A rooster stood on the front step of our Hanoi, Vietnam hotel as we were leaving for dinner. I asked Steve to go out first, as sometimes roosters can be aggressive, and you never know. But this rooster just moved aside as we passed. All was well.
The Old Quarter
Just in front of hotel
Looking left from the hotel
We are in the “Old Quarter” of the city. It’s a bustling, chaotic, colorful, loud, active, crazy place to be spending 10 days. I thought the traffic in Bangkok was impossible, but little did I know it could get even worse.
The Pep Talk
I have to give myself a mini pep talk every time we leave our hotel for the streets of Hanoi. “It will be ok. You will (probably) not get hit by a motor scooter, motorcycle, or bicycle. It’s unlikely you will get burned by a red hot muffler grazing your calf as it veers within a mere inch or two of you, if you keep moving. Your lungs will not explode from the thick exhaust fumes you are breathing in. Just remember that once you start crossing a street, you must keep moving at a steady pace and not look at the onslaught of vehicles, large and small, coming straight for you, often from multiple directions. If you look, your pace may falter, which is when you are most likely to hesitate and get creamed.”
Yes, it’s a lot to remember, but it’s my daily mantra in Hanoi. And it’s not relaxing. At all.
The Chaos
But it is kind of amazing. The city exudes energy. People cooking in woks on the side of the street, the nonstop traffic, the chaos of constantly honking horns, bright lights and signage, dozens of people eating while hunched down on tiny stools in the street, and ladies carrying baskets full of freshly made donuts (on a stick) for sale, having a hard time taking “no” for an answer.
Donut On A Stick
The donut ladies deserve a special shout-out. I must say they are persistent, cunning, and annoying, but in the end most have a genuine, sincere smile, whether you buy from them or not.
Like this, but carrying donuts
While eating lunch or dinner, typically at an outdoor table, they walk by carrying their donuts in two hanging baskets balanced on each end of a stick across their shoulder. At first it’s a cool look, from the perspective of a foreigner. “Wow, isn’t that interesting? Did you see how that woman is carrying her donuts?” But then it all starts to unravel as the donut ladies get more aggressive.
And they do get aggressive. We started spotting them from afar. “Oh no, it’s a donut lady up ahead. Quick, move to the other side of the street.” But, if you’ve read above, a quick move across the street is never a good, or easy, option. Sometimes they hit me (probably more like a double tap), with the end of their donut stick as I’m walking by. That really irritates me, as I don’t want donut grease smeared on my limited shirts, unless of course I have the pleasure of eating said donut. A walk-by “donuting” is never welcome.
Maneuvering in Hanoi
Almost every sidewalk is used as a parking lot, housing tightly packed motorcycles at just the right angle and perfectly ordered, so as not to waste an inch of space. This forces pedestrians to walk in the street.
Trust is an important factor in making your way on foot through Hanoi. Most people walk with the traffic, and you just have to have faith that the myriad vehicles coming up behind you will maneuver and miss you. It seems to work for the locals, and we cross our fingers and do like they do.
60 inch TV?
Egg scooter from behind
A ladder on the move
We see motor scooters carrying crazy things, but if it’s your only option, you make do. A ladder, a huge flatscreen Sony TV, dozens and dozens of fresh eggs, and entire families of three or more top the list, so far. I’m sure we’ll have more to add before we’re out of here.
Vietnam Military Museum
We visited the Vietnam Military Museum yesterday morning. Seeing the “American War”, as it’s known here in Vietnam, through Vietnam’s lens, was interesting. From their perspective, it’s the last chapter in a thousand year struggle for independence for the Vietnamese.
Hoan Kiem Lake
In a break from the hectic streets, we made our way to Hoan Kiem Lake, just outside of Hanoi’s Old Quarter. It reminded me of Green Lake, back home in Seattle.
No Vehicles Allowed
Once there, we realized there was some kind of celebration going on and the city had closed several major streets to vehicle traffic. It was liberating to walk freely in the wide, tree lined streets without threat of injury or worse.
Families strolled along, children ran and twirled, bubbles were in the air, and the occasional street musician played. It was a lovely afternoon.
English Speakers Wanted
As we made our way around the packed walkways near the lake, we were stopped three times by small groups of children with their English teachers, asking for a few minutes of our time to practice speaking English. It was a fun opportunity to interact with local kids, and we had good chats. I shared some pictures from home. One in particular, of our house covered in snow, got lots of oooh’s and ahhhh’s. It’s hard to think of winter at home when we’re in this humid, hot part of the world.
Thanksgiving
Today is November 28th, Thanksgiving Day, on our side of the world. Back home it’s still Wednesday, the 27th. I’m sure you’re getting your turkey, or vegan substitute, ready for your Thanksgiving feast.
So many flowers for sale
flowers….
We’ll be celebrating by attending a traditional Vietnamese water puppet show. Not what one typically associates with Thanksgiving, but we’re excited to check it out.
Happy Thanksgiving to all those back home. We’ll miss not seeing you this holiday!
Our first morning in Vietnam, during breakfast with a view of St. Joseph’s Cathedral, I said “Cảm Ơn Bạn” as the waitress set down my coffee. She answered with a curt “Yep”, which I found strange. Turns out I may have just told her to “shut up”. And, regrettably, I may have told multiple people all over Vietnam to “shut up”, as well. Oh my. I’m not off to a great start.
And to make matters worse, I just learned that my Vietnamese rendition of “hello” means , “I’d like more soup”. Hmmmm…no wonder I’m not getting those delighted looks from locals, as I attempt to use the native language, like I did in Thailand. Speaking in Vietnamese, a slight inflection one way or another makes a word have an entirely different meaning. Darn.
Duc, The Tour Guide
My newfound insights into the complexities of the Vietnamese language came from our friendly tour guide , Duc (pronounced roughly “Dook”). We had booked a 24 hour excursion from Hanoi to Halong Bay on Vega Tours.
Our Vega Boat
I’d read a lot about the thousands of scams and crummy tour outfits sprinkled all over Hanoi, and knew it was important to research before committing. I found lots of glowing reviews online about Vega, so we walked through Hanoi’s insanely busy streets to find the Vega main office and book our tour for the next Sunday.
Coffee, A Must
The Vega bus was scheduled to pick us up at 7:30 am, so we checked the hours of a little coffee shop just down the alley from our Airbnb, An Cafe, the night before. They open at 7:30, so we hoped our ride would be just a little late so we’d have time for a coffee while we waited with our backpacks on the bustling street.
An Cafe was shut up tight (most storefronts have a metal garage door that is pulled down when they’re not open). It looked like we were out of luck, but there was another option. Right across the small alley we’d come down from our Airbnb was a tiny local coffee vendor.
Locals Only
His establishment was the type for locals. There’s kind of an understanding, or an unwritten rule, that only the locals eat and drink at certain venues. Or maybe, more likely, it’s that the foreigners, us included, don’t feel quite comfortable enough to join in the throngs of locals, all sitting on the sidewalk on tiny, plastic stools, most often eating soup or drinking coffee. Let me take a minute to paint a picture of this scene, found multiple times on every street in Hanoi.
The One-Man Operation
Firstly, at this establishment, the stools are a soft baby blue, the kind of color that quickly shows dirt and wear. The plastic stools are akin to the tiny, maybe 8” long by 6” wide, stools so often used in bathrooms all over the U.S, so a toddler can reach the bathroom sink. They stand about 10” high and are made from thin, cheap plastic.
Little blue stools full of customers
We looked over at the coffee “shop”. Yes, coffee trumped any hesitation we had about trying out this one-man operation. The proprietor sat at an old, beat-up office desk, set sideways on the cement floor of his shop. The shop was so small that his desk and chair, and only one customer, could fit inside, but nothing more. Supplies and junk were scattered in the nooks and crannies behind and to the side of the desk, and there appeared to be no lighting.
The Seats of Honor
His one and only customer, perched on one of the many plastic stools on the sidewalk immediately in front of the shop, noticed we were en route. He immediately jumped up and grabbed the rare, larger (almost adult size) red plastic chair, with arms and a back, and moved it in place, gesturing warmly for Steve to sit in this place of prominence. Then he quickly maneuvered to the only other red plastic chair several feet away and motioned for me to sit. I honestly hadn’t even noticed the red chairs sitting on the side of the dozens of blue plastic stools, scattered willy-nilly all over the sidewalk. We were honored to accept his generous hospitality.
Vietnamese Coffee
Vietnamese coffee with sweetened condensed milk – yum
I walked in to the shopkeeper at his desk, to order my coffee, Vietnamese style. He picked up an old coke plastic bottle, which was partially full of a thick, dark liquid. It reminded me of a slightly thinned molasses. He poured a few inches worth into a small, clear glass, followed by a generous portion of sweetened condensed milk from an open can on his desk (this is the true Vietnamese coffee). He then used his left hand to reach into a small ice chest that was mostly filled with melted ice, using his hand to strain out a few pieces that would still qualify as chunks, and dropped them into my glass.
Ok, then. I’ll assume that he just washed his hands, and that the used coke bottle he’s storing his brew in isn’t too old and disgusting. Well, the jokes on me because that coffee was by far the best I’ve tasted so far in SE Asia, and the cheapest too (.86 cents). Kudos to the small guy.
With our coffee safely consumed, we were ready for our excursion.
The Tour
Deluxe Room
Top Observation Deck
Our Halong Bay tour included a memorable 24 hours on a lovely, small boat with 14 other tourists, our guide, Duc, and the cooks and crew.
Kayaking
First Cave
Traveling with us were a Chinese family consisting of a mom and dad, two boys (about 3.5 and 10), a grandma, and a sister, a french couple, a brother and sister Aussie’s in their 20’s, two young British women in their 20’s, and two recently graduated PhD’s from Stanford (in Neuro-Biology). One was moving on to a post-doc at Princeton to study how flies make decisions, specifically how they decide what fly to mate with. Hmmm…interesting. I’ll never look at flies the same way again.
Kayaking in Choppy Waters
We spent our first afternoon kayaking in Bai Tu Long Bay. At first it was a bit choppy, but we managed.
We could see a beautiful sandy opening ahead in the limestone island we were approaching.
Swimming beach – like a dream setting
We docked our kayaks and walked through a cave. When we came out the other side, we saw an incredibly picturesque beach right out of a dream. We stayed for a while and swam. So lovely.
Rich Tourists Creating Waves
Next we kayaked towards another cave. We were now contending with not only the choppy waters, but private speed boats, full of presumably rich tourists, whizzing by us on all sides. Duc told us to take the large wakes to the side of the kayak, rather than head on. So every time a giant wake was coming, we did our best to maneuver to take it sideways, but that didn’t always work out so well (there were too many coming at us from different angles). It was a little stressful.
Fun kayaking
My kayak, full-up
Half way over to the cave, my end of the kayak (the bow), was filled to the brim with water. At that point I stopped caring (and stressing) when a speed boat came by, they could do no more damage than they already had. And Steve assured me we wouldn’t sink. And we didn’t.
Cave #2
Looking down at our kayaks
Duc helped us pull our kayaks up to shore of cave #2. The cave was large and impressive. Unfortunately we stayed a little too long for my comfort, through dusk. As the light waned, I had the sudden realization that the high pitched chirping I was hearing were bats. Lots and lots of bats.
Bats and More Bats
The bat cave
I looked up and bats were everywhere. I’ve seen an occasional bat at my home near Seattle at dusk, but I’m talking hundreds of bats, pitching and erratically dodging and dipping with no rhyme or reason. Every bad movie I’ve ever seen of a bat swooping into the damsel’s updo flashed before my eyes. I’ll admit I got a little panicky. Steve was surprised at my reaction, ”I didn’t know you had a fear of bats”, he calmly said. Yeah, neither did I.
The bat cave (again)
Luckily we made it out unscathed and bat-free. I can still hear that loud, high pitched chirping. I have a slight kink in my neck from my unnatural posture ducking down as low as possible, holding a hand defensively over my head, while exiting the cave and boarding our kayaks.
Kayaking back to the starting point, we caught an incredible sunset. Finally the bay was calm and glassy.
Pristine waters at days end
Caught the sunset
Days End
Approaching our boat after a day of kayaking
After dinner, our boat made its way to the edge of Halong Bay, which we would visit the next day.
An Early Start
We woke at 5:40 am to catch the sunrise, and it was a beauty. We were floating in a serene, calm bay under a crystal clear sky. You could even see a sliver of the moon in the pink and slowly brightening sky.
Sunrise day #2
Vega’s boats head out very early in order to beat the masses of crowds. Duc told us that 20,000 tourists visit Halong Bay each and every day, regardless of the time of year. There is no down-time. Twenty thousand a day!
Hang Sung Sot Cave
We were the first to arrive at Hang Sung Sot cave, a popular, gigantic cave. It was simply breathtaking walking through the three caverns, gawking at the stalagmite formed by thousands of years of rainwater making its way through the soft limestone.
Approaching the cave
Roof of the cave
The ceilings were equally impressive, and looked like the surface of the moon. Duc explained that the limestone formations were once all under the sea, and the lapping waves had formed the ceilings smooth, dimpled appearance.
400 Stairs Island
Ti Top Island
We then boated over to Ti Top island that has a lookout point at the tippy top. Problem is, there’s 400+ stairs (not to code, per Steve) to get to the view.
My “private” beach
After our trip through the cave, which entailed ascending and descending probably 200 stairs (also not to code), I opted to rent a lovely wooden beach lounger on the almost secluded island beach in the sunshine, and hold down the fort, rather than add 400 more stairs to my day. I did send my camera up the mountain (with Steve), so it was a win-win. Yeah, good choice.
Back to Hanoi
It was sad saying goodbye to Duc and our newfound friends. Duc was so funny. He had a great deadpan sense of humor that we really appreciated. He also was quite informative.
It wasn’t until the very last of our bus ride back to Hanoi, at the end of our trip, that I thought of double-checking my Vietnamese pronunciation for “Hello” and “Thank you” with Duc.
It was pretty disheartening to learn I’d been telling people to “shut-up” and asking for more soup, when all I wanted to do was show them I had an appreciation for their language. Oh well, I had the best of intentions. For now I’ll stick with “Thank you” and “Hello”. Those seem to work too.
Our bus to Chiang Saen was an hour late, so when it finally did show up, we were very happy (and relieved) to climb aboard. We settled in for our 6 to 7 hour bus ride that would take us to our destination, in the far north of Thailand. Chiang Saen is about 8 miles south of the infamous “Golden Triangle”, where the countries of Burma, Thailand, and Laos meet. It’s a sleepy, rural town, along the Mekong River, and is the site of a former Thai kingdom believed to date back to the 7th century.
Heading north, the bus stopped just after the two hour point at a little Thai open air food court / bus stop, complete with bathrooms.
First Stop
For such a tiny bus stop along a rural road in the middle of nowhere in Thailand, this bathroom sure did have a lot of stalls. There were probably fifteen. And I checked every one of them, pleading to God or Buddha or whoever might be tuned in for just one sit down toilet. Nope. Nada. All pit toilets.
Pit Toilet Defined
The Thai pit toilets I’ve encountered to date are white porcelain, raised maybe 8 to 10 inches off the floor. The toilet design includes two horizontal surfaces, one on each side of the hole (or pit). These flat surfaces, about the size and shape of a person’s foot, have a tread of sorts, presumably to keep the user from slipping. But the treads are smooth porcelain, and most often wet (let’s not go there), which, as far as I can tell, completely defeats the purpose of having treads. The smooth tread gives the user a false sense of security, as well as limiting the user’s stance.
Just Do It
I stared at my one and only option, the pit toilet. I didn’t have much time, since the bus would be leaving soon. The slightly elevated aspect of the pit toilet was perplexing, since it seemed to unnecessarily complicate things. I carefully placed my right foot in place, checking for slippage potential. It seemed alright, so I brought my other foot up. Now I was fully committed.
The affected foot & sandal
Then it happened. I peed on my foot. Just a little, and technically it was on my right heel and the back of my sandal. The one size fits all pit toilet, with a fixed stance (take it or leave it), obviously didn’t work for me.
Maybe with more practice I’ll get the hang of it. I’ll keep you posted.
The Night Arrival
After cleaning myself up as best I could, I returned to the bus and told Steve what happened. He looked at me, a little horrified, and I started laughing (somewhat hysterically). Oh well, these things happen. We settled back in and continued on towards our final destination, Chiang Saen.
Main Street
We’re in town, but it’s deserted
It was night when we entered town, around 7 pm, driving down the main street. We were wondering where the bus station would be in relation to our hotel.
Suddenly the bus pulled over and stopped. We were told this was the Chiang Saen stop, so we got off.
A small island of night activity in Chiang Saen
There was no bus station in sight, only a bus curb. We stood, looking very conspicuous, two tall white people standing on the side of the road under a street lamp, wearing Osprey backpacks (note: yes, in Thailand I’m considered tall). There was not a taxi or tuk tuk in sight, in fact, there weren’t even any cars in sight.
There was a little hub of lights and activity across the street and a block down. Some food stalls were still serving locals. Other than that, the town was deserted.
The Rescue Car
I called our hotel, and even though the woman on the phone spoke very little English, and I could barely hear her, somehow we communicated and she sent a car to pick us up. While we waited, two different local men at the food carts came over and offered us help. Neither man spoke English, but it was apparent they had noticed us (I wonder how they noticed us?), and we looked out of place (to say the least).
One even offered information about a hotel around the corner where we could stay for about $5 a night. It was so nice of them to go out of their way to try to help us. I shouldn’t have been surprised, we’ve found many Thai to be very helpful and genuinely caring.
Hunger Wins Out
Just crickets in every direction
It had been a long day, and we were hungry. After checking in at our hotel we walked into town, about a ten to fifteen minute walk. It was strange and uncomfortable walking through the deserted, quiet, suburban streets, after spending the past few weeks walking the intense, chaotic streets of Bangkok and Chiang Mai. All we could see were the long, empty streets illuminated by fluorescent street lights. All we could hear were crickets.
Suburbia
A gigantic leaf in the sidewalk
We walked by shacks, average homes, and even one section of beautiful, fairly large gated homes with gorgeous, small yards full of flowering bougainvillea. There were stray dogs everywhere, mostly large dogs, just like in other parts of Thailand. We startled one sleeping dog, which completely undid me, since I recently was talking about the horrors of getting a dog bite and having to deal with rabies treatments with a new friend we met in Chiang Mai, Gretta from Australia (shout out to Gretta!). Thankfully the dogs left us alone.
Thai Restaurant Protocol
We sat at a small, outdoor restaurant, called Friendship, on the main drag across from the Mekong River. There was a live band playing, singing in English. Their pronunciation was just slightly off, but the live music was a real treat.
The Menu
Our server handed each of us the multi-page menu, and then stood, staring at us. It’s a bit awkward, but we’ve encountered this behavior at other Thai restaurants too. We’re actually getting used to it, and at least we don’t have to wait for the server to return once we’ve decided, since they’ve never left.
There are several other interesting differences (from western restaurants) at Thai restaurants.
Good To Know
Firstly, the table setting does not include napkins, but instead there’s a Kleenex type box with pop up tissues on each table.
Secondly, at many restaurants, including Friendship in Chiang Saen, there’s a small, wooden, free standing platform, a few inches lower than the table surface, at the end of each table. I honestly thought it was a high chair, and was surprised to see one at each and every table. Now I know better. The little platform is a serving tray of sorts, where the server puts your drinks, ice, utensils, etc. It saves room on the table and the server doesn’t have to reach over the seated guests. It’s pretty ingenious.
And thirdly, in Thailand they bring out the food you’ve ordered as it’s cooked, in whatever order that might be. You and your dinner companion may end up eating at different times, and you might get your appetizer at the end of the meal, but everything is always hot and fresh.
Rickety, but Functional
Our bikes on day #1
We borrowed the hotel’s rusty, old bicycles several times during our three-day stay. Each bike had a metal basket. Mine also had a bell (that didn’t work), and a light (that didn’t work), and a flat padded seat just behind my seat, in case I made a friend who wanted to join us.
We visited ornate gold & silver adorned Wats (Buddhist Temples), went into town for meals, rode along the ancient city wall and the mighty Mekong River, and just tooled around. Chiang Saen is quite picturesque.
The Ruins
Most wats we’ve visited in the cities are refurbished, since they are a century or more old, but Chiang Saen’s wats are in “as-is” condition .
We saw tons of stupas (huge domed shaped structure), gold and silver multi-headed dragons, Buddhas of all sizes, and glittering golden wats (temples) as we bicycled along the backstreet lanes in town.
Many of the stupas are covered in moss and decaying, which, in my opinion, adds to their charm.
The Orange Moon
In the evening, a dozen or so street food vendors set up makeshift restaurants, including outdoor kitchens, along the Mekong river front. They cover the sidewalk in woven mats, creating a large “floor” for their patrons to sit on at low tables. Per custom, we took our shoes off before walking on the mat covered area.
We had a delicious meal, followed by a breathtaking, bright orange moon rising over the Mekong.
On the bike ride back to the hotel, the moon had risen even higher into the sky. It had lost it’s orange glow, but was as stunning as ever.
Street Markets
We happened upon two lively street markets while in Chiang Saen. One was a permanent market in town on the main street.
The other we encountered on our last night while out on an early evening bike ride. The Thursday night market (I’ll call it) occupied a huge field filled with food, vegetable and fruit vendors. And the entire back half of the field were clothing vendors.
Half the town’s population must have been at the market, purchasing their fresh fruit and veggies, picking up dinner for the family, or looking for that needed pair of pants – all in what was an empty field that morning.
The Hall of Opium Museum
Chiang Saen sits about 8 miles south of the very touristy Golden Triangle area, but it remains mostly tourist free. One day we took a Songthaew (pronounced Song-Tail), a converted pick-up truck with two rows of back benches, and the only public transportation in the area, up to the Hall of Opium Museum, a bit north of the Golden Triangle area.
The museum was very impressive, with a variety of mediums to help convey the complex and extensive history of the opium trade. It was well worth seeing.
Just Wait on the Highway
When leaving the somewhat remote museum, we were told by museum workers to go stand out on the highway and wait for a Songthaew. We stood for a few minutes, but looked up the practically deserted highway and decided it might be best to start walking.
Wild Boars, Tigers, and Tarantulas, oh my!
We headed towards the Golden Triangle area and civilization, wondering if there were wild boar, tigers, or tarantulas lying in wait for unsuspecting tourists walking along a lonely highway in the jungles of northern Thailand.
Looking across at Myanmar
Actually, it was a great opportunity to get a closer look at a beautiful part of Thailand while other tourists whizzed by us with their hired drivers in their air conditioned Toyota vans.
The views over the jungle terrain across to Myanmar were gorgeous.
We made it back to Chiang Saen unscathed and ate a feast of street food we picked up in town, where the Songthaew had dropped us off. A great end to a great day.
The Language Barrier
For the first time on our SE Asian adventures, we encountered significant language challenges here in Chiang Saen.
Some communication highlights:
Check-In
The manager had memorized her check-in information, but beyond that, when I asked any question, she said some words that didn’t make sense (in English), smiled, and laughed.
The Pool
Heading to the pool one afternoon, I stopped in and saw the cook at the lobby desk (I’ll call her the cook, since she made our breakfast each morning and also worked in reception). I asked if they supplied pool towels. Blank look. I pantomimed a towel and pointed in the direction of the pool. Just as the manager had, the cook started laughing a hearty, full laugh. Right in my face. We held eyes for a few moments, then I turned and left the lobby. I guess I had my answer. I’d be using my REI travel towel at the pool.
T.P.
Another time I went to the front desk to ask for more toilet paper, as we were running quite low. The cook was there. I knew I was in trouble. I asked for a toilet paper roll. Blank look. I said “toilet”, then made the shape of a toilet roll with my hands. This wasn’t working, and I thought about giving up, but the alternative wasn’t pretty, so I had to use extreme measures.
I pointed to my behind. Still a blank look. Nothing registered. In the end (excuse the pun), I made my way around the counter so the cook could see my entire body, including below the waist. I proceeded to mimic sitting on an imaginary toilet, then wiping my butt with imaginary toilet paper. It was humiliating, but it worked.
Logistics
Our rickety bus to Chiang Rai
Since there was no bus station in town, and nothing helpful online, we asked at the hotel lobby for information on how to get a bus from Chiang Saen to Chiang Mai the next day. The cook and some random woman that was in the lobby (I think the cook’s friend) were trying their best to help us.
They started by getting up on a chair and taking the lobby wall clock off the wall. Then there was lots of pointing at the clock, and looking up to see if we understood, which we didn’t.
Next they talked very slowly to us in Thai (with more pointing at the clock), slowly repeating what was said, in case we might suddenly understand Thai on the second pass. We didn’t.
Finally, with the help of google translate, some more clock pointing, and some wild gesturing, we finally were somewhat sure we had things set.
Hopefully there’d be a tuk tuk to pick us up at 8 am the next morning, that would take us to some kind of bus out of town. Good enough for us.
My Thai
I know three words/ phrases in Thai, and they go a long way here.
I’ll type them phonetically, since that’s how I remember them. I’ve gotten pretty good at whipping them out, almost always using the right word at the right time.
Saw-wa-dee-kaaaaa: means hello, or greetings.
Cob-koon-kaaaaa: means thank you
My-pen-rye: means no worries , or no problem
I also use the multipurpose word, kaaaa. It’s like an acknowledgement, or saying “ok”.
That’s the extent of my Thai language abilities, but I apparently do a spot-on pantomime of someone wiping their butt, so there’s that. :0
I’ve never given elephants a lot of thought, except when I was decorating my second son’s room before he was born. I carefully put up his jungle themed wall border, half way up the wall (so he could see it). It was filled with elephants, which may have sparked his elephant obsession as a child.
Other than that, I haven’t ever been too elephant obsessed myself. I, of course, have been aware and saddened by the fact that these very wise, kind, and loving animals have been treated so cruelly throughout history, and that their numbers are dwindling due to habitat loss.
An Early Start
Yesterday all that changed. My newfound passion, love, and respect for elephants has been born.
Our all-day excursion with Elephant Jungle Sanctuary started at 8 am. We drove in the back of a small pick up truck, outfitted with two barely padded, bright blue bench seats, running perpendicular to the truck’s cab.
We picked up our truck-mates. One young couple was from California, San Mateo (shout out to my mom and dad’s home town) and Mountain View (where Steve and I had our first apartment together), respectively. The other young couple was from Krakow, Poland.
The Drive
Our Poland Car-Mates
Our California Car-Mates
Our drive was about 1.5 hours in total, through Chiang Mai, then the “suburbs”, and then the rolling countryside. When we hit the highway, the six of us in the back of the rickety truck suddenly bonded. The driver floored it, driving way too fast for comfort. We looked at each other with wide-eyes, grinning, and giggling (nervously). We rationalized our situation, agreeing it was all a part of the experience, which I suppose is true, and, considering we didn’t have a lot of choice at this point, we sat back and enjoyed the ride and the wind in our hair.
Our view from the truck
After climbing high into the mountains we turned off the paved road onto a winding and steep downhill facing dirt road, barely wide enough for the trucks wheels. We hit areas where the road was crumbling, and the wheels would slip, just a bit. Some of the turns were so tight that I’d close my eyes so I wouldn’t see the drop off just below the side of the truck.
Into the Valley
The Valley, and the mud pit
Down, down, down we went, through the trees into the beautiful valley below. We parked.
We were still up the hill a bit from the camp and the valley floor.
Hello Elephants!
I hopped out of the truck (ok, full disclosure, that was a very generous description of my disembarkation. With my bad knee, it was more like I awkwardly crawled out of the truck). From where we stood, we had a birds eye view of the valley and camp.
We stood gasping, pointing, and staring at the maybe 10 elephants below us clustered in two family groups. We had made it.
A Stunning Setting
The Elephant Jungle Sanctuary Camp was a dream setting. Set remotely in the mountains of northern Thailand, where it is green and lush with expansive vistas. Add in a meandering river, with a waterfall or two thrown in, complete with calm pools for swimming. I couldn’t have dreamed up a more beautiful setting to learn about and fall in love with the elephants.
The Three Warnings
By far the best part of the day was joining the elephants in their giant mud pit.
Seriously, it was crazy. And it all started with three warnings.
The First Warning
Firstly, our host told us to only wear or bring waterproof items, or items that can be washed, into the mud pit.
The speaker tried to drive home his point, in his thick Thai accent, over and over, even citing statistics. Twenty one cell phones, fifteen pairs of sunglasses, and multiple cameras now call the bottom of the mud pit home. And that’s just from the last few months. He gave example after example of people who didn’t heed his warning, complete with impersonations of people pleading with him, outraged at their loss.
The Second Warning
Secondly, our host talked about the folks who don’t want to join in the mud pit (there’s always at least a few). They decide they only want to watch and take pictures. But then they see all the fun, set down their camera, or slip off their shirt, and join in, carefully leaving their items up on the “shore”. Big mistake. The elephants love to play and they love toys. Anything left near the mud pits is fair game, and it’s guaranteed the elephants will be happy to play with the “toys” you’ve so thoughtfully left for them. Your items will never be the same. Kiss them goodbye.
The Third Warning
Thirdly, watch where you are in relation to the elephants legs and back end. The elephants like to lay down on their side and stretch out, wiggle, and roll in the mud. If you’re in their path, well, you might be in some trouble. If you end up at their tail end, they may inadvertently kick you all the way back to Chiang Mai during a particularly big stretch.
To See, or Not To See
After our warnings, Steve decided to leave his glasses at the camp, where they’d stay safe. I decided to keep my glasses on, since I’m so blind without them. I needed to be sure I could see well enough to distinguish the front end from the back end, so I’d make it through the day in one piece.
To the Mud Pit
We had been advised to go barefoot, since the mud is very sticky and sucks sandals down like quicksand. So, with one of us bespeckled, and one not, and both barefoot, we headed down to the mud pit.
The elephants were just entering the pit as we arrived. Some people plowed straight in, but I held back for a moment, surveying the pit for my best entry option. Nothing was really jumping out at me. All entry points looked similar, shiny, slippery mud, with opaque, murky puddles all around. Steve was already in the pit, up to his calves in muck. I flashed on the ride up, when Steve said there may be snakes in these parts, specifically in the water. Shaking that sweet tidbit from my mind, I waded in.
The Bad Place
I was busy looking down, quite focused on my feet sinking deeper into the mud, and the water hitting my thighs, when suddenly a larger (much larger) priority emerged. A huge elephant (actually they are all huge) was in the process of lying down directly in front of me, its back getting larger until it filled my vision. Water was being displaced in droves, creating a wake spurting in all directions. Everything was happening quite quickly. It was impossible to tell what the elephant had in mind (if anything) regarding his ultimate landing plans. Steve was in the bad place, per warning number three, when the elephant finally finished his roll-over move.
Thankfully a camp worker, strategically placed for our safety, came to the rescue. He yanked Steve out from the elephants back end to a safer location, over by the elephants mid-section, where I was standing. Just then the elephant farted, complete with bubbles, just like in a bathtub. It was a near miss for Steve. I was laughing so hard I could barely stand.
A Mud Massage
We proceeded to grab big handfuls of mud and spread the thick goo all over the elephant’s back, head, trunk, and ears. He was loving it.
His hide was mostly rough, with one notably smooth section on his forehead. His feet looked like they belonged to a dinosaur.
He had long, thick, and straight hairs sticking out all over the top of his head and lots of softer looking hair by his mouth.
His eyes reminded me of a horse’s eyes, soft and knowing.
After everyone was good and mudded up, including the elephants, we moved on to a beautiful waterfall, complete with a tranquil pool, to wash off. Before entering the pool, we were each handed a brightly colored plastic pail to splash the elephants (and each other). The hosts were purposely drenching us all, which turned into a giant water fight. We splashed, played, and laughed. It was chaotic and loads of fun.
As Hungry as a Dinosaur
From what we were told, the elephants eat about as much as a Brontosaurus. They are always hungry and will always eat, kind of like a Labrador Retriever.
We fed the elephants three different “courses” that day. Locally grown, tiny sized bananas were served for their appetizer. The bananas were short and stout, about four to six inches each and several inches around. Huge bunches were handed out to each of us. We pulled the bananas off our bunch and stuffed them in the giant front pocket of the traditional shirt were were all given to wear. The bananas were overripe, black, and mushy. We hung on to the stock end too. The elephants will eat it all.
“Bon, Bon!”
Per our coaching, I’d raise up my arm, and loudly shout “Bon, Bon”. This told the elephant that I was going to hand feed it, putting the banana directly into his mouth. We entered the elephant field. The elephants ran towards us, knowing we had bananas. It’s a bit difficult to stand your ground when an excited elephant is galloping towards you, even if it’s a slow gallop.
“Bon, Bon”!, and the trunk flies up, exposing a very large, “V” shaped mouth. I reached up and placed a banana on the giant, warm, soft, pink tongue. Then again and again. It’s never something I dreamed of doing, but I’m so glad I can say that I touched an elephants tongue, multiple times. Now that’s up close and personal.
The Corn Stalks
Tracy & Steve carrying corn stocks to feed the elephants.
For the elephants second course, we all walked back up the hill and were thrown a stack of dried out corn stalks. One by one, we carried them back down the steep steps into the valley, to the waiting elephants.
Steve was fascinated watching the elephant’s trunk in action, curling and twisting with perfect control. We’d watch the elephant pick up a corn stalk with his trunk, then adeptly strip all the leaves off with one or two swipes of his trunk. Apparently the stalk is what’s yummy in this equation.
Elephant Jungle Sanctuary
If you’re In Thailand, I highly recommend Elephant Jungle Sanctuary. Our day with the elephants was glorious. And fun. And muddy. And more fun. And educational.
Elephant Jungle Sanctuary has camps in Chiang Mai, Phuket, Pattaya, and Samui. They were a tiny bit more expensive than some of the other camps (of which there are zillions), but the selfless work they are doing to give elephants the life, care, love and respect they deserve is nothing short of incredible. And you get a cool shirt to take home, a lovely lunch, and lots of elephant love.
The camp directors consider the elephants family. It’s a continual struggle to maintain the camps, fighting against big-money investors that exploit the elephants for profits. Their dedication to continue expanding and creating sustainable camps is beyond admirable. Learn more about Elephant Jungle Sanctuary here:
The day was long, but so worth every minute and every penny. #❤️elephants
Wins and Losses
Wins
Hearing an elephant trumpet. At least five or six times throughout the day. Soooo cool.
Watching the elephants finger-like appendage, at the end of his trunk, that gave him amazing precision dexterity for picking up and manipulating small items.
Touching the huge bulge protruding from the side of the pregnant elephant. 18 months down, 6 to go. Gestation is two years for elephants. OMG.
Getting educated about the real struggle to save the elephants from abuse and extinction.
Losses
Noticing big, floating blobs in the mud pit as we exited, and realizing what they were. Hint: what goes in must come out.
Steve spotted the sign, “Chat With Monk”. And yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to do.
We’ve seen monks all over Thailand and Myanmar in their distinctive orange robes, walking in town, on the bus, in restaurants, and in Wats (Buddhist temples).
Monks are a mystery to me. They seem very private and keep to themselves. Now was my possibly one and only chance to actually talk to a monk and get the inside scoop, direct from the guy in orange (meant with the utmost respect).
Wat Chedi Luang
Majestic Wat Chedi Luang
We were visiting Wat Chedi Luang, in Chiang Mai, Thailand, when we seized the opportunity to chat with a monk.
There were six round teak tables under a free standing shade canopy in the chat area. One monk sat at a table in front of a huge wall map of the world. He was the one and only monk there. He sat in his orange robe, draped over one shoulder, with the other shoulder bare. We walked over and sat at his table, in the shade of the canopy.
Monk in Training
Beautiful Wat Chedi Luang
The first thing I noticed was his youthful look and huge smile. I asked him if it was o.k. to ask his age, and he said, “that is a question that is common”, so I assumed that was a yes. He told me he was 18, and he was a Monk in training.
So Young
Chai decided to become a monk when he was only eight years old. He was born and raised in Myanmar, in the upper northeastern region. Chai was surprised to learn that we had just come from Myanmar yesterday. We had spent 4 nights in Yangon. He said he was from the far northeast of Myanmar, far from Yangon.
Giant Buddha, Wat Chedi Luang
So, at the young age of eight, Chai left his family to live with the monks. He has been a monk in training for the past ten years. Ten years!
I wonder if he even remembers a life before becoming a monk.
Chai has lived at Wat Chedi Luang, where we were chatting with him, for the past five months. Monks move, live and study at different wats, with different teachers, as part of their training.
It’s incredible that Chai came to Thailand from Myanmar just under two years ago knowing only his Burmese dialect. He had to learn Thai, and is now learning English (and he’s quite good). In fact he was reading a copy of The Secret Garden when we stopped to chat with him. It was a learner copy, with some Thai text on the bottom of each page, to help him along.
Tough Circumstances
White board filled with Buddhist widsom
Chai said many monks go to the university, but he cannot attend the university because he is not Thai. He said his current teacher, a Monk, has a degree in Philosophy and Psychology from the Chiang Mai University. His current teacher filled the entire white board in the chatting area full of Buddhist wisdom, titled “Chat and Share”.
One corner of the white board
I asked if he would want to go to university in Myanmar, since he obviously valued education and couldn’t attend in Thailand. He told me he couldn’t do that either, because he is not a Burmese citizen. That surprised me because he had told me he was born in Myanmar. He explained that he is Shan. Shan are an ethnic minority in Myanmar and he is not considered a Burmese citizen, even though he was born in Myanmar.
Wow, what a wake up call to be chatting with someone in such circumstances. Although he was only eight at the time, perhaps that factored into his decision to become a monk, with his limited options in Myanmar. I’m not sure someone so young can understand their place in a restrictive regime, but just maybe he or his family did.
A Happy Monk
Entrance to a temple at Wat Chedi Luang
Chai seemed very happy with his decision to be a monk. He explained that monks always have the choice to stay or leave. He said that now that he is age 18, he has made the decision again, as an adult, to stay. I wondered if monks are typically committed for life, once they start on the monk path. He said some men are only monks for five minutes, one month, one year, or some are forever. And it sounded like there is no stigma if someone should choose to leave the monkhood.
Young Monks
Close-up of incredible detail, Wat Chedi Luang
I asked about the number of monks at the Wat. Chai said there are 50 “full” monks, and 200 young monks in training. Once he is age 20, he will be a “full” monk. So that means that 200 of the monks at the wat are under age 20. Wow, sounds like monk recruiting is going quite well.
Sunrise Donations
I wasn’t up at dawn….this is a stock image
Chai explained that the monks live on only donations and have no possessions (other than books to study and bare necessities). They get up before dawn and walk the streets of their community, each carrying a bowl for donations.
Buddhist devotees believe that offering alms secures them good karma in this life and the next. They also hope to bestow good luck on deceased family members by donating to the monks. As the monks pass by in the early morning hours, people put fruit, food, and money into their bowls. Whatever Chai gets in his bowl, he can keep for his needs.
The Cafeteria
I asked if the Monks have a cafeteria at the wat compound. I did think about whether I should use the word cafeteria, since it’s kind of a big word, and I’d been careful to use simple words as much as possible in our conversation. Chai looked confused and wasn’t sure what the word cafeteria meant. I explained that a cafeteria is a large room where the Monks eat together. And now Chai has a new word. You’re welcome.
Reclining Buddha, Wat Chedi Luang
Chai told us that people from the community volunteer to cook lunch for the Monks every day at the wat. Turns out Monks do not eat after midday, so their meager breakfast and community lunch are it for the day. No wonder most monks are so slender.
Fast Friends
Ribbons hanging in Wat
I had read that women need to be very careful to not touch or accidentally brush up against a monk. It’s best to not even sit next to a monk on a bus or train, if possible. I had also read (I thought) that it’s not good form to take a monk’s picture.
By now Chai, Steve, and I had chatted for close to 45 minutes. I’d shown Chai pictures of where we live in Seattle, we showed him our city on the world map, we talked about snow and why it’s expensive to live in California and New York, and I showed him pictures of my kids and pets.
Buddhists worshiping in Wat
I felt like we were fast friends. Chai was so personable, open, and quick to smile. I really, really wanted a picture of Chai, so I went ahead and asked, “Is it ok to get a picture of you?”. He smiled widely and said a big, “Yes, of course, it is fine”, which surprised me, but made me very happy. I guess all my efforts to avoid taking a monks picture were unnecessary. Who knew?
The New Monk
The “new monk”….staring at his cell phone
By then another young monk, who I’ll call the new monk, who didn’t seem at all interested in chatting, had joined the table. The new monk sat consumed by some videos on his cell phone (I’m guessing even teen monks need screen-time limits – haha). Chai suggested that new monk snap a picture of us.
The Picture
To orchestrate the picture taking, Chai told Steve to join him on his bench. He made it very clear that I should stay on my own, separate bench, that had a gap of a few inches from his bench. It was important that I stay a safe distance from him. I wonder if he can hug his own mom. Probably not, and I didn’t think to ask until after we had left (but I did find out that he sees his family regularly – and had just seen his mom last week).
No way…. this serious guy wasn’t Chai
The retake …. with Chai smiling
The new monk took our picture and handed me back my cellphone. I took a quick peek at the picture, and saw that Chai hadn’t smiled. He looked so serious and not like himself at all. I felt we had enough of a rapport that I chimed right up and said I really wanted a picture with Chai smiling, since he has such a nice smile. He smiled at that (of course), and agreed to retake the photo.
Good Karma
I’m so very happy that I had the good fortune (karma?) to meet Chai today. I have a new perspective and understanding of monks, their life and deep commitment, kindness, and their pursuit of nirvana.
Today we visited the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, Myanmar, Burma’s most important Buddhist pilgrimage site. According to legend the pagoda is more than 2,500 years old dating back to the lifetime of the Buddha.
We had seen the Pagoda many times over the past few days from different points in the city, as it stands a whopping 326 feet tall and is hard to miss. It’s gold plated with the diamond studded spire, which also helps it stand out a bit.
You’ve Got to See This
Seeing the Pagoda up close and personal was a whole different experience. The sheer enormity of the Pagoda was mind-boggling. And besides the featured Pagoda, there’s a 144 acre complex full of golden stupas surrounding it! The pictures just don’t do it justice. I’d highly recommend a trip to Yangon to see it for yourself!
An Active Place of Worship
The pagoda is much more than a tourist attraction, it is the most important religious site in Myanmar. It is a very active place of worship. Scores of monks, pilgrims, and devotees mix among tourists at the monument with their offerings of flowers and incense.
Flowers Everywhere
There must have been half a dozen flower “shops” sprinkled around the complex supplying the beautiful flowers so many worshipers were purchasing as an offering to Buddha.
Celebrity for a Day
We saw some school groups at the Pagoda too. One boy, part of a group all in red numbered jerseys, walked arm in arm with this friends and shouted out a big “Hello” to Steve and I.
When we both said a big “Hello” back, he and his friends were very surprised. They were giggling and whooping it up. I think our greeter made a big hit with his friends that he “communicated” with the foreigners. We were happy to have made that kid a celebrity, if even for a day!
We came to Myanmar to visit a family member of ours who is living here. It’s been nice to visit Yangon with some temporary locals as our hosts.
Travel With Your Own Shade
Everywhere I look around Yangon, women, men, old, and young are hurrying along with umbrellas. Around here you’re either in the intense, unyielding sun or in a downpour. Even the bicycle taxi has an umbrella.
Sarongs Rule
I’d say almost half the people (women and men) around town wear Sarongs. The Sarongs here are like a giant infinity scarf, meaning they are sewn into a closed loop, as opposed to a flat scarf.
Honking Phenomenon
Yes, the Burmese drive by honking (just like in Bangkok), with one notable exception (excuse the pun). Many of the drivers seem to have their own honking tune, unique to them, that they repeat here and there while driving around. Perhaps they are announcing themselves at intersections or to friends out on the street? We’re not sure, but it’s kind of fun.
For one ride we were lucky to have a taxi driver who had his own unique tune. He honked out his tune a couple of times as we drove along. If he had understood English I would have gotten to the bottom of the mystery, you can bet on that.
Burmese Kyat
Our thirteen thousand kyat lunch
The Burmese currency is the kyat, and the current conversion is 1521 kyat to 1 USD, which makes buying anything an exercise in mathematical computation.
Today at lunch Steve told me he had 3,600 kyat left in his wallet (we leave tomorrow). I was a bit concerned, considering the lunch we were in the midst of eating was going to cost around thirteen thousand kyats. Thankfully he had miscalculated and was off by a factor of ten, so we were fine.
The #59 Bus
The #59 local bus we took was ancient and rickety, but got us where we needed to go. It’s a smallish bus and set up to pack ‘em in. There are a few bench seats way in the back. The bulk of the bus is set-up for standing on the shiny metal flooring. The windows are wide open because it’s blazing hot with high humidity.
The Bus Guy
Bus guy wearing plaid, on the far right
There’s a guy on bus #59 who has the job of hanging halfway out the bus door and yelling to everyone in the street. But with all the windows and door wide open, he’s kind of yelling at us too. We assume he is announcing upcoming destinations. He yells with volume and intensity, like an auctioneer. He yells nonstop as we are pulling away from the stop. He yells nonstop as we approach stops. There’s not much time between stops, so there’s lots of yelling.
The #11 Bus
Bus stop, end of the line
The #11 bus heading to the Shwedagon Temple was quite a contrast to the #59 we took the day before. Like night and day different. The #11 was newer, modern, and air-conditioned, with seats throughout (albeit crowded with lots of people standing). It even had two video screens strategically mounted, playing nonstop flashy advertising, complete with catchy jingles.
Nap Hka
Many Burmese people wear a yellowish-whitish cosmetic paste on their face called nap hka. Supposedly it is mostly worn by women and children, but I saw lots of men and teen boys wearing the paste too. Even our taxi driver one afternoon was wearing Nap Hka. Most cultures that have had a similar practice have discontinued it, and only use for the benefit of tourism, but in Myanmar it is still widely seen.
I saw people that had the paste spread over their entire face, whereas others apply a big circle on each cheek. Still others wear angled lines or create patterns like leaves or dots.
I’m a Novelty
The people here seem quite intrigued by us. There are virtually no Caucasian tourists around town (but we did see a few at the Pagoda). Small children stare at me. I smile and wave and they break into a huge grin of delight.
A young teen boy working in a small convenience store looked at me very intently while bagging some groceries. When he saw that I had noticed him looking at me, he too broke into a wide grin.
There was a girl on the bus, probably in her late teens, that openly stared at me for most the bus ride, about 15 minutes, carefully studying everything about me. I met her eyes several times and we both smiled, but she continued to examine me. If only we could have communicated. I would have loved to have been able to talk with her and answer any questions she might have.
The Dogs
Street dogs on my brothers street
We saw at least five large breed street dogs living on my relative’s block. Multiply that by almost every block in Yangon. That’s a lot of dogs.
They wander in and out of the traffic, laze around in the shade, and dig through garbage. With so much chaotic traffic, I honestly don’t know how they don’t get hit by cars, it’s like they’re magic Teflon dogs.
At night they get together and howl and howl. It’s a bit eerie.
Pedestrian Woes
The first afternoon here, I followed my relative as he walked briskly to his apartment from our hotel. He was walking in the street, between the parked cars and masses of heavy, chaotic traffic. I assumed there were no sidewalks, but then I noticed there were.
There are tons of pedestrians walking at all hours and they all walk in the street. It’s very strange. Almost every street has a wide sidewalk, but they are rarely used. I asked my relative why no one uses the sidewalks. He didn’t know why, just that no one does.
Quite often cars coming up behind us are dangerously close. They always honk, even if they are quite a ways back, and we temporarily duck in between the parked cars to let them pass. The sidewalk seems like a much better option, but I don’t want to rock the Burmese boat, so I’m walking in the street with the best of them.
The Sunset
One afternoon Steve and I taxied out to a beautiful park near the Shwedagon Pagoda, just in time for sunset. It was glorious.
