war or Vietnamese history, but we're learning a little. The Geneva Agreements of 1954 divided the country in half at about the 17th parallel. For five kilometers on either side of a river, it was considered the DMZ. If part of a family was on the other side of the river when the division took effect, they did not see the rest of their family for twenty years. We stopped at this river and took some pictures. We drove for hours on a bus to a few sites important to the war. There was "Rockpile" - a mountain that the US used as a lookout and to shoot long range artillery. There was no way up there - everything was airlifted. We also saw villages belonging to the "ethnic minority". This people group lives in stilt houses and historically had no family name. Because they respected Ho Chi Minh so much, they all took on the surname "Ho". We stopped at a bridge along one of the five branches of the Ho Chi Minh trail which the North Vietnamese used to transport goods to their forces fighting in the south. The bridge was funded by the Cubans. We visited Khe Sanh base along highway nine that connects Vietnam, Laos and Thailand. The Americans had several bases along this route. On display were some helicopters and pieces of smashed up plane. Inside the museum were homemade weapons that the tribal people made to fight the Americans and pictures of female militia sharpening their weapons. Most disturbing were the pictures of the American soldiers as they tried to flee the base as the North Vietnamese "liberated" it. It seemed like it was intense battle and we intend to read up more on it. I can't imagine the hell that the soldiers on both sides went through.
The day was mainly spent driving. The roads are agonizingly slow. The speed limit on the nicest roads in the country is a mere 35 - 50 kilometers . The bus drivers have a system of signals that they wave to each other in meeting to tell if cops are on patrol or not. We had a learner driver who periodically stalled the bus and often would lurch to a stop. He took no risks as far as speed went so we watched buses and buses pass us as we lost feeling from sitting so long.
The absolute highlight of the day was visiting the Vinh Moc tunnels beside the South China Sea. An entire village of about 300 people lived underground from 1961 - 1964. It took 18 000 days of labor to chisel out the 6000 metric tonnes of rock to form the three layers of tunnels. To hide the digging, they would bury the rock under the beach. Gregg thinks the layers of tunnels were 15m, 23m, and 35m deep. Entire families lived in carved out rooms the size of closets and at least 17 children were born underground during that time. The tunnels averaged about 5 feet in height and about 3 feet wide. The entrance to the bomb shelter was a slide in order to save time. The tunnels were strategic for shipping stuff further south. Goods were smuggled out to an island 28 km away and then taken south. When outside the tunnels, the people walked in trenches to avoid being seen.
Banners were hung all over Hue to celebrate Ho Chi's birthday. The bridge was lit up with alternating colors. It was like slo-mo fire works. We ate at a family run restaurant where there was a party going on in the back. Men were singing and drinking to celebrate the occasion. We sat long after we finished eating just to enjoy the party.
Today we made yet another bus journey. Our trip is winding down and we know we don't have too many bus journeys left. Between Hue and Danang, there is a range of mountains along the sea. Our bus wound its way up steep switch backs, quickly gaining impressive elevation. At the top of the pass, we got out to admire the view. The ocean was far below us with sandy beaches stretching for miles and fading into the mist of the horizon. From both sides of the pass, we could see the coast. On a clear day, you could see a long ways.
We drove through Danang. We'll return there on Tuesday to catch a flight to Bangkok. The city itself doesn't have much to offer, but it was interesting to see city built on sand. Sand was everywhere and it looked like the houses were simply built on it.
South of Danang, we stopped at the Marble Mountains. The mountains themselves aren't overly impressive, but inside they are amazing. We wandered through a large cave with a cathedral roof. A hole in the roof let brilliant beams of light in. It looked like what I imagine Jesus' baptism did when God spoke from heaven. The impression was marred by the idol decorated with Christmas lights. We climbed up a series of steep ladders to what we thought would be a lookout over the ocean, but found only another mountain and the roofs of shantytown instead.
In the afternoon, we arrived in Hoi An, famed for its old city and overabundance of tailor shops. We decided to forego quality in favor of economy and have been fitted for some clothing. I hope it turns out. We'll have a fitting after we spend the day at the beach. Hopefully we can sleep in.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Ninh Binh
We are sitting in an internet cafe in a city called Ninh Binh where there are six year old boys smoking a cigarette on a nearby computer. Along with the Canadian couple beside us, we are a little shocked. I guess we shouldn't be. Anything can happen in Asia.
Our last day in Hanoi we did very little, but anticipate leaving. The heat and the vendors had sucked all the ambition out of us. It was 32 degrees at 10 AM so it probably hit 40 that day. After the humid heat we're experiencing, the hottest Saskatchewan day will seem almost pleasant. We walked around and bought some souvenirs and ate lunch at our standard semi-Western establishment. To escape the heat and stop walking, I got the idea we should ride a bus for a while and see some more of the city. The bus we chose ended up being supremely crowded and I became quite conscious of the stench of my unwashed clothes. I feel sorry for the people who were next to me. They probably think all Westerners stink. The great idea turned into the stupidest idea ever as the route was not scenic or interesting. We disembarked and boarded a bus with the same number going in the other direction, figuring it would return us to our origin. Wrong. We ended up stopped out by a highway and had to walk back to Hoan Kiem Lake and the Old Quarter. We definitely put on enough miles without really seeing or doing anything. We did run into some more people from the slow boat trip to LP Bang.
Despite being told that the open bus system is for the "Khao Sahn Road I hate Asians crowd", we opted to take a ride on this system. It's a cheaper ticket where people can get off and on as they please - as long as they don't mind being ambushed by the cafes where they are dropped off. We chose this instead of the normal bus because it picked us up at our hotel. It was late, but we did make it to the city of Ninh Binh before it was too late. And we did stay at the hotel we were dropped off at. I feel a little like a sellout.
Ninh Binh is about 90 km south of Hanoi on the road to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City). There are a higher percentage of Christians here and a lot more churches so some people call it Vietnam's Bible belt. In all the Asian countries, Vietnam is only second to the Philippines for number of Catholics. Ninh Binh itself is rather boring, just a small city on the road. It's the attractions nearby that generate the tourism here.
We rented a motorbike with no helmets and took off with a map provided by our hotel. To avoid traffic, the owner had pointed out a route for us to take. The map is not to scale and quite confusing so we found ourselves on a tiny trail through the Vietnamese suburbs. Eventually, we gave up on his directions and found our way using the main road full of buses, bicycles, trucks and plenty of honking horns. We found our destination: Tam Coc.
Tam Coc is best described as Halong Bay on the rice patties. Big cliffs and rocks with fields at their bases. For a fee, we were toured around the area via a rowboat on the river. At a bridge, we stopped to pick up the rower's wife and she assisted him with one paddle on the side. Some rowers were rowing with their feet. A good majority of the rowers are women with their conical hats. The water was first in a canal but then opened up onto a plain with reeds growing on either side. We were rowed through three cave/tunnels through the rock. It was very beautiful.
But then we stopped. A lady rowed up with a boat full of drinks and snacks. I was hungry so I bought some peanut rice cracker things and tried to share them with the rowers. They refused. Then the vendor lady insisted we buy drinks for the rowers - not just water, but energy drinks and pop. I offered them some of my water, but they refused. It was a little confusing, but eventually we left.
And then the rower woman pulled out her embroidery and started poking me, "Madame, Madame". I wasn't interested and tried to ignore her so I could enjoy the return trip. But then she pulled out a runner . . . embroidered in Norwegian hardanger? It was so bizarre. It looked exactly like the stitching my aunt had taught me with cut out squares and other patterns. I decided to buy two, but didn't have the correct change. She didn't have enough change. We rowed over to another boat where a woman produced some old looking bills. Red alert - if the bills look a little old, no one will take them from you. Don't accept them from someone else. I refused the bills. Eventually she accepted the change I did have, but frowned upon receiving my own old bills. The rest of the trip, she kept shouting and talking to the other boats. I think she was pretty angry. They sped up their rowing. I think they wanted to get rid of us.
After meandering through a village with small streets lined with rock walls and houses at the street's edge, we had lunch and I had a nap. Then we decided to try our luck with the map again and try to find a boat village. Stupidly, we took the advice of the hotel owner and started down a gravel road by the river. It didn't look too far on the map. Wrong again. After an hour of a bumpy and dusty cattle trail, Gregg was so sick of driving that we tried to find the road. We had ice cream and then tried again to find the village. No luck. We did see some boats and thought that was enough. We found an ancient capital and saw some old stuff, but after a while, a person tires of seeing old stuff. Old woman would come and say hello and introduce themselves in a very friendly manner. Then they would ask us to buy water. I'm definitely tired of being seen as a walking ATM.
On the way back to Ninh Binh, the redness of Gregg's sunburn became quite apparent. We stopped so he could apply sunscreen. Soon he had an audience of a dozen people. One guy told him to wear a long sleeve shirt. Good advice.
Since the train was full, we're headed on a bus to Hue tonight. Hopefully we can get some clothes washed there.
Our last day in Hanoi we did very little, but anticipate leaving. The heat and the vendors had sucked all the ambition out of us. It was 32 degrees at 10 AM so it probably hit 40 that day. After the humid heat we're experiencing, the hottest Saskatchewan day will seem almost pleasant. We walked around and bought some souvenirs and ate lunch at our standard semi-Western establishment. To escape the heat and stop walking, I got the idea we should ride a bus for a while and see some more of the city. The bus we chose ended up being supremely crowded and I became quite conscious of the stench of my unwashed clothes. I feel sorry for the people who were next to me. They probably think all Westerners stink. The great idea turned into the stupidest idea ever as the route was not scenic or interesting. We disembarked and boarded a bus with the same number going in the other direction, figuring it would return us to our origin. Wrong. We ended up stopped out by a highway and had to walk back to Hoan Kiem Lake and the Old Quarter. We definitely put on enough miles without really seeing or doing anything. We did run into some more people from the slow boat trip to LP Bang.
Despite being told that the open bus system is for the "Khao Sahn Road I hate Asians crowd", we opted to take a ride on this system. It's a cheaper ticket where people can get off and on as they please - as long as they don't mind being ambushed by the cafes where they are dropped off. We chose this instead of the normal bus because it picked us up at our hotel. It was late, but we did make it to the city of Ninh Binh before it was too late. And we did stay at the hotel we were dropped off at. I feel a little like a sellout.
Ninh Binh is about 90 km south of Hanoi on the road to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City). There are a higher percentage of Christians here and a lot more churches so some people call it Vietnam's Bible belt. In all the Asian countries, Vietnam is only second to the Philippines for number of Catholics. Ninh Binh itself is rather boring, just a small city on the road. It's the attractions nearby that generate the tourism here.
We rented a motorbike with no helmets and took off with a map provided by our hotel. To avoid traffic, the owner had pointed out a route for us to take. The map is not to scale and quite confusing so we found ourselves on a tiny trail through the Vietnamese suburbs. Eventually, we gave up on his directions and found our way using the main road full of buses, bicycles, trucks and plenty of honking horns. We found our destination: Tam Coc.
Tam Coc is best described as Halong Bay on the rice patties. Big cliffs and rocks with fields at their bases. For a fee, we were toured around the area via a rowboat on the river. At a bridge, we stopped to pick up the rower's wife and she assisted him with one paddle on the side. Some rowers were rowing with their feet. A good majority of the rowers are women with their conical hats. The water was first in a canal but then opened up onto a plain with reeds growing on either side. We were rowed through three cave/tunnels through the rock. It was very beautiful.
But then we stopped. A lady rowed up with a boat full of drinks and snacks. I was hungry so I bought some peanut rice cracker things and tried to share them with the rowers. They refused. Then the vendor lady insisted we buy drinks for the rowers - not just water, but energy drinks and pop. I offered them some of my water, but they refused. It was a little confusing, but eventually we left.
And then the rower woman pulled out her embroidery and started poking me, "Madame, Madame". I wasn't interested and tried to ignore her so I could enjoy the return trip. But then she pulled out a runner . . . embroidered in Norwegian hardanger? It was so bizarre. It looked exactly like the stitching my aunt had taught me with cut out squares and other patterns. I decided to buy two, but didn't have the correct change. She didn't have enough change. We rowed over to another boat where a woman produced some old looking bills. Red alert - if the bills look a little old, no one will take them from you. Don't accept them from someone else. I refused the bills. Eventually she accepted the change I did have, but frowned upon receiving my own old bills. The rest of the trip, she kept shouting and talking to the other boats. I think she was pretty angry. They sped up their rowing. I think they wanted to get rid of us.
After meandering through a village with small streets lined with rock walls and houses at the street's edge, we had lunch and I had a nap. Then we decided to try our luck with the map again and try to find a boat village. Stupidly, we took the advice of the hotel owner and started down a gravel road by the river. It didn't look too far on the map. Wrong again. After an hour of a bumpy and dusty cattle trail, Gregg was so sick of driving that we tried to find the road. We had ice cream and then tried again to find the village. No luck. We did see some boats and thought that was enough. We found an ancient capital and saw some old stuff, but after a while, a person tires of seeing old stuff. Old woman would come and say hello and introduce themselves in a very friendly manner. Then they would ask us to buy water. I'm definitely tired of being seen as a walking ATM.
On the way back to Ninh Binh, the redness of Gregg's sunburn became quite apparent. We stopped so he could apply sunscreen. Soon he had an audience of a dozen people. One guy told him to wear a long sleeve shirt. Good advice.
Since the train was full, we're headed on a bus to Hue tonight. Hopefully we can get some clothes washed there.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Giant Jellyfish
Hanoi is not a quiet place. Motorcycles buzz by in crazier ways than in Taiwan. Many intersections are uncontrolled so the traffic weaves around in ways inconceivable to Western drivers. Motorbike drivers congregate on the street and yell "Woo hoo, motorbike!" to the passing foreigners. Some won't take no for an answer and will follow us down the street. If you so much as look at a vendor's wares, they will follow you persistently, intent on not leaving you alone until you buy something. An old man kept touching us and thrusting his goods in our faces while we sat in the shade to escape the heat. Ladies patrol the area balancing two baskets on either end of a stick propped on their shoulders. If you buy fruit from them, they will pose for pictures. They will block the sidewalk to make you buy something. Guys come running out with boxes of books - photocopied books! - and try to persuade you to buy. Some know English, but most only know enough to sell whatever they want to sell. This is definitely a crazy city. The Vietnamese people are simultaneously welcoming and offensive.
We went to the Ho Chi Minh Masoleum complex where there are museums and a Ho Chi's embalmed corpse. However, the corpse viewing is only in the morning so we started walking back towards the bus. While we sat on the curb deciding what to do next, a man stood watching us for several minutes. When we started walking, we eventually gave in to his pleading and took a ride on his cyclo. A cyclo is a kind of rickshaw with a seat in front and a bicycle in back. It was a little cozy for the two of us, but we got to see a lot of embassies and Lenin Park as we slowly made our way back to the old city. It was interesting being in the middle of some of those intersections.
Despite Gregg's lack of eagerness, we went to the water puppet show. Water puppetry is a distinctly north Vietnamese art form developed a long time ago during flood season. People stand behind a curtain in a couple feet of water and operate puppets in front of them by means of wooden sticks. There was live music featuring a zither and other Oriental instruments. It was cool and strange at the same time. An hour was enough, but it was interesting.
On Friday, we went on yet another bus to begin our tour of Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island. After an annoying stop at a tourist trap and a long wait at a restaurant we didn't eat at, we settled onto a large junk (Chinese boat) which to my disappointment lacked the characteristic sails. We quickly jumped up on top of the boat to take in the view of the bay.
More than 3000 islands jut out of the ocean in Halong Bay. Some rise like big Hershey Kisses. Some are like towers with smaller bases eroded away by water. The water is not spectacularly blue like the islands in Thailand, but they are stunning and amazing. We were taken to a huge cave with crazy rock formations. The flags outside proudly declare that it is a UNESCO World Heritage site. The cave itself is impressive, but the human additions are laughable and annoying. They have lit the cave with fluorescent lights of many colors, creating a disco ambience. They've paved a trail and created fake waterfalls and fountains. Instead of telling real history, the guide kept pointing out formations and telling some weird story about a dragon king getting married. Without our guide, we went into a second, more natural cave and enjoyed it more.
We spent the rest of the day cruising around the islands. Besides the scenery, the highlight was seeing giant jellyfish. With a diameter of at least 2 and a half, maybe three feet, they swam through the ocean like semi-translucent mushrooms. Despite their nearness, we did go swimming and play with some kayaks before supper. We tried to see the stars through the clouds as we chatted with our guide. He told us he enjoys communicating with people, but left the top deck as soon as the other passengers came. When we couldn't keep our eyes open anymore, we headed to our room on the lowest deck where we slept well until the power cut off at 5 am and our room became sweltering hot because the fan wasn't on.
On Saturday, we were sent with another guide to the national park on Cat Ba island. We had thought we would do only a short trek, but soon were told about the morning's fourteen kilometer trek up a mountain. After docking, we walked 4 km to a Viet Hai village. We could have hired motorbikes to take us for a dollar. A local guide was supposed to take us the rest of the way. We got to the trailhead and he motioned for Gregg and I to keep going. We didn't see the guide again until we reached the top. Gregg was hoping he was leading everyone up the right trail. It was a steep climb, one of the most intense hikes I've ever done. Gregg was first, a tough Swedish girl second and I took the bronze. We beat most of the group by about half an hour. The guide showed up with a determined old Australian. Everyone was absolutely drenched in sweat. But the view was worth it. First, we could see the village far below us and their fields rippling in the breeze. And around the other side, we could see the bay with the thousands of islands and Halong city in the distance. The water looked blue and inviting. I was thankful I stuck it out to the top.
On our way back to the village, we made friends with some puppies and missed our beloved dog Radar - perhaps the best dog in the entire world. After lunch, we hiked back to the boat and set sail for a beach to do kayaking and swimming. They stopped the boat a hundred meters from a beach and told us we could swim there because it was too shallow for them to go in. Not impressed, we opted to kayak over and skimmed over some jellyfish on the way, touching them with our paddles. The beach was small and dirty with gross sand so we sat in the water chatting with Europeans.
The next stop was Cat Ba town and the Sunflower Hotel. This was the nicest room we'd had yet. There were two beds, AC, tv, a fridge and a bathtub. After supper, we tried to walk around, but the hike had worn us out. We watched a weird song and dance show on the street and then bought ice cream. We were asleep by ten.
Sunday, we were reunited with our junk and took a different route through the bay. It was hot and we had trouble staying awake. We ate at a restaurant and bussed back to Hanoi. We were ready to get off the bus because of a septet of Spaniards who seemed incapable of speaking Spanish quietly, but enjoyed increasing their volume whenever we fell asleep.
One of the people on the slow boat to Luang Prabang was a Kiwi named Matt on his way to the UK. We've ran into him several times here in Hanoi. I'm sure we'll see him in Hue too. And maybe Hoi An . . . I also saw a guy I met in a village in the middle of Laos.
The currency here is the dong. One US dollar is 15, 800 dong. We recently withdrew millions of dong from our bank accounts. The 50 000 and 100 000 notes are made of plastic. It's kind of interesting.
We went to the Ho Chi Minh Masoleum complex where there are museums and a Ho Chi's embalmed corpse. However, the corpse viewing is only in the morning so we started walking back towards the bus. While we sat on the curb deciding what to do next, a man stood watching us for several minutes. When we started walking, we eventually gave in to his pleading and took a ride on his cyclo. A cyclo is a kind of rickshaw with a seat in front and a bicycle in back. It was a little cozy for the two of us, but we got to see a lot of embassies and Lenin Park as we slowly made our way back to the old city. It was interesting being in the middle of some of those intersections.
Despite Gregg's lack of eagerness, we went to the water puppet show. Water puppetry is a distinctly north Vietnamese art form developed a long time ago during flood season. People stand behind a curtain in a couple feet of water and operate puppets in front of them by means of wooden sticks. There was live music featuring a zither and other Oriental instruments. It was cool and strange at the same time. An hour was enough, but it was interesting.
On Friday, we went on yet another bus to begin our tour of Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island. After an annoying stop at a tourist trap and a long wait at a restaurant we didn't eat at, we settled onto a large junk (Chinese boat) which to my disappointment lacked the characteristic sails. We quickly jumped up on top of the boat to take in the view of the bay.
More than 3000 islands jut out of the ocean in Halong Bay. Some rise like big Hershey Kisses. Some are like towers with smaller bases eroded away by water. The water is not spectacularly blue like the islands in Thailand, but they are stunning and amazing. We were taken to a huge cave with crazy rock formations. The flags outside proudly declare that it is a UNESCO World Heritage site. The cave itself is impressive, but the human additions are laughable and annoying. They have lit the cave with fluorescent lights of many colors, creating a disco ambience. They've paved a trail and created fake waterfalls and fountains. Instead of telling real history, the guide kept pointing out formations and telling some weird story about a dragon king getting married. Without our guide, we went into a second, more natural cave and enjoyed it more.
We spent the rest of the day cruising around the islands. Besides the scenery, the highlight was seeing giant jellyfish. With a diameter of at least 2 and a half, maybe three feet, they swam through the ocean like semi-translucent mushrooms. Despite their nearness, we did go swimming and play with some kayaks before supper. We tried to see the stars through the clouds as we chatted with our guide. He told us he enjoys communicating with people, but left the top deck as soon as the other passengers came. When we couldn't keep our eyes open anymore, we headed to our room on the lowest deck where we slept well until the power cut off at 5 am and our room became sweltering hot because the fan wasn't on.
On Saturday, we were sent with another guide to the national park on Cat Ba island. We had thought we would do only a short trek, but soon were told about the morning's fourteen kilometer trek up a mountain. After docking, we walked 4 km to a Viet Hai village. We could have hired motorbikes to take us for a dollar. A local guide was supposed to take us the rest of the way. We got to the trailhead and he motioned for Gregg and I to keep going. We didn't see the guide again until we reached the top. Gregg was hoping he was leading everyone up the right trail. It was a steep climb, one of the most intense hikes I've ever done. Gregg was first, a tough Swedish girl second and I took the bronze. We beat most of the group by about half an hour. The guide showed up with a determined old Australian. Everyone was absolutely drenched in sweat. But the view was worth it. First, we could see the village far below us and their fields rippling in the breeze. And around the other side, we could see the bay with the thousands of islands and Halong city in the distance. The water looked blue and inviting. I was thankful I stuck it out to the top.
On our way back to the village, we made friends with some puppies and missed our beloved dog Radar - perhaps the best dog in the entire world. After lunch, we hiked back to the boat and set sail for a beach to do kayaking and swimming. They stopped the boat a hundred meters from a beach and told us we could swim there because it was too shallow for them to go in. Not impressed, we opted to kayak over and skimmed over some jellyfish on the way, touching them with our paddles. The beach was small and dirty with gross sand so we sat in the water chatting with Europeans.
The next stop was Cat Ba town and the Sunflower Hotel. This was the nicest room we'd had yet. There were two beds, AC, tv, a fridge and a bathtub. After supper, we tried to walk around, but the hike had worn us out. We watched a weird song and dance show on the street and then bought ice cream. We were asleep by ten.
Sunday, we were reunited with our junk and took a different route through the bay. It was hot and we had trouble staying awake. We ate at a restaurant and bussed back to Hanoi. We were ready to get off the bus because of a septet of Spaniards who seemed incapable of speaking Spanish quietly, but enjoyed increasing their volume whenever we fell asleep.
One of the people on the slow boat to Luang Prabang was a Kiwi named Matt on his way to the UK. We've ran into him several times here in Hanoi. I'm sure we'll see him in Hue too. And maybe Hoi An . . . I also saw a guy I met in a village in the middle of Laos.
The currency here is the dong. One US dollar is 15, 800 dong. We recently withdrew millions of dong from our bank accounts. The 50 000 and 100 000 notes are made of plastic. It's kind of interesting.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Crossing into Vietnam
On Tuesday the tenth, we got up at 5 in the morning. For an oilman like Gregg, that's not too early. But English teachers like me don't usually see the sunrise . . . unless we've been up all night long. Actually, it was hard for both of us to rise. But the bus to the border was leaving at 6:30 and we needed to be there earlier to get a seat. However, when we arrived at the bus station, we were not directed to a bus. We were directed to a truck. I can't pronounce the correct name, but it's a common form of transport here. It's a pick up with two benches in the back and a topper. The truck already looked full when we arrived and no one seemed real anxious to let us in, but we crawled in, and sat there with our back hunched over. The roof was too low for short me, let alone significantly taller Gregg. He was in agony shortly. His spot in the truck was not ideal earlier. On his right was a woman with a cold who kept blowing her nose on her dusty rose jacket. At one point, she blew a snot rocket which didn't make it outside the truck, but on the seat behind Gregg. On his other side was an ancient man smoking acrid cigarettes and periodically dredging up phlegm and spitting. As we wound through the mountains, the large water jugs in the middle started to roll around.
Eventually we stopped and were told to get out. It didn't look like a border crossing to us, but the little old ladies showed us what to do. The Lao border station is a row of wooden rooms full of uniformed men. They looked at our passports for quite some time and stamped us out of the country and pointed to the road to Nam. With all our packs on our backs, we started walking a gravel/chunky pavement road. Gregg stopped to help some old ladies with a cart of sticks while some young men sat smoking beside them. Chivalry is dead on the road between Laos and Vietnam, I guess. It was weird looking up at the mountains and the trees of Vietnam, knowing I would soon be in that country. Growing up, I never had any inclination to go to Asia and now it's where I've travelled the most. Weird.
The Vietnam border crossing was a series of bamboo huts. Despite the negative info we'd received, it turns out that the Na Meo border has been open to foreigners since April 2004 and hasn't been turning people back. We were quite glad to not redo the truck ride of the morning. We went around from hut to hut with papers and had some of our bags searched. An English speaking officer was delighted to give us some travel advice and sent us on our way.
Now the problem was getting to Hanoi. There is only one bus from the border every week. Since we didn't want to wait until Saturday for that one bus, we went into the village in search of some motorcyclists to haul us to another town - just like the nice border man counselled us. Some guys smoking a bong were excited to see us, and gave us some tea while they played with our sunglasses. The whole family came out to look at us. They overcharged us, but we couldn't argue because we had to get out of there if we wanted to make Hanoi that night. They strapped my pack to the back of an old motorcycle and precariously placed Gregg's in front of the driver of a new bike. And off we went down a windy road with no helmets. I snapped some pictures of the hills. Children on bicycles would smile and yell hello when they realized we were foreigners. Guys would holler to my driver when they saw his foreign female cargo. It was fun . . . until the bike started to stall. Gregg and his driver had disappeared and I was alone with my driver who took my water bottle, drank most of it and then poured the rest on the bike. We limped along a little further. Gregg's driver ditched Gregg and came back. It was a long stupid process. Towards the end, we switched drivers and realized that the problem was the driver, not the bike. My first driver didn't know how to downshift and drove over cautiously around the corners, honking and honking. I got upset because the border guy had told us the bus left at 1 and we were still several kilometers from Quan Son. It took us about two hours and twenty minutes to drive 53 kilometers.
But praise the Lord! The bus hadn't left yet. We offered the four dollars it should have cost, but the guy demanded twenty. We offered ten since we were desperate ( I don't think there were any guesthouses there.) The bus actually took off without us. But they stopped and let us in. I bonked my head crawling into the bus and then greedily drank the little bit of water we had left. Gregg did his best to keep me under control. All the guys sat backwards in their seats just to stare at us. I was so annoyed.
We named the greedy guy "Snake" because of his evil beady eyes. He's our first enemy of the trip and kept giving us the evil eye. During a break for coconut juice, he actually left the table when everyone else called us over and tried to make friends. We named his pal "Lizard" because he was creepy, but harmless. Lizard would crawl on top of the bus to secure luggage and they'd take off while he was still up there. He'd crawl down while the bus was moving. He's quite talented. They honk the horns all the time here to let people know they're coming. It seemed to go off every ten seconds.
When we were almost at Thanh Hoa where the land flattens out into rice fields bordered by spectacular cliffs, Snake stopped the bus and ran into a store where a policeman had parked his motorcycle. He came out with the policeman and we had to exit the bus and present our passports. Snake stood there beaming. We really think he was hoping we'd done something wrong. He was happy to scare us. The policeman was disinterested and I was quite eager for the bus ride to be over.
When we arrived in Thanh Hoa, we boarded a bus for Hanoi. It was luxuriously cool inside. There weren't many people and we each took two seats. But as we went, we picked up more and more people. We had our big packs with us and had to cram ourselves into one seat. We found out later that everyone else left their stuff in a storage compartment in the back, but no one told us about that.
It took another three and a half hours to go 130 kilometers. There is no freeway in Vietnam. Everyone has to slog away through the cities. We got dropped at a bus station and motorcycle drivers swarmed us like flies. After the morning's adventure, we had no interest in another ride. When we couldn't find a bus, we beat the drivers away and found refuge in a cab bound for the Old Quarter. We were both worn out and grumpy and not the best combination. Gregg was quick to declare, "I hate this place" as the driver dropped us off on a dirty dark street with hundreds of motorcycles swerving around us. I blew up at a girl trying to get us to stay at her guesthouse because I was sick of people in my face. Gregg was very diplomatic, and soothed over the situation. We did take a room from her, a great room and I did my best to apologize.
With the erratic schedule and the poor gourmet selection in Sam Neua, we had hardly eaten in two days. We tried to find something, but shops kept closing in our faces. We found some water and went to bed, enjoying the air conditioning and Cartoon Network and two big beds.
For Gregg's birthday, we slept in and actually ate lunch. We explored the area around Hoan Keim Lake and went into an old Catholic church and a temple. At an ATM, I took too long and it confiscated my card so I had to return a few hours later to get it. I felt a little stupid. We went shopping - there are tons and tons of shops here. Gregg talked to the parents on the phone, surprising them with the news we were in Hanoi. Then we ate at a pizza buffet and made up for the calories we'd missed in the previous days.
Today was more sightseeing and shopping. Tonight we'll go to Hanoi's famous water puppets. Gregg's not too excited about that. Tomorrow we take off for Ha Long Bay and Cat Ba Island. Right now, it sounds like paradise.
Eventually we stopped and were told to get out. It didn't look like a border crossing to us, but the little old ladies showed us what to do. The Lao border station is a row of wooden rooms full of uniformed men. They looked at our passports for quite some time and stamped us out of the country and pointed to the road to Nam. With all our packs on our backs, we started walking a gravel/chunky pavement road. Gregg stopped to help some old ladies with a cart of sticks while some young men sat smoking beside them. Chivalry is dead on the road between Laos and Vietnam, I guess. It was weird looking up at the mountains and the trees of Vietnam, knowing I would soon be in that country. Growing up, I never had any inclination to go to Asia and now it's where I've travelled the most. Weird.
The Vietnam border crossing was a series of bamboo huts. Despite the negative info we'd received, it turns out that the Na Meo border has been open to foreigners since April 2004 and hasn't been turning people back. We were quite glad to not redo the truck ride of the morning. We went around from hut to hut with papers and had some of our bags searched. An English speaking officer was delighted to give us some travel advice and sent us on our way.
Now the problem was getting to Hanoi. There is only one bus from the border every week. Since we didn't want to wait until Saturday for that one bus, we went into the village in search of some motorcyclists to haul us to another town - just like the nice border man counselled us. Some guys smoking a bong were excited to see us, and gave us some tea while they played with our sunglasses. The whole family came out to look at us. They overcharged us, but we couldn't argue because we had to get out of there if we wanted to make Hanoi that night. They strapped my pack to the back of an old motorcycle and precariously placed Gregg's in front of the driver of a new bike. And off we went down a windy road with no helmets. I snapped some pictures of the hills. Children on bicycles would smile and yell hello when they realized we were foreigners. Guys would holler to my driver when they saw his foreign female cargo. It was fun . . . until the bike started to stall. Gregg and his driver had disappeared and I was alone with my driver who took my water bottle, drank most of it and then poured the rest on the bike. We limped along a little further. Gregg's driver ditched Gregg and came back. It was a long stupid process. Towards the end, we switched drivers and realized that the problem was the driver, not the bike. My first driver didn't know how to downshift and drove over cautiously around the corners, honking and honking. I got upset because the border guy had told us the bus left at 1 and we were still several kilometers from Quan Son. It took us about two hours and twenty minutes to drive 53 kilometers.
But praise the Lord! The bus hadn't left yet. We offered the four dollars it should have cost, but the guy demanded twenty. We offered ten since we were desperate ( I don't think there were any guesthouses there.) The bus actually took off without us. But they stopped and let us in. I bonked my head crawling into the bus and then greedily drank the little bit of water we had left. Gregg did his best to keep me under control. All the guys sat backwards in their seats just to stare at us. I was so annoyed.
We named the greedy guy "Snake" because of his evil beady eyes. He's our first enemy of the trip and kept giving us the evil eye. During a break for coconut juice, he actually left the table when everyone else called us over and tried to make friends. We named his pal "Lizard" because he was creepy, but harmless. Lizard would crawl on top of the bus to secure luggage and they'd take off while he was still up there. He'd crawl down while the bus was moving. He's quite talented. They honk the horns all the time here to let people know they're coming. It seemed to go off every ten seconds.
When we were almost at Thanh Hoa where the land flattens out into rice fields bordered by spectacular cliffs, Snake stopped the bus and ran into a store where a policeman had parked his motorcycle. He came out with the policeman and we had to exit the bus and present our passports. Snake stood there beaming. We really think he was hoping we'd done something wrong. He was happy to scare us. The policeman was disinterested and I was quite eager for the bus ride to be over.
When we arrived in Thanh Hoa, we boarded a bus for Hanoi. It was luxuriously cool inside. There weren't many people and we each took two seats. But as we went, we picked up more and more people. We had our big packs with us and had to cram ourselves into one seat. We found out later that everyone else left their stuff in a storage compartment in the back, but no one told us about that.
It took another three and a half hours to go 130 kilometers. There is no freeway in Vietnam. Everyone has to slog away through the cities. We got dropped at a bus station and motorcycle drivers swarmed us like flies. After the morning's adventure, we had no interest in another ride. When we couldn't find a bus, we beat the drivers away and found refuge in a cab bound for the Old Quarter. We were both worn out and grumpy and not the best combination. Gregg was quick to declare, "I hate this place" as the driver dropped us off on a dirty dark street with hundreds of motorcycles swerving around us. I blew up at a girl trying to get us to stay at her guesthouse because I was sick of people in my face. Gregg was very diplomatic, and soothed over the situation. We did take a room from her, a great room and I did my best to apologize.
With the erratic schedule and the poor gourmet selection in Sam Neua, we had hardly eaten in two days. We tried to find something, but shops kept closing in our faces. We found some water and went to bed, enjoying the air conditioning and Cartoon Network and two big beds.
For Gregg's birthday, we slept in and actually ate lunch. We explored the area around Hoan Keim Lake and went into an old Catholic church and a temple. At an ATM, I took too long and it confiscated my card so I had to return a few hours later to get it. I felt a little stupid. We went shopping - there are tons and tons of shops here. Gregg talked to the parents on the phone, surprising them with the news we were in Hanoi. Then we ate at a pizza buffet and made up for the calories we'd missed in the previous days.
Today was more sightseeing and shopping. Tonight we'll go to Hanoi's famous water puppets. Gregg's not too excited about that. Tomorrow we take off for Ha Long Bay and Cat Ba Island. Right now, it sounds like paradise.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Happy Hanoi Birthday
Good morning Vietnam! Now that I got that out of my system, I would like everyone to know that May 11 is Gregg's birthday. After the cool mountains of Laos, we are sweating profusely in the hot city of Hanoi. We made it here after an arduous journey and to celebrate Gregg's birthday, we got an air conditioned room with a TV, big beds and cable television. It's going to be a long post because the last few days have been quite interesting. So maybe you should put on your reading glasses.
Those of you who know both Gregg and I know that we tend to make decisions by default - we hem and haw and then have to deal with the consequences of waiting too long. Most travellers in Laos take a southern route to cross into central Vietnam because according to tourist police, foreign embassies, other travellers, and guidebooks like Lonely Planet, the only legal crossings for foreigners are in the south. We weren't too excited about that because we would have to do a lot of backtracking in order to see what we want to of Vietnam. We heard from a few sources that we could actually cross further north at Na Meo. So about half an hour before the bus left for Northern Laos, we decided to go. We threw all our belongings into our backpacks and headed for the bus station, bidding Vang Vieng's cliffs adieu.
The bus was definitely not a VIP bus. Along with two other foreigners and a plethora of Lao people, we boarded an ancient sturdy bus reminiscent of Air Streams. As usual, our stuff was thrown onto the top of the bus. I've never seen anything fall off. Gregg's seat companion, a very tired man, kept falling asleep on his shoulder. They passed out plastic bags for people to puke in because the terrain is crazy. It's all up, down, right, left. It's like a crazy roller coaster. You have to hold on for dear life. One girl in particular suffered from motion sickness.
But the scenery was gorgeous and made the carnival ride worth it. I can't describe the beauty of the green green hills and the villages nestled beside the side of the road. Laos is incredibly beautiful and I know that my words and my pictures could never convey to you the wonderful things we saw as we snaked through the countryside on that bus.
On the bus, we made friends with John, a well travelled Australian who told us travel tales of places I've never really heard of. He's a former Navy man who served off the coast in the Vietnam War - which we are learning to call the American War. We spent the next day and a half in his company. It was kind of weird - we're the same age as his children.
At one point, the bus stopped and everyone started jabbering. A lady had forgotten her cell phone at the restaurant where we'd stopped for lunch. A motorcycle went back to retrieve and the bus stayed parked partway up a hill around a bend for over half an hour. That wouldn't have happened in the western world.
After 8 hours and only about 150 kilometers, we arrived in Phonsavanh and the most heavily bombed place in the Vietnam/American War. The hills were sprayed with Agent Orange so now only grass grows on them. They've brought in eucalyptus trees because they're the only ones that will grow in the ravaged soil. Bomb craters dot the landscape and the people can't stray off established paths for fear of blowing their foot off on an old landmine. The British organization MAG is working to clear the land of UXO - unexploded ordnance - left over from the war. We went there to learn about the war and to see the mysterious Plain of the Jars.
On Sunday, Gregg, John our Aussie friend, and I went on a tour of the Jars and other sights. When the promised air con van refused to start, we were placed in an ancient Russian car that appeared to have been painted with house paint. Our guide Malan told us a little about the war - like the Americans getting the people to grow opium to fund the war - but mainly quizzed us about drinking and social life in Canada. He told us his dad had lived in a cave for five years during the war. A lot of the caves in Laos served as residences during the war.
The Plain of the Jars is really just that - a field full of huge old stone jars. They are probably about five hundred to a thousand years old and their origin and purpose are unknown. It's speculated they were funeral urns or vats for making rice whiskey. No one knows for sure. The biggest one weighs 6.6 tonnes (we think). They think that some of them may have come from as far as three hundred kilometers away - quite impressive given Laos' rugged terrain. There are several sites. We saw one. We had to keep to the paths because MAG hasn't totally finished clearing the site.
We also saw an old Russian tank, the old American airstrip, a cleared mine field full of little craters, and tons of old bombs that haven't been disarmed yet. It was a little scary at times following the guide through all the bush. He took us to a Buddha cave where a lot of Buddhas had been hidden for protection. The Americans had also used it during the war. We also saw a medicine cave full of glass medicine bottles and a coffin cave with old bones in a wooden coffin. We felt uncomfortable at all three caves and don't recommend them to anyone. We also went to a UXO village. With all the bomb casings and scrap and shells readily available, the people have gotten quite creative. They flatten barrels for roofs and use casings as fence posts. Pots and cutlery are made from metal from airplanes. We ate dinner with such spoons.
There were two highlights to the day. Gregg and I both tried some barbecued frog legs. We also stopped and played Lao football with some village kids. This game is like volleyball played with the feet, head, shoulders, legs and chest, but no arms or hands. I was no good, but luckily the driver was awesome so we beat the kids.
Monday, despite negative news from other travellers and the Canadian embassy, we continued our trek into northern Laos by boarding yet another bus bound for the town of Sam Neua. We were the only foreigners and thankfully there weren't too many Lao either so we had our own seats. They got over staring eventually. This trip was even windier than previous ones. Gregg counted the straight stretches and never made it past five Mississippis. He usually only made two or three. We couldn't sleep because we had to grip the handles on the seats.
When we stopped for lunch, a kind non-English speaking lady understood my pantomine and lead me far away through a restaurant into the back of a yard to a toilet. I ran into a foreigner in the restaurant who gave me discouraging news about the border I intended to cross, but it was too late. I was headed there. The bus driver and his domineering wife were changing the bald tire on the bus in favor of a slightly less bald spare. Gregg got in there and helped them, wielding a 5 foot snipe to tighten the bolts. The driver's skill amazed me. He drove for hours on end on a tiny road only wide enough for one vehicle, honking his horn to announce going around a corner. He could maneuver that bus anywhere.
Sam Neua is a beautiful and surprisingly large town in northern Laos. It's well off the tourist circuit so we were stared down pretty hard upon arrival. We actually saw three other foreigners in this valley settlement. We went to the riverside market. Shops and fruit vendors are scattered outside. There is a main building of the same quality as a fifty year old granary where tons of little shops are set up in a labrinth. When we first walked in, we were in the meat department. Gregg saw a leg lying on a table and wanted to throw up. We pinched our noses and ran to the other shops where you could buy almost anything needed for your typical Northern Laos lifestyle.
We were walking down one of the gravel streets and a boy came walking up to us. I saw a knife in his hand and he put it behind us as he drew near. We thought he wanted to stab Gregg, but thankfully, no.
My hands are getting sore and I'm sure you're tired of my verbosity. The story gets more interesting as we make our way from Sam Neua to Hanoi. You'll have to wait for the next installment of our travel narrative.
Those of you who know both Gregg and I know that we tend to make decisions by default - we hem and haw and then have to deal with the consequences of waiting too long. Most travellers in Laos take a southern route to cross into central Vietnam because according to tourist police, foreign embassies, other travellers, and guidebooks like Lonely Planet, the only legal crossings for foreigners are in the south. We weren't too excited about that because we would have to do a lot of backtracking in order to see what we want to of Vietnam. We heard from a few sources that we could actually cross further north at Na Meo. So about half an hour before the bus left for Northern Laos, we decided to go. We threw all our belongings into our backpacks and headed for the bus station, bidding Vang Vieng's cliffs adieu.
The bus was definitely not a VIP bus. Along with two other foreigners and a plethora of Lao people, we boarded an ancient sturdy bus reminiscent of Air Streams. As usual, our stuff was thrown onto the top of the bus. I've never seen anything fall off. Gregg's seat companion, a very tired man, kept falling asleep on his shoulder. They passed out plastic bags for people to puke in because the terrain is crazy. It's all up, down, right, left. It's like a crazy roller coaster. You have to hold on for dear life. One girl in particular suffered from motion sickness.
But the scenery was gorgeous and made the carnival ride worth it. I can't describe the beauty of the green green hills and the villages nestled beside the side of the road. Laos is incredibly beautiful and I know that my words and my pictures could never convey to you the wonderful things we saw as we snaked through the countryside on that bus.
On the bus, we made friends with John, a well travelled Australian who told us travel tales of places I've never really heard of. He's a former Navy man who served off the coast in the Vietnam War - which we are learning to call the American War. We spent the next day and a half in his company. It was kind of weird - we're the same age as his children.
At one point, the bus stopped and everyone started jabbering. A lady had forgotten her cell phone at the restaurant where we'd stopped for lunch. A motorcycle went back to retrieve and the bus stayed parked partway up a hill around a bend for over half an hour. That wouldn't have happened in the western world.
After 8 hours and only about 150 kilometers, we arrived in Phonsavanh and the most heavily bombed place in the Vietnam/American War. The hills were sprayed with Agent Orange so now only grass grows on them. They've brought in eucalyptus trees because they're the only ones that will grow in the ravaged soil. Bomb craters dot the landscape and the people can't stray off established paths for fear of blowing their foot off on an old landmine. The British organization MAG is working to clear the land of UXO - unexploded ordnance - left over from the war. We went there to learn about the war and to see the mysterious Plain of the Jars.
On Sunday, Gregg, John our Aussie friend, and I went on a tour of the Jars and other sights. When the promised air con van refused to start, we were placed in an ancient Russian car that appeared to have been painted with house paint. Our guide Malan told us a little about the war - like the Americans getting the people to grow opium to fund the war - but mainly quizzed us about drinking and social life in Canada. He told us his dad had lived in a cave for five years during the war. A lot of the caves in Laos served as residences during the war.
The Plain of the Jars is really just that - a field full of huge old stone jars. They are probably about five hundred to a thousand years old and their origin and purpose are unknown. It's speculated they were funeral urns or vats for making rice whiskey. No one knows for sure. The biggest one weighs 6.6 tonnes (we think). They think that some of them may have come from as far as three hundred kilometers away - quite impressive given Laos' rugged terrain. There are several sites. We saw one. We had to keep to the paths because MAG hasn't totally finished clearing the site.
We also saw an old Russian tank, the old American airstrip, a cleared mine field full of little craters, and tons of old bombs that haven't been disarmed yet. It was a little scary at times following the guide through all the bush. He took us to a Buddha cave where a lot of Buddhas had been hidden for protection. The Americans had also used it during the war. We also saw a medicine cave full of glass medicine bottles and a coffin cave with old bones in a wooden coffin. We felt uncomfortable at all three caves and don't recommend them to anyone. We also went to a UXO village. With all the bomb casings and scrap and shells readily available, the people have gotten quite creative. They flatten barrels for roofs and use casings as fence posts. Pots and cutlery are made from metal from airplanes. We ate dinner with such spoons.
There were two highlights to the day. Gregg and I both tried some barbecued frog legs. We also stopped and played Lao football with some village kids. This game is like volleyball played with the feet, head, shoulders, legs and chest, but no arms or hands. I was no good, but luckily the driver was awesome so we beat the kids.
Monday, despite negative news from other travellers and the Canadian embassy, we continued our trek into northern Laos by boarding yet another bus bound for the town of Sam Neua. We were the only foreigners and thankfully there weren't too many Lao either so we had our own seats. They got over staring eventually. This trip was even windier than previous ones. Gregg counted the straight stretches and never made it past five Mississippis. He usually only made two or three. We couldn't sleep because we had to grip the handles on the seats.
When we stopped for lunch, a kind non-English speaking lady understood my pantomine and lead me far away through a restaurant into the back of a yard to a toilet. I ran into a foreigner in the restaurant who gave me discouraging news about the border I intended to cross, but it was too late. I was headed there. The bus driver and his domineering wife were changing the bald tire on the bus in favor of a slightly less bald spare. Gregg got in there and helped them, wielding a 5 foot snipe to tighten the bolts. The driver's skill amazed me. He drove for hours on end on a tiny road only wide enough for one vehicle, honking his horn to announce going around a corner. He could maneuver that bus anywhere.
Sam Neua is a beautiful and surprisingly large town in northern Laos. It's well off the tourist circuit so we were stared down pretty hard upon arrival. We actually saw three other foreigners in this valley settlement. We went to the riverside market. Shops and fruit vendors are scattered outside. There is a main building of the same quality as a fifty year old granary where tons of little shops are set up in a labrinth. When we first walked in, we were in the meat department. Gregg saw a leg lying on a table and wanted to throw up. We pinched our noses and ran to the other shops where you could buy almost anything needed for your typical Northern Laos lifestyle.
We were walking down one of the gravel streets and a boy came walking up to us. I saw a knife in his hand and he put it behind us as he drew near. We thought he wanted to stab Gregg, but thankfully, no.
My hands are getting sore and I'm sure you're tired of my verbosity. The story gets more interesting as we make our way from Sam Neua to Hanoi. You'll have to wait for the next installment of our travel narrative.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Do you want a happy shake?
I'm not quite sure what "medicinal" ingredients there are in a happy shake, but I've been told to avoid them. Vang Vieng is known as a druggie kind of place.
Well, back to where we left off . . . we boarded a bus for Vang Vieng which turned out to be air conditioned (a la windows open) and VIP (meaning we are very important people). We arrived too early and got put on a less express bus. We were barely out of town when the bus overheated and I think we drove the rest of the way with the engine compartment open. We went through crazy terrain, and tight switch backs, sometimes inches from plummeting off the cliff into the dark abyss below. We had a break halfway through and the driver fell asleep within minutes of turning off the bus and snored for a solid half an hour. I think he was kicking back the Red Bull later. I eventually fell asleep as we drove, and Gregg acted as a pillow for the Lao woman beside him.
At 2:45 AM, we awoke to a guy shouting "VANG VIENG" and we stumbled out into the darkness. Literal darkness. We could not make out a town anywhere. We walked for 30 minutes trying to find the town. We donned our headlamps and still could not find it. We did find a guesthouse and woke up the guy at the front desk to give us a room.
The next morning, I went out to find town. I went outside the door and had my first glimpse of the beauty of Vang Vieng. Limestone cliffs form a dramatic backdrop behind the river. The mountains rise to jagged little tops with trees seemingly growing out of the rock. I was so happy to find Vang Vieng. I got Gregg and we checked into the Nana Guesthouse where Lao coffee, tea and bananas are free. We can see the cliffs from our room.
Vang Vieng has changed in the last few years as more and more tourists discover it. Several restaurants blare the tv show "Friends". I can hear about three episodes playing at once. It's a little bit of overkill. They have pillows for you to get comfortable. Some restaurants let you pick movies. Gregg and I watched "Envy". I feel sorry for all the other people at the restaurant who had to watch it with us.
One of the featured activities here is to tube down the Nam Song river into town. A few dollars and you are driven out a few kilometers with a tube and let loose on the river. It was amazing to see all the cliffs so close up. Little stands line the banks declaring "Jumping Beer". Buy beer and you can make use of their zipline, jumping platform, swing or rope swing. We didn't buy any Beer Lao, but did make use of some jumping facilities. The rope swing wasn't too nice on Gregg's shoulder. Fishermen labored with goggles and spears and nets. Children swam and sang songs. The occasional vendor would strum his guitar and make up songs about Beer Lao. It was incredibly relaxing. But eventually it got incredibly old. The water is low since it's the dry season. The rainy season is around the corner, but for now the river is slow and I kept hitting my butt on the rocks. We kept having to paddle with our arms. As town came into sight, we picked up the tubes and finished on a land route. It took us four hours. In prime season, it only takes 30 minutes to an hour.
Today, we went on a trip called the "Vang Vieng Experience" through the Wildside organization. They pioneered the eco-tourism movement in Laos and we wanted to support them in their attempts at low impact tourism. We joined an Australian guy with a huge grey mustache and a non-descript Welshman for a day of kayaking, and caving. One of our guides was on his inaugural trip. He usually works in the office. We were driven about 7-10 kilometers out of town and then began kayaking in inflatable sea kayaks. It was definitely faster than tubing. Gregg was initially irritated at my ineptitude in steering, but ate his words later when I made him do it. We soon were in stride. Our first stop was a cave. We hiked about ten minutes and then wandered through a series of caverns, encountering locals on their way through. It was pretty cool. We went in one way and out another. We then went to a waterfall that wasn't there and had to backtrack. Back at the river, we jumped off a platform. I took the baby level and Gregg went straight for the top, but we both had trouble with water in our ears the rest of the day. We chowed down and hopped back in the canoes. The next stop was an organic farm - and the entry point for the tubers. The organic farm cafe served us tea made from mulberry leaves and then we saw the women working on preparing the tea leaves. Next we stopped at Tham None - the sleeping cave - which Gregg and I had stopped at the day before, but hadn't wandered much inside. Crazy stagatites hung from the ceilings like the thing at the back of your throat. We had to wade through a cold puddle up to our knees to make it to the back caverns. In one large cavern, the guide had us turn off our lights and he told us why it's called the sleeping cave. When the country was at war, about 20-30 people slept there every night. I can't imagine living in a dark dank cave. We ate some fire fruit, took some pictures and paddled back to town.
Before coming here, I knew a little of the history of the region - basically the horrors that happened in Vietnam and Cambodia. I didn't know about Laos. In the seventies, the US carpet bombed it. About 30% of the bombs didn't explode and in some regions of the country, it's dangerous to walk off the trail. They are cleaning up the country, but it's a slow process.
Thanks to everyone for the comments. We read all of them. Someday I'll read your blogs and post comments too.
Well, back to where we left off . . . we boarded a bus for Vang Vieng which turned out to be air conditioned (a la windows open) and VIP (meaning we are very important people). We arrived too early and got put on a less express bus. We were barely out of town when the bus overheated and I think we drove the rest of the way with the engine compartment open. We went through crazy terrain, and tight switch backs, sometimes inches from plummeting off the cliff into the dark abyss below. We had a break halfway through and the driver fell asleep within minutes of turning off the bus and snored for a solid half an hour. I think he was kicking back the Red Bull later. I eventually fell asleep as we drove, and Gregg acted as a pillow for the Lao woman beside him.
At 2:45 AM, we awoke to a guy shouting "VANG VIENG" and we stumbled out into the darkness. Literal darkness. We could not make out a town anywhere. We walked for 30 minutes trying to find the town. We donned our headlamps and still could not find it. We did find a guesthouse and woke up the guy at the front desk to give us a room.
The next morning, I went out to find town. I went outside the door and had my first glimpse of the beauty of Vang Vieng. Limestone cliffs form a dramatic backdrop behind the river. The mountains rise to jagged little tops with trees seemingly growing out of the rock. I was so happy to find Vang Vieng. I got Gregg and we checked into the Nana Guesthouse where Lao coffee, tea and bananas are free. We can see the cliffs from our room.
Vang Vieng has changed in the last few years as more and more tourists discover it. Several restaurants blare the tv show "Friends". I can hear about three episodes playing at once. It's a little bit of overkill. They have pillows for you to get comfortable. Some restaurants let you pick movies. Gregg and I watched "Envy". I feel sorry for all the other people at the restaurant who had to watch it with us.
One of the featured activities here is to tube down the Nam Song river into town. A few dollars and you are driven out a few kilometers with a tube and let loose on the river. It was amazing to see all the cliffs so close up. Little stands line the banks declaring "Jumping Beer". Buy beer and you can make use of their zipline, jumping platform, swing or rope swing. We didn't buy any Beer Lao, but did make use of some jumping facilities. The rope swing wasn't too nice on Gregg's shoulder. Fishermen labored with goggles and spears and nets. Children swam and sang songs. The occasional vendor would strum his guitar and make up songs about Beer Lao. It was incredibly relaxing. But eventually it got incredibly old. The water is low since it's the dry season. The rainy season is around the corner, but for now the river is slow and I kept hitting my butt on the rocks. We kept having to paddle with our arms. As town came into sight, we picked up the tubes and finished on a land route. It took us four hours. In prime season, it only takes 30 minutes to an hour.
Today, we went on a trip called the "Vang Vieng Experience" through the Wildside organization. They pioneered the eco-tourism movement in Laos and we wanted to support them in their attempts at low impact tourism. We joined an Australian guy with a huge grey mustache and a non-descript Welshman for a day of kayaking, and caving. One of our guides was on his inaugural trip. He usually works in the office. We were driven about 7-10 kilometers out of town and then began kayaking in inflatable sea kayaks. It was definitely faster than tubing. Gregg was initially irritated at my ineptitude in steering, but ate his words later when I made him do it. We soon were in stride. Our first stop was a cave. We hiked about ten minutes and then wandered through a series of caverns, encountering locals on their way through. It was pretty cool. We went in one way and out another. We then went to a waterfall that wasn't there and had to backtrack. Back at the river, we jumped off a platform. I took the baby level and Gregg went straight for the top, but we both had trouble with water in our ears the rest of the day. We chowed down and hopped back in the canoes. The next stop was an organic farm - and the entry point for the tubers. The organic farm cafe served us tea made from mulberry leaves and then we saw the women working on preparing the tea leaves. Next we stopped at Tham None - the sleeping cave - which Gregg and I had stopped at the day before, but hadn't wandered much inside. Crazy stagatites hung from the ceilings like the thing at the back of your throat. We had to wade through a cold puddle up to our knees to make it to the back caverns. In one large cavern, the guide had us turn off our lights and he told us why it's called the sleeping cave. When the country was at war, about 20-30 people slept there every night. I can't imagine living in a dark dank cave. We ate some fire fruit, took some pictures and paddled back to town.
Before coming here, I knew a little of the history of the region - basically the horrors that happened in Vietnam and Cambodia. I didn't know about Laos. In the seventies, the US carpet bombed it. About 30% of the bombs didn't explode and in some regions of the country, it's dangerous to walk off the trail. They are cleaning up the country, but it's a slow process.
Thanks to everyone for the comments. We read all of them. Someday I'll read your blogs and post comments too.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Lazy Days in Luang Prabang
The guidebooks say that every day is like Sunday in Luang Prabang. After a couple lazy days here, we now understand what they mean. We woke up on Tuesday morning in a quiet town where palm trees wave in the wind and white clouds float over head while foreigners and locals alike cruise around on bicycles or sit resting in the shade. All the buildings have wooden shutters on the windows and have an Asian-European feel. It's hard to believe that we're in such a remote location.
The French considered Laos a colony during the days when every Western country wanted colonies. Our Austrian friend Weed Wacker says that France only kept Laos for the opium - which is probably true. French is the second language so all government signs are written in Lao and French. (Lucky for us English is the language of tourism.) The bakeries all sell baguettes and French bread so we've had some awesome sandwiches. We have had some more traditional Laos meals as well. They don't use chopsticks, but instead serve up sticky rice in little wicker baskets. You form a ball of rice and dip it in your food. It really is quite fun.
Yesterday afternoon, we went to the Kuangsi Waterfall with all of our new friends from the slow boat. Laura the Canadian was happy to not be the only Canadian in a group of English. We climbed into the back of a cab truck and motored down a gravel road for 29 kilometers. When we got off and walked the path, we saw the most stunning waterfall ever. It was a series of long tall cascades with three main tiers plunging through the rain forest with mountains all around. We stood open mouthed at the bottom before making our ascent up the slippery rocks to the top. The rain started to fall as we climbed, drenching us all, and making everything a little slipperier.
At the top, we could look out at the entire canyon and see orange robed monks playing in the pool near the top. Despite the rain, we joined them. Gregg enjoyed his first rock jumping experience and quickly plunged into the blue pool. It is so hard to describe. It was my most magical waterfall experience. We could lean over the edge of the pool and look way down at the cascades and pools below us. I could have stayed there forever.
We had dinner by the river and then joined the slow boat crowd at Le Tam Tam. En route, we were walking through the market when it started to rain. We knew it was raining before we felt it because all the vendors grabbed their wares off the ground and started running. Soon, we too were running in the rain. We arrived at Le Tam Tam a little wet. Tim, a Dutch guy, told Gregg stories about helping to clean up the Phi Phi islands after the Tsunami. Everyone was there - even Wolverine and the Austrians - and planned to participate in some karaoke. However, Gregg and I broke ourselves away from the group in favor of a more authentic Lao experience.
Muongswa by Night - the Laos disco. We were the only white people there. We entered through red padded doors into a dark room with disco lights and a live band that played the occasional English song like Suzie Q. Young and old danced together out on the floor with the flashing lights and blacklights. They seemed to love a dance where everyone walks in a circle rotating their wrists. I participated in Laos line dance. I got a few looks. When the band took a break, the place erupted into Laos techno dance party. The old people didn't sit down but kept grooving to the music. It was awesome and hilarious. I tried to dance with them, but I dance too fast. They operate at half the speed I do.
Today, we went to the Palace museum. A former residence of the kings from the 20th century has been made into a museum. We wandered through reception rooms and a throne room and peaked at some bedrooms. The throne room was ornate with a glass mosaic on the walls depicting Laos folk tales. The reception room housed gifts to Laos from other nations. The bedrooms were surprisingly simple with white walls and sparse furniture. After the museum, we hiked up the 329 steps to the top of Mt. Phousi in the middle of Luang Prabang. The wats aren't too interesting there, but the view of the Mekong to the west and the valley to the east was amazing. Palm trees and red roofs fill the basin up the green hills. We saw an old Russian anti-aircraft gun. Uncle Vic would have been fascinated. Afterwards, we rented bicycles and wandered around town. We've seen the sights here now so we have only one thing left to do: chill. That seems to be what most people do here.
We've been here long enough that we can now recognize when people are new off the boat. Time seems to stand still here. In a few hours, we'll board a "VIP" air con bus for Vang Vien. We'll see how "VIP" and how "Air Con" it is.
The French considered Laos a colony during the days when every Western country wanted colonies. Our Austrian friend Weed Wacker says that France only kept Laos for the opium - which is probably true. French is the second language so all government signs are written in Lao and French. (Lucky for us English is the language of tourism.) The bakeries all sell baguettes and French bread so we've had some awesome sandwiches. We have had some more traditional Laos meals as well. They don't use chopsticks, but instead serve up sticky rice in little wicker baskets. You form a ball of rice and dip it in your food. It really is quite fun.
Yesterday afternoon, we went to the Kuangsi Waterfall with all of our new friends from the slow boat. Laura the Canadian was happy to not be the only Canadian in a group of English. We climbed into the back of a cab truck and motored down a gravel road for 29 kilometers. When we got off and walked the path, we saw the most stunning waterfall ever. It was a series of long tall cascades with three main tiers plunging through the rain forest with mountains all around. We stood open mouthed at the bottom before making our ascent up the slippery rocks to the top. The rain started to fall as we climbed, drenching us all, and making everything a little slipperier.
At the top, we could look out at the entire canyon and see orange robed monks playing in the pool near the top. Despite the rain, we joined them. Gregg enjoyed his first rock jumping experience and quickly plunged into the blue pool. It is so hard to describe. It was my most magical waterfall experience. We could lean over the edge of the pool and look way down at the cascades and pools below us. I could have stayed there forever.
We had dinner by the river and then joined the slow boat crowd at Le Tam Tam. En route, we were walking through the market when it started to rain. We knew it was raining before we felt it because all the vendors grabbed their wares off the ground and started running. Soon, we too were running in the rain. We arrived at Le Tam Tam a little wet. Tim, a Dutch guy, told Gregg stories about helping to clean up the Phi Phi islands after the Tsunami. Everyone was there - even Wolverine and the Austrians - and planned to participate in some karaoke. However, Gregg and I broke ourselves away from the group in favor of a more authentic Lao experience.
Muongswa by Night - the Laos disco. We were the only white people there. We entered through red padded doors into a dark room with disco lights and a live band that played the occasional English song like Suzie Q. Young and old danced together out on the floor with the flashing lights and blacklights. They seemed to love a dance where everyone walks in a circle rotating their wrists. I participated in Laos line dance. I got a few looks. When the band took a break, the place erupted into Laos techno dance party. The old people didn't sit down but kept grooving to the music. It was awesome and hilarious. I tried to dance with them, but I dance too fast. They operate at half the speed I do.
Today, we went to the Palace museum. A former residence of the kings from the 20th century has been made into a museum. We wandered through reception rooms and a throne room and peaked at some bedrooms. The throne room was ornate with a glass mosaic on the walls depicting Laos folk tales. The reception room housed gifts to Laos from other nations. The bedrooms were surprisingly simple with white walls and sparse furniture. After the museum, we hiked up the 329 steps to the top of Mt. Phousi in the middle of Luang Prabang. The wats aren't too interesting there, but the view of the Mekong to the west and the valley to the east was amazing. Palm trees and red roofs fill the basin up the green hills. We saw an old Russian anti-aircraft gun. Uncle Vic would have been fascinated. Afterwards, we rented bicycles and wandered around town. We've seen the sights here now so we have only one thing left to do: chill. That seems to be what most people do here.
We've been here long enough that we can now recognize when people are new off the boat. Time seems to stand still here. In a few hours, we'll board a "VIP" air con bus for Vang Vien. We'll see how "VIP" and how "Air Con" it is.
Monday, May 02, 2005
The Slow Boat to LP Bang
Well, since we last wrote, we have logged a lot of hours travelling. Unfortunately, we did not leave Chiang Mai without saying goodbye to our friend at the guesthouse. At least we won't have to see him again.
Our minibus from Chiang Mai was full of English people. (A minibus is really a minivan with an extra seat.) They were all English except us. There was a guy who had found a decapitated wooden duck on Ko Toa. He stuck the head back on and carried it around with him. His buddy had a laptop and they all listened to Shakirah and Christina Aguilera and other inane music. They were nice people, but definitely had different tastes than us. Most of the people we've met are from the UK and they seem to enjoy sitting around talking about BBC television shows we've never heard of. The drive took us through a mountainous national park, past Chiang Rai and to the plains of the north where the fields are surrounded by mountains. Little old woman toiled in the sun wearing big brimmed hats.
We arrived in Chiang Khong as the sun was setting and caught our first glimpse of the sleepy Mekong river and the banks of Laos on the other side. We scored a room for 80 baht. The room felt like we were camping at a cheap cabin somewhere. There is no night life in this town except for a few bars catering to foreign tourists. In these establishments, the nightlife consists of showing pirated movies. We watched Constantine (weird, didn't like it) and Million Dollar Baby (didn't like the ending). I definitely got my fill of movies for a while. It was nice in the grass roofed bar, sitting on a bench as the rain beat down outside. We heard the loudest crack of thunder ever.
Once in Chiang Khong, we had to make an important decision: which boat to take to Luang Prabang. The fast boat is a little costlier, lasting about six hours in a kamikaze long boat with an oversized motor. Crash helmets are provided, but you need your own ear plugs for the deafening roar and a ton of sunscreen because there's no shade. Reports say it's unsafe. The other option is the slow boat, a mind numbing two day venture with an overnight in a tiny town. The seats are not too comfortable and at every village they stop to add more people, and add more plastic chairs if needed. But it is covered and fairly safe. Both sound rather hellish.
After being ferried across the river to Laos customs and immigration, we took the slow boat. Gregg and I shared a rickety wooden seat only big enough for one western bum. Throughout the first cramped and uncomfortable day, we met some interesting people.First, there was drunk lady. She had drunk a few vodka and orange juices before we took off. We watched her lapse into alcoholic coma. I'm sure the trip seemed fast for her.Then there was Wolverine. He looked like a Scandinavian X-Men character with chops, facial piercings, and long blond hair. His girlfriend looked Israeli and they were quite nice.Gregg made friends with a Swedish guy fresh out of the army. They were both tired though and didn't have too much to say. We met our first Canadian of the trip, a girl named Laura from Edmonton. And once again, there were tons of English. And an overly talkative Kiwi couple.
But of the sixty people aboard, our favorites were the Austrians. There was "Sonny" - the dreadlock guy with the Chinese girlfriend and "Weed Wacker" a guy with huge sunglasses who looked like a weed wacker styled his hair. They had Thai and Laos beer, a couple coolers of ice and packs of big cigarettes. They rolled a few joints as well. They were unaffected by the alcohol and proved to be quite entertaining through the whole ordeal.
We stayed overnight in Pakbeng, which Gregg calls "Nowhere, Laos". It's only accessible by boat and I think tourism is the main source of their income. One dollar US is 10 000 kip so we paid about 30 000 for a meal. I have a huge stack of bills and it's only worth about fifty bucks.
Today, we had a better boat. We had seats instead of benches and I didn't feel like they were going to collapse under us. When we got to our seats at 8 AM, not too many people were there yet. Heinrich was sitting there doing Calculus and writing stuff about matrices. He didn't say anything all day long.
The scenery was gorgeous. Green green hills and crazy rock formations by the muddy water. There were little villages and huts at the river's edge and children playing in the water would dance and wave at us. Cows would continue their grazing and fishermen would labor with their nets affixed to bamboo poles. The landscape got more rugged today with sheer rock cliffs and jagged peaks rising into the blue sky. This country definitely is beautiful. We saw an elephant hauling logs off of a boat by the river.
And now we are in Luang Prabang - quite thankful to be off that little boat. Laos used to be a French colony and some of the feel has survived here. I look forward to exploring it tomorrow.
Our minibus from Chiang Mai was full of English people. (A minibus is really a minivan with an extra seat.) They were all English except us. There was a guy who had found a decapitated wooden duck on Ko Toa. He stuck the head back on and carried it around with him. His buddy had a laptop and they all listened to Shakirah and Christina Aguilera and other inane music. They were nice people, but definitely had different tastes than us. Most of the people we've met are from the UK and they seem to enjoy sitting around talking about BBC television shows we've never heard of. The drive took us through a mountainous national park, past Chiang Rai and to the plains of the north where the fields are surrounded by mountains. Little old woman toiled in the sun wearing big brimmed hats.
We arrived in Chiang Khong as the sun was setting and caught our first glimpse of the sleepy Mekong river and the banks of Laos on the other side. We scored a room for 80 baht. The room felt like we were camping at a cheap cabin somewhere. There is no night life in this town except for a few bars catering to foreign tourists. In these establishments, the nightlife consists of showing pirated movies. We watched Constantine (weird, didn't like it) and Million Dollar Baby (didn't like the ending). I definitely got my fill of movies for a while. It was nice in the grass roofed bar, sitting on a bench as the rain beat down outside. We heard the loudest crack of thunder ever.
Once in Chiang Khong, we had to make an important decision: which boat to take to Luang Prabang. The fast boat is a little costlier, lasting about six hours in a kamikaze long boat with an oversized motor. Crash helmets are provided, but you need your own ear plugs for the deafening roar and a ton of sunscreen because there's no shade. Reports say it's unsafe. The other option is the slow boat, a mind numbing two day venture with an overnight in a tiny town. The seats are not too comfortable and at every village they stop to add more people, and add more plastic chairs if needed. But it is covered and fairly safe. Both sound rather hellish.
After being ferried across the river to Laos customs and immigration, we took the slow boat. Gregg and I shared a rickety wooden seat only big enough for one western bum. Throughout the first cramped and uncomfortable day, we met some interesting people.First, there was drunk lady. She had drunk a few vodka and orange juices before we took off. We watched her lapse into alcoholic coma. I'm sure the trip seemed fast for her.Then there was Wolverine. He looked like a Scandinavian X-Men character with chops, facial piercings, and long blond hair. His girlfriend looked Israeli and they were quite nice.Gregg made friends with a Swedish guy fresh out of the army. They were both tired though and didn't have too much to say. We met our first Canadian of the trip, a girl named Laura from Edmonton. And once again, there were tons of English. And an overly talkative Kiwi couple.
But of the sixty people aboard, our favorites were the Austrians. There was "Sonny" - the dreadlock guy with the Chinese girlfriend and "Weed Wacker" a guy with huge sunglasses who looked like a weed wacker styled his hair. They had Thai and Laos beer, a couple coolers of ice and packs of big cigarettes. They rolled a few joints as well. They were unaffected by the alcohol and proved to be quite entertaining through the whole ordeal.
We stayed overnight in Pakbeng, which Gregg calls "Nowhere, Laos". It's only accessible by boat and I think tourism is the main source of their income. One dollar US is 10 000 kip so we paid about 30 000 for a meal. I have a huge stack of bills and it's only worth about fifty bucks.
Today, we had a better boat. We had seats instead of benches and I didn't feel like they were going to collapse under us. When we got to our seats at 8 AM, not too many people were there yet. Heinrich was sitting there doing Calculus and writing stuff about matrices. He didn't say anything all day long.
The scenery was gorgeous. Green green hills and crazy rock formations by the muddy water. There were little villages and huts at the river's edge and children playing in the water would dance and wave at us. Cows would continue their grazing and fishermen would labor with their nets affixed to bamboo poles. The landscape got more rugged today with sheer rock cliffs and jagged peaks rising into the blue sky. This country definitely is beautiful. We saw an elephant hauling logs off of a boat by the river.
And now we are in Luang Prabang - quite thankful to be off that little boat. Laos used to be a French colony and some of the feel has survived here. I look forward to exploring it tomorrow.
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