Destinations Archives -

Lo de Marcos, Mexico

December 10 – December 17, 2024

The Quiet

Lying in bed. Reading. Comfortable. Quiet. Serene. The evening sky slowly darkening. The ceiling fan faintly whirring in the background. Then BOOM. Four minutes later BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. Fifteen minutes later KA–BOOM (practically shaking the walls).

This is the evening routine. The locals set off “cohetes” (firecrackers) and “bombas” (enormous firecrackers) nightly. They could be warding off evil spirits, honoring patron saints, celebrating a pilgrimage, festival or an event. It’s a centuries-long cultural practice deeply rooted in their history, and is considered a way to connect with their heritage. Or they could just be entertaining themselves.

All I know is the periodic BOOMS continue at different intervals, sometimes even overnight, (3 and 6 am). And yes, they do wake us up. It’s just another reminder that we’re in Mexico, right where we want to be.

Time is on our side (or is it?)

In many parts of Mexico, the actual time of day is somewhat irrelevant. For instance, the posted hours for a restaurant or store are somewhat meaningless. The locals run on what is sometimes called “Mexican time”, which means whatever works best that day, is how it will be. But here in Lo de Marcos, it’s taken to a whole new level.

The State Line

You see, when you cross the state line from Jalisco into Nayarit, you lose an hour. This seems straightforward and simple enough. However, we learned that the towns and villages just north of the state line still like to stay on the neighboring Jalisco time.

Many tourists frequent the coastline here, and I suppose they found it more convenient to stay on the same clock as the airport in Jalisco, to the south. Probably too many tourists were messing up their flights home.

Where to Begin?

The trick is, if you’re not using the actual state line for your time change, where does the time change start? Well, our northbound driver told us the time change starts in Lo de Marcos, our destination. Good enough.

Come to find out our iPhone and Apple Watch didn’t get the memo. Which seems like a huge glitch in the matrix. How can the all-knowing Apple iPhone not have the correct time?

So, because of this confusing state of affairs, we never really know exactly what time it is. Fortunately this works for us, since we are vacationing in a sleepy beachside village in Mexico. It’s all part of the authentic experience I guess.

The Zócalo

Every Mexican town has a Zócalo. It’s the main square, the heart of the city, a gathering place, a place of festivals and celebrations. It’s a place to see and be seen. The whole town hangs out, mostly on evenings and weekends. Children run and play, teenagers flirt and gossip, and seniors relax on the many park benches.

What does one expect to see in the Zócalo of a small Mexican village? Well, typically you’d see an open area with tiled or concrete walkways surrounding a large, central Gazebo. The area is full of wrought iron park benches, and perhaps even some play equipment for the kids. You might see some huge, mature Ficus trees carved into animal shapes or an impressive border, and perhaps some beautiful, bright clematis vines and well-manicured flower beds.

The Unexpected

What you wouldn’t expect to see at the Zócalo, in a very small Mexican village, are a bunch of white-haired expats, many in cute little tennis outfits, playing Pickleball. Dozens of them running and sweating in the hot, Mexican sunshine.

You would never anticipate that these resourceful old-folks (I can call them that because technically I’m one of them), would have somehow gotten the small, rather poor town to paint Pickleball courts on the pavement surrounding the center gazebo of their beloved Zócalo.

But they did. And apparently they enjoy rousing games of Pickleball every morning, while the non-players socialize and mill about.

Will Wonders Never Cease

The discongruity of this scene was astounding. It was like someone dropped a group of well-off, country club laden senior pickleballers directly into the center square of a small, dusty, rather poor Mexican village.

Good Times up North (of Puerto Vallarta)

We’ve been to Puerto Vallarta so many times I’ve lost count. On those trips we did venture north a few times, visiting some of the smaller villages.

Once we even stayed several hours north, in the middle of nowhere, in some small townhouses that my mom somehow found. It was an eventful trip, as we ended up kind-of getting in a car accident somewhere deep in the jungle, late in the afternoon.

Indelibly Etched on my Mind

This terrible, no good, bad day happened back in (I’d guess) 1999. My husband, Steve, and I were in our four-door rental car. Our two young boys and our niece sat three-across in the backseat.

The kids were ages 5, 6, and 7 years old at the time. We were hurrying back home along a two-lane, winding road through the lush jungle forest after spending the day at a crocodile reserve.

We were trying to get back to our place before dark, since everyone knows gringos should not be driving in Mexico after dark. It’s just a bad idea on many counts.

That’s when the incident happened.

Do the Right Thing

We pulled over like responsible citizens should (later we were told by locals that since no one was hurt we should have just immediately driven away from the scene).

There was nothing but jungle for miles and miles, but there happened to be a very randomly placed building under construction right where we pulled over. One of the construction workers hopped in his car and sped off.

Yes and Yes

Yes, the local police came quickly. Yes, they took away Steve’s car keys and wallet. Yes, we were stranded there, standing on the side of the small, windy road. Yes, the small Datsun truck that was following us way too close and almost rear-ended us, but didn’t, now sat upside down on the edge of a cliff.

More Yes’es

Yes, it definitely appeared that the couple from the flipped car were animatedly telling the police, who spoke no English whatsoever, a completely different story than what actually happened. And yes, I was sure they were about to take my husband into custody, leaving me and three small children stranded as darkness fell, in a foreign country, in the jungle, alone.

Some No’s

This was a time of NO cell-phones. NO texting. NO way to communicate with the non-jungle world beyond where we stood.

We’ve Got Nothing but Time

We spent hours waiting… for what, we didn’t know. Were the local police waiting for a bribe? If we offered them a bribe would it solve everything, or would we be making our situation worse? We weren’t sure, so we did nothing, just waited.

Actually that’s not completely accurate. We waited and we inwardly panicked. My panic, in particular, was way off the charts. We had to somehow act calm and collected, for the sake of the kids, but there was a definite undercurrent of panic going on.

The Biting Ceratopogonidae

There were other issues too, like the No-see-um’s that came out as the sun set. Their “real” name is Ceratopogonidae, which I had to look up. Everyone just calls them No-see-ums.

If you don’t know, No-see-ums are tiny flying insects that are incredibly difficult to spot, but their bite is fierce.

When you combine small children with a long and hot day of outdoor activity, a couple of lengthy car rides, then make them stand on the side of the road for hours with no snacks, it’s a bad scene. But then, if you for some insane reason, add in biting insects that you can’t even see, well, that basically sends things over the top. It’s a guaranteed recipe for just about the worst time ever.

Los Federales

Around 7:30 pm the Policia Federal arrived in a huge black truck. By now it was pitch black. At least the No-see-um’s were gone.

A couple of Federales were in the cab, a couple more were standing in the back with huge machine guns. These guys mean business. I about shat my pants.

Suffice to say, the Federales ended up being the heroes of this story. They quickly assessed the situation, thankfully decided we were not at fault, and sent us on our way.

When they handed Steve his wallet and keys I almost fainted. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved in my life, or ever will be again.

Bucerias

On one of our long-ago excursions north of PV, we ended up in Bucerias for the day. Thing is, this was probably 25 years ago. That’s a lot of years.

Bucerias of Old

Back then (wow, I’m dating myself again), Bucerias was just a small fishing village. To the best of my recollection, there were only a few tourists, like us, walking around the main street perusing the outdoor booths selling cheap trinkets, woven hats, and anklets made of shells.

I remember thinking, and may have even said to my husband, how I’d someday love to come and spend a few weeks in a small fishing village like Bucerias.

How relaxing it would be to wake up every morning and walk down to the local marketplace to buy the day’s fruits and vegetables, with a quick stop down to the beach to buy some fresh fish directly from the local fisherman.

Current Day

Fast forward twenty-five years and I’m researching Mexican destinations, looking for that idyllic Bucerias-like setting that no longer exists in Bucerias. Growth, expats, and the bar scene have significantly impacted my little Bucerias of 25-years ago.

Enter Lo de Marcos

Lo de Marcos is just far enough north of Puerto Vallarta that it’s still semi-untouched. There’s still an authentic feel to 90% of the town.

It’s very small, with a year round population of ~2k. That being said, there’s a definite seasonal crowd that is made up primarily of Canadians and US citizens. And there’s also a few long term expats, like Rick, who we met about an hour after we arrived that first day.

The Expat Rick

Rick was sitting in his golf cart outside of Oscar’s restaurant. He’d just ordered take out for his wife and son. He noticed us standing, probably with that slight deer in the headlights look, considering we had just arrived in town and were trying to figure out our best option for some dinner.

Rick chatted us up for a while. Turns out he’s quite the interesting guy. He moved to Lo de Marcos 9 years ago with his wife after they retired. Then, at age 62, four years ago, he and his wife adopted a local baby boy.

He lives up on the hillside overlooking town and the sea. He loves LDM, especially when all the seasonal folks and tourists leave town.

Recommendations

Rick told us about several good restaurants in town. Unfortunately, he didn’t know any of the restaurants names or any of the street names in town, making his information a wee-bit less useful. At least we knew there were good restaurants to be found, we’d just have to find them.

Thankfully,we were able to find one, based on his description of it being “in” an RV park on the main drag. And, for the record, the restaurant’s name is Tlaquepaque, and it serves incredible fajitas, just like Rick said.

I guess when you live in such a small town, names just aren’t that necessary.

The Real Lo de Marcos

Lo de Marcos is a town with one main street. The street turns off the highway and ends at the ocean. It’s a street made of uneven, large stones that are dug halfway into the hard dirt. It’s by no means smooth or even flat, like a cobblestone street, but has a certain charm, nonetheless. Because the stones are a bit too far apart, you can still clearly see the dirt road beneath, and it’s a bit dusty.

Maybe half the other streets that make up the town are dirt. There are paved sidewalks, but many are in a state of disrepair. You need to keep an eye on where you’re stepping. In stark contrast, the walkways in and around the Zócalo are wide, smooth, flat, and well maintained.

Luis Echevarria

And just like every Mexican town we’ve been to, the shopkeepers and restaurant owners along the main street of Luis Echevarria keep the sidewalk in front of their establishment pristine. They sweep and mop regularly, always using a strong Clorox solution. There is no trash or debris littered about.

Most of the activity we see around town are locals going about their day, tending their kids, hanging laundry, or cruising by on an old, rusty bike. But probably at least half the time the locals (and expats) are buzzing around in golf carts, the preferred mode of transportation.

Yum

There is a very definite presence of coffee shops and restaurants geared to us gringos. The big difference is these restaurants are not chains or fast food, but family-owned, with outstanding fare. They are mostly casual and quite reasonably priced too.

Small & Quiet

And I’m very happy to report that there is only one small, tacky gift shop in town. It’s there for the tourists who forgot their flip flops, need a blow up floaty for the beach, or a cheap Mexican trinket that likely was made in China.

There’s no traffic, no crowds, and no waits at restaurants. There are several food carts including a taco stand and a gourmet hot dog stand. All are very well attended.

There’s a chill vibe. Everyone is friendly and helpful.

Of course, things may change as the holidays get closer, but as of December 15th, I’d say Lo de Marcos is kind of the opposite of any large, overrun-with-tourists Mexican town, which is a quite nice.

Apartment 26B

We’re staying in a small one-bedroom apartment, #26B. It’s through a large wrought iron gate at the end of a short, tiled alley. The alley is lined on one side by a wall full of drying laundry, the other side by a few apartment style homes. Several of these homes have dogs that hang out and “guard” the alley (they actually just live in the alley, but we like to think they are guarding it). One is a large black and white dog (mutt), the other is a tiny Chihuahua that is often wearing a small, white, slightly torn t-shirt.

The dogs have come to know us. I guess we passed their sniff test (thankfully). They are sweet dogs, but they leave us doggy poop bombs all over the alley. Yeah, we aren’t too fond of that part.

La Playa (The Beach)

Lo de Marcos has a lovely, litter-free, expansive beach. It’s insanely uncrowded on weekdays. It’s slightly more inhabited on a beautiful weekend afternoon, but it’s still easy to plop down a football field or more away from anyone else.

Surfers cluster at the far southern end of the beach, where the surfing is best. I could watch them for hours. The waves are explosive and spectacular, even in the area without surfers, often reaching 3 to 5 feet.

The Neighborhood

Our neighborhood (what I’m calling probably half the town, south of main street), is a varied hodge-podge of residences.

Many buildings look like they could use some renovations just to be livable. Others are small, but well-maintained with fresh paint in bright colors and hanging plants out front. There’s also quite a few Se Vende (for sale) signs, and most of these would definitely be in the “fixer-upper” category.

We’ve seen several makeshift wood burning stoves in front of people’s homes. I can’t be sure, but I’m thinking this may be their primary kitchen.

The stoves are situated between the sidewalk and the street, just outside the front door, and we typically see them used for grilling meat or boiling a large pot.

Trucks with Treats

There’s also the common practice, as seen throughout Mexico, of a family or farmer cruising through the streets blaring their sales pitch, all in Spanish of course. We’ve seen the watermelon truck several times, as well as a family selling tamales from their vehicle. But more often than not, we have no idea what they’re selling because we don’t know Spanish. lol

Inevitable Change

Lo de Marcos is changing though, and probably won’t stay so innocent or authentic for much longer. As more tourists head north of Puerto Vallarta for the “real Mexico” experience, it’s bound to grow and change, just like Bucerias and many others before it have. Nine years ago, when our new friend Rick moved to Lo de Marcos, he said no one spoke any English. I can only imagine how sleepy and small it was then.

Today it’s easy enough to get by without Spanish here. Probably half the locals speak at least some English and most menus we’ve seen have an English and Spanish side.

Feliz Navidad

And finally, on our last day in town, it feels Christmassy. The town finally put up the Xmas decorations in the Zócalo, and more restaurants have also done so.

As we sit at the Water Man Cafe next to a cute snowman on a pillar, listening to The First Noel, on December 16th, I’m struck at how the Christmas decor starts the very day after Thanksgiving at home. No rush here. Must be that beachy chill vibe.

Pros & Cons

The Pros

My new hobby: watching 4 to 6 pelicans cruise in formation skimming the surf. They then soar up high to a climax, suddenly stopping mid-air, then dropping, as if they just ran out of gas. Their streamlined bodies go into a bullet-like free-fall, diving gracefully into the sea with a tiny splash. My very favorite is when four dive-bomb in a synchronized fall, or when they sequentially drop in quick succession. They just call it fishing in bird language, but to me it’s a gorgeous ballet.

The Real Deal: Oscar’s tacos and Tlaquepaque’s fajitas. Oh my gawd. Seriously, so good.

A Food Find! Not much alternative food options here… but we actually found some freshly made Gluten Free bread that was amazing! Made some wonderful breakfast toast with peanut butter & honey!

Beach Supplies: An Airbnb that provides two Tommy Bahama adjustable lounger chairs and a big, very functional beach umbrella. So nice!

The Cons

Mosquito’s Anyone? Right after dinner on our very first evening, we were abruptly and unexpectedly doused with some strong mosquito insecticide by a fast moving city truck as we sat, innocently enough, at our table at the open-air end of a restaurant. Then, walking home, that same mosquito-spray truck appeared and got us again! Seriously, that was a bummer.

Run in Circles, Scream and Shout – Teeny-tiny ants kept appearing on the wall just above my head in the bedroom. Lots and lots of them. And I think they possessed some extraordinary intelligence because when I would squish one, they all would freak out and quickly scurry in every direction as if in a mad panic. Some even got confused and ran in circles. Not sure if they were screaming and shouting though.

Next Up…San Francisco (or better known as San Pancho)

The Final Chapter: Getting Home

Posted April 7, 2020

Winding Down

One final blog post to finish out our grand adventure. Steve and I started our journey flying from Seattle to Portugal, staying for a month, then on to SE Asia for almost five months, and lastly to Spain for ten days. We started out back on September 24, 2019….fast forward to day 172 of our trip, in the wee hours of March 12, 2020…

Buzzzz…Buzzzz

At the ungodly hour of 2:30 am, Steve’s phone buzzed and buzzed in the dark of our bedroom in Valencia, Spain. Even before the buzzing I was already a bit grumpy (ok, I was actually very grumpy), for a couple of reasons:

Lack of Sleep. I hadn’t slept soundly for the past eight nights. The annual Falles Festival, held in Valencia, was in full swing. The Festival celebrates St. Joseph with an outrageously loud and impressive explosives show in the main square, held at 2 pm daily, every day in March. Throughout the day, singing minstrels in traditional garb roam the streets, as well as large and small marching bands, and impromptu groups break into song on street corners. There’s festive partying in the streets at all hours, including just outside our apartment.

Traditional dress and roaming bands for Falles, Valencia, Spain

Worry over the Coronavirus. Being in Valencia during the Falles Festival would typically be a really fun time to visit the city, but the disconnect between having a large festival and a potential pandemic was difficult, and weighed on us. Madrid, a two hour train ride to the west, had already shut down, but Valencia was in 24 hour party-mode. The virus had been slowly ramping up over the past couple of weeks, but was suddenly accelerating at a quick clip the past few days, both in Spain (where we were staying) and in the Seattle area (where we are from and have family).

More Buzzing

The buzzing started up again. I rolled over and complained to Steve that his expletive phone was making me crazy. He sighed, reaching for his phone. Rolling his eyes (it was dark, but odds are good that he rolled his eyes), he answered. It was Jeremy, our 25 year old son, phoning. I knew it had to be something urgent, since our phone plan doesn’t cover calls, but here was Jeremy phoning.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Jeremy has always had a loud, booming voice. At the age of four we decided to have him tested for possible hearing loss, since speaking loudly can be a sign of a hearing issue. Turns out he has perfect hearing.

Anyway, I could clearly hear Jeremy through Steve’s phone. In a loud and firm voice, he said:

“DAD, YOU MUST WAKE UP RIGHT NOW”. He had our full attention.

A Text Thread for the Ages

I sat up and grabbed my own phone off the side table. It had been in silent mode. I stared at the screen. I had twelve missed texts.

Key takeaways:

“So mom and dad are fucked?”
“They might be”
“Holy shit I can’t believe it”

Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. I sat cross legged on the bed among the disheveled sheets and blankets, in a haze of shock, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Was this true? Could this really be happening? Were we going to be locked out of our country?

Were we, as our son so eloquently put it, fucked?

The Deadline

Steve had gone into the living room. I have no idea what he was doing, but he was probably pacing. Still sitting on the bed, I started searching YouTube and Google for President Trump’s speech. Nothing seemed real, and I thought seeing the speech myself would help make it so. I wasn’t having much luck. It was too soon and nothing was posted online yet. At that point, all we knew was that Trump had made the announcement that no flights originating in Europe, except from the U.K., could land in the United States starting at midnight on Friday the 13th for a minimum of thirty days.

We had 30 hours.

I vaulted from the bed and turned on all the lights in the apartment (for no apparent reason). It just felt like the right thing to do. I arrived back in the bedroom and got fully dressed, including a bra.

Looking back, that’s how I knew it was serious. Putting on a bra is a commitment that says, yep, it’s time to leave. No time to lounge. It’s like I’d be leaving the apartment and the country right then and there, at 2:30 am. I frantically looked around the room. I flipped open my backpack, thinking I should start packing immediately. We had to move fast! I stopped…wait a minute, we need to make some plans first, right?

Thirty Hours or Thirty Days

Random artwork on a wall in Valencia, Spain

Joining Steve in the living room, I flipped open my laptop and started the search for flights home. Unfortunately Trump’s announcement didn’t include many specifics, so we had to make some assumptions. What time-zone applied to the deadline? We assumed Eastern Standard time, eight hours behind us.

At that point, we had to assume we would be locked out of the United States for at least 30 days if we didn’t get home by the deadline: Friday the 13th at midnight.

Hurry Up

My heart was racing. My laptop was loading way too slowly for my practically non-existent patience. There was some exasperated yelling (by me, at my laptop), which wasn’t making websites load any faster. Every flight offered to Seattle would land us at SeaTac International Airport after midnight, March 13. Perhaps we were fucked, after all. Taking deep breaths to try to gain some perspective and calm myself, I started looking at any flight that would deliver us in time, anywhere in the United States.

Ahead of the Curve

Thankfully our son, Dylan, had been watching the President’s announcement and acted quickly. Because our kids persisted in waking us up, we were ahead of the flight search onslaught that ramped up only a few short hours later. With the time difference, most Americans traveling in Europe didn’t hear about the new mandate (and deadline) until they woke up the next morning. By then it was getting very difficult to find a decent flight home.

I frantically searched for over an hour, finally securing a flight that would get us to the United States by the deadline. We’d leave Valencia later the same day, at 6:00 pm. We’d fly to Lisbon, with a fifteen hour layover, then take a fourteen hour flight to the west coast (San Francisco) of the United States. With the 8 hour time difference in our favor, we’d arrive in the U.S. with five hours to spare.

Sunshine & Tapas

It had been an insane night, and we couldn’t get back to sleep. We didn’t even try. We did our best to enjoy our last morning in Valencia. The sun was shining and throngs of tourists (and locals) meandered the cobblestone streets, with not a care in the world.

We sat at an outdoor cafe (suitably distanced from others), enjoying our favorite tapas one last time. It was astonishing to see so many people going about their day as usual. I wondered aloud, “How long until their world would turn upside down?” Little did we know at the time, but the people of Spain had only one more day of “freedom” before a country wide shelter-in-place order was enacted.

Time To Go

As we stood in line on the tarmac at the airport, waiting to climb the stairs to board the plane, a twenty-something year old woman and her boyfriend were reminiscing about how lucky they were to have booked this flight out of the country. Still up and drinking at 2:30 am had saved them. Drunk, but not too drunk to comprehend Trump’s announcement. Drunk, but not too drunk to book a flight home.

Lisbon International by Night

Lisbon Airport is a large, modern, gorgeous airport full of upscale shops and restaurants. Unfortunately it doesn’t have great overnight options, and our layover ran from 7:00 pm until 10:00 the next morning.

We knew we had to find a place to land for the night. We had fifteen hours until our next flight and our options came down to:

#1) The couch like seating in the busy food court, or

Steve trying to get comfortable in the Lisbon Airport

#2) A group of “recliners” we’d read about online that (unfortunately) turned out to be rock hard and uncomfortable, or

#3) A group of six black vinyl covered stubby “couches” (with dirty lime green trim) tucked down a long corridor by Gate 14, with sparse (and strange) beige plastic tubes hung from the high ceiling in a pathetic attempt to screen the couches from the hallway. Each couch had a poorly placed hump that looked like it was supposed to be a pillow of sorts, but only served to make it impossible to lay down comfortably.

We went with option #3. I huddled on a too short “couch”, in the freezing cold, brightly lit airport terminal all night, hugging my backpack so no one would steal it, trying to sleep.

Thankfully there are no flights between approximately 1:00 to 5:00 am, so the airport cleared out of all traffic, except for us diehard overnighters.

We thought we’d at least get a good sleep during those 4 hours. Little did we know what lie ahead.

Cleaning Up

I’m one of the lucky few who know exactly how one of those large, riding floor polishers sounds as it makes its way back and forth on the expansive linoleum floor in the dead of night. And it’s not pretty.

From the dead quiet of the eerily empty terminal comes a distant quiet rumbling, like an oncoming earthquake. The rumbling grows louder and louder as the polisher approaches and the floor shakes. There’s the loud sound of a motor and swooshing polishers echoing in the cavernous terminal as the polisher reaches us and slides past the little black couches full of weary travelers, each tucked into the fetal position, trying desperately to stay warm and keep up off the floor. Then the process reverses as the polisher gets further away, sliding down in the opposite direction, until finally everything returns to calm and quiet.

There’s a brief respite, when I’d almost get to sleep, then the polisher travels back up the corridor towards us for a second pass, and a third pass, and a fourth pass, and on and on…. I’d been awake for over 24 hours. I was exhausted and dazed to the point of delirium.

Thankfully everyone in the overnighter club was keeping to themselves. In those wee hours, no one tried to engage me in conversation, including Steve, or they may not have come out of it alive. I just wanted to make it through the night and get on that 10:00 am flight to San Francisco.

Under the Wire

Next up, a fourteen hour flight to SF International. For some reason (shock, exhaustion, disbelief, insanity) I couldn’t sleep on the flight, despite being so tired. So the non-sleep induced stupor continued.

We landed in San Francisco and approached customs where we got in the crowded, circuitous line to see an agent for permission to enter the USA. We had under five hours to spare before the midnight deadline.

I could barely stand and felt myself rocking back and forth on my feet, almost drifting off, as I made my way, ever so slowly, towards the customs agent, one step closer to home.

We stood packed in tight with other relieved European travelers, happy to be beating the deadline. A higher than normal percentage of our fellow travelers were college students being sent home after their study abroad programs had been abruptly cancelled.

The college students, recognizing one another as fellow students in the same boat, talked across the crowded room. We all felt a kind of camaraderie.

“Where are you coming from?”, they’d ask each other.

“Berlin”
“Amsterdam”
“Lisbon”
“Paris”

We were from all over Europe and now we were all standing together in a weaving line, bunched together and waiting. For an hour and a half. After weeks of trying our best to stay away from crowds it felt like we were breaking all the rules, and we were.

Finally, it was our turn to approach the customs agent.

“What city did you fly from?”, asked Mr. Customs Agent.
“Valencia, Spain”, we answered.
“Business or pleasure?”, asked Mr. Customs Agent.
“Pleasure”, we answered.
“Welcome Home!”, says Mr. Customs Agent.

It’s All Good

And that was that. The agent asked nothing about how long we’d been traveling, if we’d been to any of the Coronavirus “hot-spots”, if we were feverish or feeling ill.

WHO tweet announcing *World Pandemic*, March 11, 2020

Even though the Coronavirus was deemed a worldwide pandemic just two days prior on March 11th, entering the USA was business as usual. There was no information posted anywhere in the airport and nothing was said to us about what to do if we had Coronavirus symptoms in the coming days. There were no instructions or suggestions to quarantine ourselves (especially if we’d come from an area of high infections). No information on the virus at all.

Taking Action

What a stark contrast to our experiences in Southeast Asia. In a time when days, even hours, count in battling this virus, we had expected much more upon entering the States. Well, certainly more than nothing.

Health Card handed out at Bangkok Airport

Twenty-five days prior, on February 18th, we entered the Bangkok airport from Vietnam. Before we could walk into the airport a worker took our temperature and handed us a Coronavirus information card, complete with medical hotline phone number.

And, as long ago as February 21st, workers took our temperature while we boarded a small ferry boat in southern Thailand.

Virus info table with free masks, Siem Reap, Cambodia

Even in Cambodia, thirty-four days prior (about February 9th), we encountered Coronavirus public service message tables, complete with pamphlets and free masks at remote shopping centers.

And fifty-three days prior, back on January 21st, while in Saigon, Vietnam, all schools had already closed. But entering the United States from overseas at a major airport on March 13th, over seven weeks later – nothing.

The next day we took a flight home to Seattle. Again, we didn’t see any evidence of a world pandemic.

The Final Weeks

The last three weeks of our trip were a bizarre combination of fun, relaxation, anxiety, and concern. We’d spend most of the day relaxing and enjoying ourselves, interspersed with listening to live briefings on the Novel Coronavirus from the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) and WHO (World Health Organization) on YouTube.

We spent two weeks in southern Thailand, first at Aonang Beach in Krabi, then at Klong Dao beach on the island of Koh Lanta, enjoying the sunshine, reading, swimming, and eating lots of good, cheap Thai food. But concern about the spreading Coronavirus was never far from our thoughts.

Then on to Spain for ten days.

It certainly wasn’t the ending I had envisioned, the Novel Coronavirus saw to that.

Even so, it was an amazing trip. Amazing in every way. I’m thankful for each and every day of our travels, and for the fact that we were nearing the end of our trip when we had to cut things short.

Trip Itinerary:

Portugal

Lisbon, 5 nights, Sept 25-30, 2019
Sintra, 2 nights, Sept 30-Oct 1
Lagos, 3 nights, Oct 2-4
Salema, 4 nights, Oct 5-8
Evora, 3 nights, Oct 9-11
Tomar, 2 nights, Oct 12-13
Coimbra, 3 nights, Oct 14-17
Porto, 6 nights, Oct 17-23
Lisbon, 1 night, Oct 23-24

Thailand

Bangkok, 4 nights, Oct 25-29

Myanmar

Yangon, 4 nights, Oct 29-Nov 2

Thailand

Chiang Mai, 10 nights, Nov 2-12
Chiang Saen, 3 nights, Nov 12-15
Chiang Rai, 5 nights, Nov 15-20
Chiang Mai, 1 night, Nov 20-21

Vietnam

Hanoi, 3 nights, Nov 21-24
Ha Long Bay, 1 night, Nov 24-25
Hanoi, 7 nights, Nov 25-Dec 2
Overnight Train North to Sapa, 1 night, Dec 2
Sapa, 4 nights, Dec 3-7
Overnight Train South, 1 night, Dec 7
Tam Coc, 4 nights, Dec 8-12
Dong Hoi, 3 nights, Dec 12-15
Hue, 3 nights, Dec 15-18
Hoi An, 6 nights, Dec 18-24
Beach Hoi An, 9 nights, Dec 24-Jan 2, 2020
Quy Nhon, 7 nights, Jan 2-9
Nha Trang, 7 nights, Jan 9-16
Dalat, 5 nights, Jan 16-21
Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), 9 nights, Jan 21-30
Phu Quoc, 10 nights, Jan 30-Feb 9

Cambodia

Siem Reap, 9 nights, Feb 9-18

Thailand

Krabi, Aonang Beach, 3 nights, Feb 18-21
Koh Lanta, Klong Dao Beach, 10 nights, Feb 21-Mar 2
Krabi Town, 1 night, March 2-3

Spain

Madrid, 1 night, Mar 3-4
Valencia, 9 nights, Mar 4-13

Wins and Losses

Wins

Traveling and exploring for 173 days was so much fun. So. Much. Fun.

The food. Food has got to be one of the best things about traveling.

Learning how to make do with little. Traveling on a tight budget and with a small backpack for six months will do that for you.

Walking through spectacular historical ruins, seeing amazing sights and breathtaking beauty, immersing in other cultures, and experiencing unforgettable moments (often embarrassing or comical- see previous posts).

L to R: Yangon, Myanmar at sunset / Ba Tu Bay, Vietnam / Sapa, Vietnam

L to R: Quy Nhon, Vietnam / Ta Prohm, Angkor Wat, Cambodia

Getting comfortable pivoting on a dime, making last minute plans. No time to research for days, weeks, or months…just dive in.

Enjoying almost six months of round-the-clock togetherness with Steve. We did “better than average” according to Steve, which, coming from him, is very high praise indeed. But seriously, I’d give us a straight “A”. We had a wonderful time together, including celebrating our 35th wedding anniversary in February!

L to R: Siem Reap, Cambodia / Ba Tu Bay, Vietnam / Evora, Portugal

L to R: Ninh Binh, Vietnam / Chiang Rai, Thailand / Yangon, Myanmar

Meeting and making friends with so many people from all over the world – both locals and fellow travelers.

Feeling like we’ve earned the title of veteran travelers! Can’t wait for the next trip!

Losses

When our Spanish hostess arrived on March 4th, well into the Coronavirus outbreak, to greet us and suddenly kisses me on both cheeks. WTF! No kissing strangers in the days of Coronavirus!

Missing out on that last 4-6 weeks of traveling. Not having time to visit Laos, Malaysia, Taiwan, or Bali – or wherever. There’s always next time.

People ask “What was your favorite place?” That’s impossible to answer, so we’d say, “Everyplace was the best place”. And that’s the truth.

La Cucaracha: Hiding in Spain

Written March 6, 2020 (Posted March 28, 2020)

Surprise!

It’s four something in the morning when I walk into the dark bathroom in our small Airbnb apartment in Valencia, Spain, feeling along the wall for the light switch. Snap! Light is suddenly flooding the small bathroom.

Front and center on the bathroom counter, only a foot away from me, stands an absolutely gigantic cockroach. He’s at least the size of a silver dollar, but stretched long-wise into the usual cockroach oval shape. I notice his antennas twitching, but after that I remember nothing except leaping from the bathroom (screaming) and jumping on the double bed, where Steve is sound asleep.

Too Big for Comfort

I have minimal experience with cockroaches, but I’d say that guy was unusually big. As in really large.

I was half asleep, and the sudden and unexpected sight of him sent shock waves through me. I sent Steve in to do his manly duty and get that cockroach, by any means necessary.

Steve tends to think I overreact in bug situations, whereas I tend to think he under-reacts, but this time was different. Steve came out of the bathroom in full agreement that this was a very large and unwelcome guest.

The Funnel Method

To be on the safe side, I turned on all the lights in the apartment, thinking perhaps there were other cockroaches lurking nearby. I sat on the bed and googled cockroach information while Steve, working with a lavender plastic funnel he found in the kitchen, and a folded up map of Valencia, tried to catch the fast moving insect.

Do cockroaches bite? Can cockroaches jump? How does one get rid of a cockroach? If there’s one cockroach, are there more? So many questions. As one might think, there is way too much information on cockroaches on the internet, including disgusting YouTube videos that are quite disturbing to watch at 4:00 am.

You Can’t See Me

Steve had some trouble finding Mr. Cockroach, who had gone into hiding. Eventually he was found and the bathroom was once again made safe.

Shit’s Getting Real

Our daily lunch: a 1 euro spinach pastry pie

And like that cockroach, we’re doing our best to hide. In coronavirus lingo, it’s called “social distancing”. We’re holed up in our apartment, staying “in” way more than is normal for a vacation. We cook breakfast and lunch in our apartment to avoid people.

We go out once a day for a nice walk, steering clear of crowds. The city is flat, welcoming, and walkable. The abundant street art is spectacular and creative.

And, of course, we wash our hands for 20 seconds after doing almost anything. For those times we can’t wash, I carry hand sanitzer in my purse, which we use often and liberally.

Europeans eat a very late dinner, often at 10:00 or 11:00 pm. Most restaurants don’t even open until 8:00 or 9:00 pm around here. So, in the effort to avoid people, we head to dinner as early as possible so we have the restaurant pretty much to ourselves. Right after dinner we retreat to our apartment, avoiding people as much as possible along the way. We’re home and tucked in for the night early, well before the hoards come out to play (and eat).

Eating our Paella, all alone in the outdoor cafe

Get Outta Dodge

A couple of weeks ago, while still in Cambodia, we realized we better plan our escape from SE Asia for sooner, rather than later. Novel coronavirus cases were increasing quickly throughout Asia. Several fellow traveler friends were having bad luck with their flights getting cancelled, particularly flights that had a layover in a location with lots of novel coronavirus cases like Taipei, Hong Kong, Seoul, and Singapore – all typical layover locations for a flight to Seattle (home).

To avoid any of these “hot-spots”, I had the bright idea of flying to Europe, staying briefly, then flying home from there. That way we could enjoy a week or two in Europe, which only had a few novel coronavirus cases at that time.

Left: View from our apartment, Right: Our next door neighbor

But by the time we arrived here in Spain, only two weeks later, things had really heated up. We thought we’d have a typical tourist stopover in Spain, revisiting Madrid (we were in Madrid four years ago, back in 2016), and exploring a new city, Valencia, but those hopes have been dashed.

We’re still enjoying ourselves, but there’s a black cloud hovering overhead and it’s hard to shake. In reality there’s mostly blue skies and temps in the high 60’s to low 70’s. Even with the beautiful weather, a lovely beach about 25 minutes away, amazing architecture and charm everywhere, we’re looking forward to getting home.

We’re keeping our fingers crossed that the good people of Seattle haven’t bought up every last tube of toilet paper before we make it home. We hear it’s a hot commodity.

Wins and Losses

Wins

Having an eerily empty flight from our layover in Doha, Qatar to Madrid, Spain. Probably only 20% full on a huge plane. Plenty of room to socially distance with ease.

Fried potato tapas with garlic mayo.
Fried calamari with dipping mayo in the background.
Hmmm…I’m sensing a theme here.

Tapas and bakeries everywhere. Fried potatoes seem to be a favorite tapas around here. Crispy on the outside, creamy on the inside – topped with garlic mayonnaise. Enough said.

Finding a hefty stash of hand sanitizer in Thailand, enough to last the rest of our trip with some to spare.

Having a lovely one bedroom apartment to hide out in, located a one minute walk to the largest fresh food market in Valencia.

Losses

Having a second cockroach visitor, albeit a bit smaller, in the wee hours of the morning two nights after our first encounter.

Coronavirus. Definitely a loss in every way imaginable – for so many people. Hope the worst of it will be a distant memory soon.
Note: this was written twenty days ago. How fast things have changed.

What’s a Wat? A Cambodian Tale

Posted February 26, 2020

The Shampoo Mantra

Steve with all his hair (no cut for six months)

Lather, rinse, repeat. After 35 years of marriage, I just learned that my husband, Steve, actually lathers, rinses, and repeats. I thought everyone knew that those instructions are just to sell more shampoo. Right? Or maybe it’s me and I have bad hygiene. I never “repeat”. Or maybe it depends on how often you shampoo, or how dirty your hair gets?

Yes, traveling long term with very limited supplies you learn some new things, like how much shampoo someone really uses.

Anyway….

The Bathroom Sink

As I hand-washed my shirt, bra, and underwear in the hotel bathroom sink for the sixth day in a row, kneading and swirling to get adequate suds, that phrase, “Lather, Rinse, Repeat”, popped into my head and stuck. It’s so blazing hot and humid in Cambodia that after only an hour (or less) in the great outdoors, it’s necessary to strip down and wash out everything that was touching your body. And I mean everything. It’s the kind of hot and sweaty where you can’t even stand yourself.

Wat Explained

Angkor Wat is the most famous of the ancient Khmer temples in Angkor Archeological Park, and a Unesco World Heritage Site. The word “Wat” is borrowed from Sanskrit meaning ‘enclosure’. The term has varying meanings in different regions, sometimes referring to a specific type of government recognized or large temple, other times referring to any Buddhist or Hindu temple.

“Good” Spirits lining the entrance to Angkor Thom

Over a week’s time we visited eighteen Wats throughout the greater Siem Reap region, some as close as a fifteen minute drive, others as far away as a one and a half hour drive. Every temple had unique and amazing attributes.

“Pleeeease Buy From Me”

The vendors at each Wat are ruthless in their pursuit to get visitors to buy their wares. Numerous vendors, ages five to fifty, swarm us as we disembark from our Tuk-Tuk (a small, open air “chariot” pulled by a motorbike, very common in SE Asia). Walking the miles of red dirt, dusty temple paths, I hear, “Hi Madame, pleeeease buy from me. Two for one dollar, or five for two dollars”.

No thank you.

“Maybeeee later. You think about it. You come back and buy from meeee. Come to my shop. You look”.

No thank you.

“Ok, then, you stop by lateeer. You promise? You come to my shop lateeer.”

No thank you.

They walk along with you, sticking like glue and leaning into your face, often blocking your way, and typically repeating their pleas for twenty or thirty feet before finally giving up.

Melting: A Fashion Statement

Praeh Ko, in front of woman’s temple. A non-sweaty me. Turns out I don’t take pictures when I look like death.

Yesterday it was 99 degrees with 87% humidity. And what’s really bad, as I have mentioned, is that I’m not great in the heat. I show the heat. No poker face for me. After only a few minutes in the strong Cambodian sun, my face is dripping sweat and I look like I’m about to die. There’s no hiding it. I look much worse than I feel. So, one look at my face and the vendors hawking cold drinks come in for the kill. Oh, and the vendors selling fans. I’m a walking, sweating target.

Buyer Beware

I know these vendors are only trying to make a living. And sometimes I do buy a cold drink (but I already bought a fan in Thailand back in October).

We’ve been warned to not buy from children, since it discourages them from attending school if they can make money off the tourists. Probably half the vendors are children.

A Pretty Picture

Now that I’ve painted such an enticing picture of visiting the temples of Angkor Archeological Park, including walking miles of dry, dusty paths, being badgered relentlessly by vendors, and sweating more than you thought possible, I must tell you that it’s all worth it.

Walking through the ruins, many of which are partially or completely restored, with the history, the artistry, the architectural design, and the sheer magnificence is so worth it. Visiting is worth all the sweat one could muster and all the dust one could walk through. No question.

Time to Prep

Prior to our arrival in Cambodia, I’d read some advice suggesting we visit the Angkor National Museum before visiting the Wats, so that’s what we did. We learned a lot about the history of the ancient Khmer sites, as well as architectural elements to look for while touring the Wats.

The temples of the Angkor Wat Archeological Park were built long ago, between 900 and 1200 AD. Many were built as Hindu temples, then changed to a Buddhist temple (and vice versa), depending on who was reigning at the time. Unfortunately some beautiful carvings are scratched out due to these changes over time, but most remain intact.

Many temples were not discovered until the 1970’s or later. These hidden gems hold great pride for Cambodia, and many have been (or are being) carefully restored and preserved.

The Plan

Because of the balmy conditions, our plan of attack was to buy a seven day pass and spread out our visits in small, half-day chunks, rather than going hard all-in for one to three days, like most people do.

So with our pass in hand, we visited eighteen Wats over six days, taking only one day off to give my knees a break.

There’s tons of steep and uneven stairs, lots of ups and downs over large stone building blocks, and plenty of ducking down required due to low door thresholds of the ancient, much smaller people of the time.

Steve banged his forehead on this low doorway moments after reading the warning sign. Bad enough to scab up. I made him pose for this picture, to his horror.

Each day we’d decide on the next day’s itinerary, schedule with Kim, the sweet tuk-tuk driver that practically lives at our small hotel, and off we’d go.

Yeah, sure-sure

Kim, our Tuk-Tuk driver, and his two kids

Kim understood more English than he could speak. It worked out pretty well most of the time. One phrase he used quickly and often was, “Yeah, sure-sure”. It was a way to acknowledge and/or agree, but over time we realized it was almost like an automatic response, and didn’t necessarily equal comprehension. Even so, Kim was a great driver and was able to give us good recommendations, making our trips to the Wats memorable and special.

And we especially appreciated his bright, tropical variety of shirts.

Cambodian Tuk-Tuks

Cambodian Tuk-Tuk’s are unique, unlike any we’d seen in SE Asia. Most Tuk-Tuk’s, including Kim’s, consist of a motorbike pulling a covered trailer with two padded bench seats facing one another. They can turn on a dime, but don’t go particularly fast. They are loud and don’t have shock absorbers, so the ride can be pretty bumpy.

Our “ride” for the week (Cambodian Tuk-Tuk)

Using the Tuk-Tuk as our primary mode of transportation was great fun. The Tuk-Tuk’s open air nature is heavenly (no exaggeration) as we rumbled down the road, the wind cooling our sweaty bodies. I felt more a part of the city and countryside touring around in a Tuk-Tuk, as opposed to an enclosed van or bus.

Lintels, Doors, and More

Lintels

I’m a devoted lintel fan. A lintel is a structural horizontal block that spans the space or opening between two vertical supports, typically over a door or window. We saw stunning examples of lintels at the Wats.

The Trees

Ancient trees wind in, out, and through the ruins of Angkor Wat Archaeological Park.

Doors

So many doors to choose from. Sometimes the Wat architects would create a fake door- that’s how much they liked their doors.

Standing Strong

Over and over we saw examples of door frames still standing intact with the surrounding structure crumbled from centuries of neglect, weather, and disuse.

A Rich Red

One of my favorite temples was Banteay Srei. The temple was created using the local ruddy red dirt, giving the buildings and carvings a beautiful red richness. Simply breathtaking.

Monkey Guards at Banteay Srei , Siem Reap, Cambodia

Reliefs

Angkor Wat is home to massive sandstone relief carvings. The carvings are six feet high and span over 600 yards of wall, comprised of several galleries covering the entire outer walls on all four sides of the temple. The carvings are incredibly detailed, representing eight different Hindu religious and historic epics.

The east gallery is decorated by the most famous of the bas-relief scenes at Angkor Wat, the Churning of the Ocean of Milk, depicting the beginning of time and the creation of the world. This Hindu creation story is revisited over and over throughout the Wats in the park.

Churning of the Ocean Milk (creation story), Angkor Wat

Almost every temple in the Angkor Wat Archeological Park has amazing carved reliefs, including ancient carvings of apsara dancing woman, intricately carved columns, and Sanskrit writings.

Entry Gates

Some of the sites have acres and acres of large and sprawling grounds filled with towering trees of many varieties. Such sites have magnificent entry gates on all sides, miles apart from each other.

Stone statues line the road to the gate.
One side lined with good spirits, the other with evil spirits.

Faces

The Bayon temple is best known for its large number of faces sculpted on its stone towers. While most towers contain four faces, some only have three, and one tower only bears a single face. Amazingly, it’s the same face depicted on every tower.

Originally there were a total of 49 towers, decorated with large carved faces looking four directions. Now 37 towers remain with close to 200 faces. The largest faces are just over 8 feet high. It’s a mystery as to what (or who) the faces of Bayon represent. Bayon was first thought to be a Hindu temple, but was later discovered to be a Buddhist temple, which only complicated the speculation.

Whoever or whatever the face represents, I get a peaceful and serene feeling gazing at it. The repetition of that face, over and over on each tower, looking out in multiple directions to the jungles beyond the temple grounds is unforgettable.

Wins and Losses

Wins

Finding an absolutely lovely hotel, with a pool, complimentary breakfast, and helpful hosts for $22 a night.

Seeing Cambodian life from a Tuk-Tuk. Lots of school kids riding bikes and the occasional cow.

Seeing monkeys in the wild at several temples. Mom & dad, teenager, and baby monkeys playing, grooming, and hanging out.

No mosquitoes to speak of- definitely unexpected. No need for the deet!

Close up encounters with water buffaloes. ❤️

Uncrowded temples due to tourism downturn as a result of Covid-19. Bummer reason, but good for us.

Being back in a country with plenty of monks. I love seeing the monks going about their day.

Losses

Spending more money in Cambodia than we’d budgeted due to Angkor Wat Park fees, daily Tuk tuk tours, and elevated food prices in town. Still cheap overall, just not as cheap as we’d expected.

Pub Street: who could have guessed Cambodia would have a major party street named “Pub Street”? Touristy and party-centric. Not our scene, although we did find some good restaurants.

Having to be more and more cognizant of Covid-19 developments. We’ve talked with several fellow travelers that have had their flights cancelled (connecting through Hong Kong, for instance) or are otherwise making travel adjustments. As noted in my last post, we’ve decided to head to the islands in southern Thailand for two weeks (instead of a month) and added fifteen days in Spain en route to home (rather than visiting Laos, Malaysia, or Bali). We’ll be lighting in Seattle on March 18 and couldn’t be more thankful for the amazing adventures we’ve had so far.

Phu Quoc: The Unexpected

Posted February 12, 2020

Our ten nights in Phu Quoc came with the unexpected, in more ways than one.

The Recommendation

A family of fellow long-term travelers from the U.K. had moved on to Phu Quoc, a small Vietnamese island in the Gulf of Thailand. The dad, Aaron, and I, were keeping in touch to swap travel information. After a few days on the island, Aaron messaged me that Phu Quoc wasn’t worth visiting and he advised us to skip it. That message arrived just after I booked our non refundable ten night stay on the island. Needless to say, our expectations were low. Thankfully we had a much different take on Phu Quoc than our U.K. friends.

Ong Lang Beach

Even though Phu Quoc is a small island, there are several beaches and different regions. Luckily, our hotel sat a four minute walk down a little lane to a pristine beach. The kind of beach you see on postcards. There were other people around, but not too many. It was so lovely.

What A View

We rented two functional, albeit rickety, loungers with a faded lime green umbrella for 100,000 dong a day, the equivalent of about four dollars.

The loungers sat a few feet from the water’s edge.

Like A Swimming Pool

The water was clear as a pool, and so warm that you’d swear you were in a hot tub in some spots. I could walk out for sixty feet and only be up to my thigh. Another thirty feet would take me waist deep, where the water was finally a bit cooler and refreshing.

The Village

Up the meandering lane, a few minutes from our hotel, in the opposite direction from the beach, were ten or so little family run restaurants, a small mini-mart, and bike rental shops. All the restaurants on this warm and sunny island were open-air and casual. Some had retractable tarp-like roofs, others were completely outdoor, with little to no cover.

One of many stray dogs lounging at our hotel

There was hardly any traffic, other than foot traffic from other travelers, little tame and sweet dogs lounging about in the sun, and the occasional cow with her calf eating off-limits, but apparently very yummy, foliage (and getting chased away by restaurant owners).

The Beauty Bar

One of the family owned restaurants up the lane, called The Beauty Bar, stole my heart. Firstly, The Beauty Bar has it all. They provide massages, manicures, and scrumptious Thai food. It’s a unique combination of services, but I guess it works.

Secondly, the sound system at the restaurant churned out rock and roll classics like the Rolling Stones and Queen, which was a welcome taste of home.

Last, but not least, the food was incredible. I’ve missed my spicy Thai food, and here it was, ready and waiting on this tiny island in Vietnam.

But the icing on the cake, and what made The Beauty Bar really stand out, was how genuinely friendly the family who runs it is.

Can I Take Your Order?

On our first visit to The Beauty Bar, a young woman carrying an order pad approached, then took a chair at our table, settling in to her seat. That was a first. She had a welcoming smile and casual vibe. She leaned forward, exuding warmth, as if we were old friends. Then she took our order.

How Spicy Do You Want That?

When ordering in SE Asia, we are often asked how spicy we’d like our food. It’s always a difficult question to answer because I like my spice at about a 5 to 7, whereas Steve likes a 3 to 5 (on my imaginary 10 point spicy scale).

To keep it easy, we typically answer “medium”. The problem is that medium has many interpretations, especially in SE Asia.

Hurts So Good

The Phad Kra Pao (my favorite and go-to dish at The Beauty Bar), left my tongue in a state unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I thought I’d had some darn spicy meals in my life, but apparently those were child’s-play.

Seriously, my mouth, inside and out, was on fire. My tongue ached with pulsating pain except when I was bathing it in ice water. With each sip I held the cool, soothing water on my tongue as long as possible, finally swallowing after it turned warm and lost its effectiveness. It was a four Kleenex evening (my nose also wouldn’t stop streaming). And I was only sweating a little. But the spiciness seemed to make the dish. I loved it.

A Friendly Lot

Later in our meal, the same woman walked over and, once again took a seat with us on the bright orange-red wooden benches, made comfortable by the generous pads on each seat. She didn’t ask if she could join us, but her warmth shined through and we were happy she sat down.

A Family Struggles

The stranger at our table introduced herself as Ta. Ta is 32 years old and was born in Cambodia to Vietnamese parents. She told us her parents had eight children. She remembers not terribly long ago when they didn’t even have money for rice. They would go hungry. During that time Ta’s sister moved to Thailand to work and sent money home to support the entire family. Ta stayed in Phu Quoc and watched her sister’s two children. Her sister met and eventually married a Swiss man and now lives in Switzerland.

A New Start

The Beauty Bar: Restaurant, Massages & Manicures

Two years ago her sister, along with her new Swiss husband, had the means to purchase The Beauty Bar to provide a living for Ta’s entire extended family. It’s a small place, with only four tables and a small bar.

Ta spoke with such emotion of her sister’s generous heart, moving her hands to her own heart to emphasize the point. The look on her face was one of pure gratitude and love. Ta and her sister Skype daily. They are very close, even though they live on different continents.

One Happy Family

Every time we ate at The Beauty Bar, the whole family remembered us and would wave and greet us, ushering us to our seats.

After our first visit we felt like we were best-friends with Ta. On subsequent visits we also got to know her sister, mother, and nephew, who were always at the restaurant helping or hanging out, chatting or playing the game “Four in a Row” with customers at the bar or at a table.

A Foodies Dream

I loved The Beauty Bar’s red and green curries, but my very favorite, as mentioned above in the paragraph Hurts So Good, was the Phad Kra Pao. Phad Kra Pao is diced meat (your choice), stir-fried in a scrumptious sauce, steamed rice, all with a fried egg on top.

Secret Recipe?

Before leaving that first night, I asked Ta if she would share her recipe for Phad Kra Pao with me, thinking it was unlikely. She sat down close to me on the bench, patting my leg, and said she would love to. She listed off the ingredients, but there were several that I couldn’t understand. With the help of google images, we were finally able to get a list of all the ingredients, except one. And apparently this one item is critical for a good Phad Kra Pao.

The Mystery Herb

Per Ta, the key ingredient is some form of mint. She said it can only be found in Cambodia (where she was born) or Thailand (where she lived briefly and learned how to cook Thai food). Apparently this special mint has quite a kick to it, which is what makes the dish so special.

The Secret Stash

Without hesitation, Ta said to come by on our last day on Phu Quoc and she’d give us some of her seeds to take home. We told her we weren’t sure if we are allowed to bring seeds into our country, but she insisted. She was so excited for us to cultivate the herb, that we couldn’t refuse.

A Family Affair

Our last night on the island came too quickly. We sat at The Beauty Bar after dark, enjoying the lovely 78 degree weather while the Bohemian Rhapsody soundtrack blasted loud and clear.

Ta’s mother smiled and waved to me as she sat relaxing with her feet up on the chair at a table nearby. Ta’s nine year old nephew brought us our drinks. Up at the bar, Ta and her sister were doing a shot with a patron while playing “Four in a Row”. Everyone was having a great time, like it was a casual party of friends.

It Might Not Be Legal

Ta came over holding a baggie of mystery seeds from Cambodia. She sat close to me on my bench with her beautiful, big smile. She was so excited to hand over the seeds – the key to a great Phad Kra Pao.

I thanked Ta profusely for the seeds, but explained again that I wasn’t sure if we were allowed to bring them into our country. She smiled, patted my leg, and told me she was sure it was fine, then shoved the baggie into my purse. And that, was that.

We exchanged WhatsApp numbers and Ta will be awaiting a picture of her plant thriving in the Seattle soil this summer. I hope I can oblige.

Wins and Losses

Wins

Saying hello to all my little gecko friends suctioned to the walls and ceiling of the long, outdoor hallway outside our hotel room every day.

Finding a small Aloe Vera container at the tiny, limited mini-mart. Boy are we scaly.

I’m still able to eat gluten with no issues. Hello crepes and Vietnamese dumplings for breakfast!

Taking a chance on Phu Quoc Island. You win some, you lose some, but this was definitely a win. And, so far, our favorite place for relaxing.

Losses

Coronavirus. What a drag. So sad for everyone affected. Also sad that, to be cautious, we have cut the SE Asia portion of our trip short by a month, but instead will spend 15 nights in Spain on the way home.

TMI warning: I thought I might need medical attention a few hours after our last dinner on the island (at The Beauty Bar). Turns out if you eat super-spicy food, your pee stings – quite a lot. Who knew? But I must say, it was definitely worth it. No regrets.

Probably half the afternoons at the beach the local families would start up an hours long Karaoke session. There’s nothing quite like a tone deaf person singing Vietnamese songs at full blast for hours.

So sad to leave Vietnam after three months. What a diverse, interesting, and amazing country. Hope to be back someday.

Nha Trang: A Russian Holiday

Posted January 21, 2020

Where To Next?

We’re traveling for six to seven months with no set itinerary. Picking our next destination is always hard. Fun, but hard. It’s like perennially planning a new trip, every week or so.

The Prep

For a normal sized trip of a few weeks, I buy destinations travel books, I read travel blogs and forums, and I watch YouTube videos. Ad nauseum. I calculate the weather, the average highs and lows for when we’ll be traveling, determine the dates for shoulder season (our preference), and research all the holidays and festivals that might coincide and impact our trip. I research budget hotels, carefully balancing cost, location, and facility attributes. I make detailed notes on google docs, identifying both popular sites and hidden gems, complete with open days, hours, costs, and hints to avoid long ticket lines. In short, I plan the heck out of every trip.

Just Get Over It

But when you’re planning as you go, for extended travel, all that, well, most of that, goes out the window. I knew that was the case, but it’s still taken some getting used to. And some letting go.

The Bare Minimum

I still research our accommodations, some more than others. My criteria has gotten honed down to :

Location – are things mostly walkable?
Cost– I try to keep all SE Asia accommodations under $35 USD a night Often I’m well below that.
Air Conditioning – seems like everywhere where this is essential, it’s already included.
A private bathroom – I don’t actually mind sharing a bathroom, but a shared bathroom isn’t necessarily close to our room, and I’m not comfortable traveling down long, dark hallways or navigating stairs in the middle of the night, lol.
An included breakfast – This is negotiable, but we find it extremely convenient (and economical) to know where we’re getting our coffee & grub first thing in the morning, and many hotels include breakfast, if you look.

No Real Plan

A fellow traveler recently asked us how we decide where we’re going next. That was hard to answer. We do have a few “for sure” destinations we hope to visit in each country. And, as our travels have progressed, we’ve learned that we’d prefer keeping our travel days reasonably short, like a maximum of four to five hours of traveling.

Time to Decide

We’ve explored lots of northern Vietnam and we’re slowing making our way south. We’ve been in Quy Nhon for a week now. It’s a medium sized city on the coast of Vietnam and not touristy at all. Keeping with our short travel day criteria, Nha Trang is the next logical choice, but it’s reputation as a heavily touristed, party destination, overbuilt with high rise hotels, was a bit daunting.

Steve bobbing over the great waves in Nha Trang

We don’t do the club scene. In fact, we’re usually in bed by 8 or 9 pm (reading, watching Netflix, or on our laptops). We don’t especially like the Cancun or Miami-type beach scene, but we threw caution to the wind, and headed to Nha Trang.

I’m Easy

Once in Nha Trang, I bit the bullet and quickly adapted. High rises everywhere? Yes. Tourists everywhere? Yes. Hundreds of people on the beach? Yes. But the good in Nha Trang far outweighed the bad, at least for us.

Tourist-Town

We’ve already spent weeks and weeks in small and medium Vietnamese towns where we’d see very few foreigners (especially no Americans), so it was a nice change of pace to be in a place specifically catering to tourists, with our needs in mind. Getting up every morning and walking five minutes to the beach, with a readily available padded lounger and shade umbrella for rent ($3 USD a day with large beach towel & bottled water included), wasn’t a tough sell.

The incredibly beautiful beach, glorious sunshine, fine white sand, and great waves are a winning combination in my book. Nha Trang has the kind of waves that come in so close together that the entire coast looks like it’s covered in white, fluffy bubbles that contrast with the bright turquoise water that’s accented with navy and all shades of blue.

The Russkies

I have yet to mention one other aspect of the Nha Trang experience. Russians. And a few Chinese thrown in too, but mostly lots and lots of Russians.

The Allure of Nha Trang

The beautiful blues of the water, Nha Trang

We’d been warned about the huge number of Russians in Nha Trang by both fellow travelers and posts on travel forums. For some unknown reason, the Russians have taken a very strong liking to Nha Trang, Vietnam, and they can’t get enough of it. They are in Nha Trang in droves – and, in all of Vietnam, only Nha Trang. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Russian, but now I’ve spent every day for seven days surrounded by hundreds of them.

Big & Beefy

I hate to admit this, but my stereotype of a Russian is mostly from James Bond movies (and the like). Big, tall, muscular men, with commanding, deep voices, quite imposing, and often with a shaved head. And the women aren’t too dissimilar, except they have hair.

Well, after spending a full week with the Russians, I have to say that my stereotype wasn’t too far off. I would guess that close to half the men, and a good chunk of the women, met my expectations.

Many of the Russian men are huge. It’s especially noticeable because we have been surrounded by Vietnamese that we tower over and outweigh (by lots, I”m sorry to say) for months. So, suddenly being surrounded by hulking guys and their hulking families is quite a stark contrast.

Beachwear

One thing I have to say, the Russian women are very comfortable with their bodies, and kudos to them! Regardless of size, age, or body shape, Russian women wear a bikini. Young, teen-aged, middle-aged, old, and very old are all in bikinis. Skinny, chunky, pear-shaped, large busted, extremely large busted – any and all were in bikinis. I’m talking the kind of bikini that shows most of the behind, if you know what I mean. Not much is left to the imagination. In my opinion, this isn’t the most flattering look for all body types, but on the beach at Nha Trang, no one seems to give a hoot. And more power to them.

We’re Surrounded

There we sat, in our two beach loungers, among the hundreds of loungers filled with Russians. It was kind of surreal. We were a lone island of democracy (or a republic, if you want to be precise), in a giant Russian community of beachgoers. We were definitely the odd-men out, so to speak.

Hundreds of loungers line the beach, Nha Trang

Even more Russians, that live and work in Nha Trang, roamed the loungers, advertising their restaurant or massage services, handing out discount coupons or sample menus. I’m not sure how, but most vendors could tell we weren’t Russian, so bypassed us, but the occasional vendor would approach us, chatting away in Russian. They wouldn’t stay long. I think the blank stare and puzzled look on our faces were enough, and they would abruptly stop and quickly move on.

World Peace

I found it quite interesting being the only Americans (probably) in a sea of Russians. I really wanted to ask a Russian what they thought of us Americans. We are taught to distrust and be suspicious of Russians. I was so curious what we would have in common, which I’m sure is a lot.

I never did get up the nerve to reach out. I’m fairly certain that very few of the Russians spoke English, so it would have been a short conversation. And the only Russian word I learned all week, from hearing it a hundred times, was Nyet (means No or Not), which probably wouldn’t get us too far.

Like Bartells

It was about 100x more crowded than this picture shows

Not only was the beach full of Russians, but the whole section of town along the beachfront was like a Russian enclave. Advertisements along the street were in Russian. Menus in restaurants were in Russian (and often English too, thankfully). There was an unusually high number of stores that carried toiletries, like lotions, vitamins, soap, and shampoo, around town, with Russian advertising all over the front windows. These toiletry stores were unusually large and modern (most shops in Vietnam are small, mom & pop stores), so they really stuck out.

Morning, noon, and night, the toiletry stores were packed with Russian shoppers. We went into one to buy some sunscreen, and the prices were normal (sunscreen is expensive in Vietnam too). It was really strange, but obviously the Russians either use an extraordinary amount of toiletry products, or they are in short supply back home. I don’t know, but after our one experience trying to navigate in the crowded store we tried to steer clear of all the Russian-packed toiletry stores of Nha Trang.

Vacation In a Vacation

Being in Nha Trang was like a vacation from the Vietnamese-portion of our vacation. Of course, there were Vietnamese around, as well as Chinese, some French, and others, I’m sure. And there was still bat-s*&t crazy traffic, Banh Mi vendors everywhere (Vietnamese sandwich on a french baguette), and super cheap prices for almost everything.

We ate at an exceptional Indian restaurant several times, always surrounded (of course) by Russian families or couples. It was probably the best Indian food I’ve ever had. All in all, our week in Nha Trang was kind of like a Russian holiday, with an Indian cuisine twist and a darn nice beach. Yes, I think Nha Trang was the perfect choice for us. Now we’re refreshed and ready for more of the traditional Vietnam we know and love.

Wins and Losses

Wins

The cashews. Fresh cashews for sale everywhere. Best cashews ever.

Seeing the first signs of the Tet (Vietnamese New Year). The Vietnamese decorate with flowers. What a lovely tradition. And each city or region has it’s own flower. For Nha Trang, it is yellow mums. Yellow mums were being sold on every street corner and were already prominently displayed at the entry of many hotels and businesses.

Seeing real Russians doing usual and normal things just like everyone else. Wow, mind blown.

Happening upon a dragon competition along the beachfront. Amazing display of talented athletes performing incredible stunts and “dancing” as dragons.

Realizing body shaming is not a thing in Russia. Loved seeing women proud of who they are, no matter their size, shape, or age.

Fresh fruit vendor on the beach, Nha Trang

Fresh fruit vendors on the beach – quite a treat. A whole pineapple cut-up on the spot. Dripping, sweet, and all ours.

Losses

Why didn’t we buy any cashews until our very last day in Nha Trang? What, are we crazy? We walked by the enormous bags of bulk cashews for sale all week. Silly, silly foreigners.

Not taking the unique opportunity to start a conversation with a Russian. I think I was a bit nervous that we’d get into politics, and then who knows what would have happened (I was outnumbered, after all). I suppose if things got tense, I could have fallen back on how good Putin looks shirtless (Nyet!!!).

Quy Nhon: We Just Want to Eat

January 15, 2020

Ky Ko Beach

Quy Nhon (pronounced Weee Nawn) has an undeniably beautiful beach stretching three miles along the eastern edge of the city. The sand is an unusual tan-orange color, soft and fine. The beach is expansive, virtually deserted, and has a wide tile promenade, complete with artwork and lovely tended gardens the full length of the promenade.

In a word, the beach is easy.

But when it comes to eating in Quy Nhon, well, that’s another story. It takes more thought and energy than one would think…

The tile promenade along the beach front

The Three Waitresses

Three young waitresses, probably in their early to mid twenties, stand far behind me in the back of the large open air restaurant, huddled closely in a tight circle, whispering. Steve has a good view of them. They gathered back there as soon as they saw us come into the restaurant and take a seat.

Two of the three little girls at the restaurant

I can only see in the opposite direction, facing out to the street, where three young girls, ages six to eight (I’d guess), all dressed up in brightly colored gauzy dresses and glitter covered dress shoes, carry a toddler awkwardly down the sidewalk. They are working together, laughing. One has the toddlers head, the other two have his feet. The toddler is flopping around, mostly horizontal to the ground, but definitely not secure. I’m a bit worried that they’ll drop him and he’ll hit his head on the tile sidewalk. He is squealing with delight, loving all the attention from the older kids.

Now or Never

Suddenly my attention is diverted back to our table, where all three waitresses have just appeared. They are standing three in a row at the short end of the table, looking down at us. Two of the three are holding cell phones opened to the Google Translate app.

Time to Order

The three waitresses look like they are ready for the challenge of us, the foreigners. One of the young waitresses sets a menu (just one) on our table, which is typical in Vietnam. The menu is in Vietnamese (only), which explains their concern. They don’t see many English speakers here, and they aren’t sure how to handle us. It’s “shoulder” season still, but even during “high” season Quy Nhon isn’t very touristy. And there are definitely not many American tourists at any time of the year.

The three waitresses stand for a moment and share a look, smiling nervously, and take a deep, collective breath. They’re probably wondering why we aren’t eating up on the main street in one of the few hotel restaurants. The restaurant we’re in is a few blocks back from the main drag through town. It’s in a part of town where the locals hang out. But don’t get me wrong, the waitresses seem welcoming, and willing to give it a go.

Not wanting to be left out, I opened my Google translate app and select the camera function. In theory, I can hover my phone over the menu text and my app should magically translate the dishes into English, thus making ordering simple and straightforward. So far, this has never worked. Frankly I’m ready to give up on trying to translate menus. I’ve even downloaded another translator app and tried to google the words on menus with little to no success.

For proof, see the screen shot of my google translate above. Cooking the bat, Salt in the salt, Baking the burning, and Baking the shoe were among our menu choices, according to Google Translate.

Get Us Anything

We were hungry enough, and we’ve been in Vietnam long enough (over 50 days), that we’re ready to eat almost anything. Ok, that’s actually not true at all. I won’t eat goat, or dog, or a raw jellyfish, or little snails out of the shell that look like something I can’t even type here (Steve had them the other night). It’s too awful to put in print. But ask me someday, and I’ll be happy to tell you (I’m not a wimp- I’ve had snails many times, but no way was I eating these particular snails).

So here we are. We can’t make out any menu items. None at all, not even our fall-back item, spring rolls. Two of the three waitresses were trying to converse with us via the phone app, simultaneously. It’s difficult enough to follow one conversation using a translator app, let alone two competing conversations. It seems both waitresses wanted to take the lead (to help the Americans), but instead everyone was just getting more confused.

Finally I typed out “noodles” and held up my phone. Eureka, noodles was understood! Everyone smiled with relief. One of the waitresses indicated we could have fried noodles and something. Sounded great, we’ll take it! In the end we were served a heaping plate of fried noodles with seafood and vegetables. Yum.

Cheat Sheet

We’ve always compiled a handy cheat sheet of basic food terms for the country we’re traveling in, like beef, chicken, potatoes, etc, but, here in Vietnam, the same word doesn’t always mean the same thing. The word’s meaning depends on the context (when written) and intonation (when spoken). Yeah, so that’s making things a bit complicated for folks like us, just trying to eat.

English Subtitles

We have become more and more adventurous and trusting when ordering food. It’s either give it a go, or go hungry.

And even when food is labeled in English, it doesn’t always help.

Check out the four soup options from a local soup restaurant we ate at one afternoon. These were the only choices. They all have labels in English, but someone please tell me what the Fortune part of Flour Noodles and Fortune is? And the Noodle Soup obviously has way more in it than just noodles (what is that big blob of brown stuff?)! And Jellyfish crab friedfish? That Jellyfish looks pretty raw to me….hopefully it’s not still alive!

Celebrity or Oddity?

Just like the two waitresses that competed for our attention, we find we are in high demand, and perhaps a curiosity, here in Quy Nhon. Of course, we’ve had some of this same attention on our travels elsewhere in SE Asia, especially in Myanmar, but the amount of attention we got in Quy Nhon took us by surprise.

It feels very odd to get stares and double-takes from men, women, and children, several times a day. Kids biking by us would notice us, and yell out “Helloooo!”, and be thrilled when we would reply back in English.

We’d sit on the beach or at a beach side cafe and teenagers would stop and want to talk to us. But one young teen boy in particular stopped almost daily to “chat” with us while we were on or near the beach. He spoke no English at all, but seemed content to just talk at us while we smiled, nodded, and sat awkwardly.

The Mystery Man

One afternoon, a man approached us as we sat reading our kindles in lounge chairs at a nice hotel along the beachfront. We’re pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be using the loungers, since a sign at the wrought iron entrance gate said “Hotel Guests Only”, and we were staying at the budget hotel across the street.

The Lounge Chairs

The previous day we had spotted the hotel pool along the beachfront and I asked the pool attendant if we could pay to rent a couple of the loungers. He indicated we could use them for free – or at least that’s what I think he said. I tried again to explain that we weren’t hotel guests, (he spoke no English), but he ushered me over to the loungers with a big smile and motioned that I should sit. He then brought over nice blue and white striped lounger pads, and tied them to the loungers for us.

We felt a little guilty, but there was nowhere else on the beach with chairs or shade of any kind, and it was blazing hot in the sun, so we quietly slinked in through the back stairs day after day and impersonated hotel guests. We didn’t feel too bad because there was never anyone else using the loungers, except one guy, for one day. And that guy left via the back stairs too, so we’re thinking he was probably a fellow impostor.

You’re Busted

Anyway, back to our unexpected visitor. The man walked directly up to my lounger, stopping right at my lounging feet. He was explaining something to us in a language we couldn’t make out, looking first to Steve, then to me. He pointed to each of us, and to himself, then held up three fingers. My heart was beating wildly. I was sure we’d been found out. Here was the hotel manager come to send us packing.

Oh My

Instead, the man held out his phone and motioned that he’d like to take a selfie with Steve and I. It took a moment for me to calm myself. What, a selfie, you say? Who are you?

I had a lot of questions, but couldn’t communicate with whoever this was, and I was so thankful that we weren’t getting the boot that I stood and started positioning myself for the photo. I pulled Steve over to get into the picture too, as the man had indicated.

The mystery man leaned in close to me, held up his phone, and clicked. To my great surprise, the selfie was just us two, the man and me. No Steve. He seemed quite happy, nodded and smiled, and left us.

Quy Nhon Forever

In addition to getting selfies with strangers, reading in lounge chairs, swimming in the waves, and trying to get fed, we enjoyed beautiful Quy Nhon.

One afternoon we met a retired man from New Mexico who was staying in our hotel. He’d been in town for only two weeks when he decided to stay, forever. He had already rented a two bedroom apartment on the river for $300 USD a month with a six month lease.

I can see why he chose to stay in Quy Nhon. Her attributes are many – untouristy, a medium sized city, unpolluted, beautiful uncrowded beach, and friendly people. It’s quite a nice place.

Wins and Losses

Wins

We ate at two local noodle soup shops, without much knowledge of what we were ordering, and didn’t get sick either time.

We visited the Long Khanh Pagoda that housed a 56 foot, light blue-green Buddha and gorgeous grounds.

Quy Nhon has tubeless toilet paper = way more toilet paper per roll, but impossible to hang up.

Getting this great shot of Steve at Queen’s Beach!

Coffee shops bring you a complimentary glass of tea with every coffee order, so you sip on your tea until your coffee order is ready (and the coffee is amazing).

If you order beer, you will almost always get served first. You’ll also get a cup of ice – that’s how folks drink beer in Vietnam – on ice.

Losses

Restaurants have no napkins. Not a napkin in sight. But they do provide individually wrapped wet-wipes that sit on the table. Then, when you use one, they charge you for it. It’s only .08 cents, but it’s the principle of the thing, right? lol

It’s proving impossible to find good, fragrance free deodorant in SE Asia, so I’m having to try and find the least offensive scent. I have a great deodorant collection started, but I’m still on the hunt for a winner.

Hearing horrendous, ear-piercingly loud karaoke while sitting on the pristine beach (thankfully, it was short-lived).

If you want to drink anything other than beer, you will get served last, or maybe not at all. Non beer drinkers are low-priority in Vietnam.

Day 100: Wins, Losses & Lessons

January 1, 2020

One of my favorites! These young monks agreed to pose for me, but one (far left) was very shy. I love the expression on the far right monk’s face!

It’s our hundredth day away from home. It’s gone by fast, and yet also seems like we’ve been gone for ages. Steve and I have spent a month in Portugal, a week in Myanmar, three weeks in Thailand, and about forty days in Vietnam, so far. As we expected, traveling in Europe versus Asia is like night and day. That’s a big part of why I wanted to explore Asia.

Pondering independent travel to Asia was kind of scary. The language barrier far surpasses that found in Europe, although we did have some similar challenges in areas of Morocco, where we found only Arabic. I knew SE Asia would push me out of my comfort zone, and it has. It’s been both challenging and thrilling.

Wins

Chopsticks are no longer intimidating.

Traveling with small, 38 liter backpacks versus larger options was the right call. We’re so mobile and packing is quick and easy. And seeing travelers hauling around multiple giant suitcases or enormous backpacks makes me even more appreciative (and maybe a little smug).

Getting more and more silvery grey hair around my face (I’ve missed my stylist), but hey, at least grey is “in” now .

Food – all of it, but in particular: Asian thick, doughy noodles, spring rolls that melt in your mouth, any meat with spicy lemongrass chili sauce, fresh, warm baguettes (residual effect of the French in Vietnam), the strong Vietnamese coffee, and Portugal’s specialty, the Pasteis de Nata (little custard pies – usually warm out of the oven).

So far, we’ve had only a few, easily defeated skirmishes here in Asia with dreaded internal unrest (hoping that holds).

Heart of Darkness Brew- needs a bottle opener!

Steve’s dual-duty flip flops (with a built-in bottle opener in the sole – brand: Reef) have come in quite handy. We’re never without a bottle opener and are ready for any drink related emergency.

Staying most often in real neighborhoods, where locals work and live and children play, gives us the opportunity to feel immersed in the culture. Being in the thick of things, instead of in the tourist bubble zone, is often more challenging, but definitely worth it for the unique experiences it affords.

Exploring countless man-made wonders including the awe-inspiring Golden pagoda in Yangon, the colorful and ornate Buddhist temples of Thailand, the charming red rooftops and black and white tiled sidewalks of Lisbon, the terraced rice fields of Sapa, and the beautiful lanterns of Hoi An (just to name a few).

Woman chasing a water buffalo out of her garden while her daughter watches from their doorway

Getting up at sunrise just in time to watch a woman chase a water buffalo out of her vegetable garden on a steep mountainside in Sapa, Vietnam. She wildly waved her arms, screaming, and throwing the occasional rock with great fortitude.

No filter. No photoshop.
Coimbra, Portugal sunset

Having incredibly lucky timing (now and again), and happening upon such events as the Luang Prang Festival in Chiang Mai, Thailand (lantern festival), or walking into Tomar, Portugal, the very day of the annual torch procession of Knights Templar (and then finding that our room overlooks the procession route), or catching one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen in my life because the restaurant we were trying to find was closed.

Seeing the magnificence of nature while cycling through enormous karsts (limestone formations) on rural jungle backroads, hanging out with elephants, floating down remote and meandering rivers, lying on the glittering beaches of Portugal, trekking scenic mountains, admiring the green hillsides in Portugal (that reminded me of Tuscany), and exploring vast caves and hidden temples (just to name a few).

Taking pictures is such a passion of mine! Here are a few of my favorites that haven’t been on my blog (I think!).

View from our lunch table, Hanoi, Vietnam

Losses

When the hotel plumbing won’t handle toilet paper and all used tissue must be placed in a waste basket, even for number 2. Kind of gross. And pretty common. And I won’t even mention pit toilets… (oh, I guess I just did).

Pretty disheartening that even in Hanoi, Vietnam, where no one has a clue what Thanksgiving is, there are “Black Friday Sales” everywhere, complete with giant signage. Commercialism wins, even in Communist Vietnam.

Encountering a barking dog at night on a completely dark alley in a small town in Vietnam while riding a bicycle back to the hotel after dinner. Thought it was the end for me, and looking ahead, Steve had already passed the dog and left me in the dark (literally). Needless to say, I made it past the dog unscathed, but my heart was pounding out of my chest. No more dark alleys for me.

Realizing it’s probably time for that knee replacement surgery when we get home (my poor knees!)

No hot water at the Hoi An, Vietnam, homestay for over 36 hours. Heating our own water and bathing out of a bucket with a scoop. But no complaints from us because our host family had a much worse week. During our 7 day stay, both their kids, ages 2.5 and 4 months, had to go to the E.R. for high fevers twice AND the hosts sister was in a scooter accident and broke her arm and her leg. At the end of our stay the 2.5 year old had an emergency appendectomy! Hopefully better times ahead for their sweet family.

Lessons

Portugal & Vietnamese trains run on “military time”

Train tickets are way cheaper if you buy them at the station vs. online – like half the cost (in Vietnam).

Most of the world uses military time, i.e. 8:00 am is 8:00, whereas 1:00 pm is 13:00, and 4:00 pm is 16:00, and so on. It really makes so much sense. It’s way clearer, but I still find myself counting on my fingers to figure out the time.

I’ve realized that using a pit toilet would be WAY easier with a skirt on. It’s the western pants (loose, gauzy capris in my case) that require an extreme case of contortion-ism when toileting here in Asia.

You can never have too many zip lock baggies (I didn’t bring enough).

I was shoved a bunch at Wat Rong Khun
(the White Temple) in Chiang Rai.
It was very crowded with lots of Chinese tour groups.

Other nationalities have a FAR different concept of personal space, especially the Chinese. Giving you a little shove is perfectly acceptable, if you are in their way. Cutting in line is also just fine. It’s nothing personal. They don’t even notice….it’s just how it is, whereas, as an American, if I barely brush against someone I automatically apologize. Funny.

Blogging takes tons of time, as in probably 6-10 hours or more per post. This includes writing, editing, proofreading, getting my editor (Steve) to read through, and selecting and formatting pictures. That being said, I’m so pleased when I finish a post and have preserved wonderful memories.

The “Green Bus” in Chiang Mai is actually red

The “Green Bus” out of Chiang Mai is actually red. Ok, then. Good to know.

The best way to cross the street in a SE Asian city is to tag along, up close and personal, with a local. When they move, you move, and don’t dare look at the oncoming traffic. Because if you do, you’ll hesitate, and then you’re in big trouble.

Travel gives so much. As I travel I gain an amazing perspective on people, our differences and similarities. Getting to know our homestay host and her family, or making a connection with a waiter at a restaurant we’ve frequented, or befriending other travelers from all over the world, is what makes travel so special (and unlike anything else).

So many people live with so little. They work hard, have loving families and communities, and are happy. Traveling with minimal belongings really brings into focus how unimportant the material possessions back home are, and how very important relationships are (I miss my family, friends, and dog).

What’s Ahead

Our rough plan for the future includes fifty more days in Vietnam, then probably on to Cambodia for up to a month, then finishing up in the southern beaches of Thailand, or maybe Bali or Malaysia – or maybe a mixture of these final locations. We might squeeze a visit to Laos in there too.

We’ll head home to Seattle in mid-March to mid-April, just in time for baseball season (to Steve’s delight), and prime time Pacific Northwest spring gardening!

Happy 2020 to all my readers! Thanks for following along on our adventures!

The Lone Americans: Dong Hoi

Posted December 17, 2019

Welcome to Vietnam

Anh carried a Canon EOS 5D Mark IV DSLR camera. It’s a really nice, expensive camera. A beautiful thing, really.

We were walking along the waterfront in Dong Hoi after dinner one night, not far from our hotel, the Nam Long. Anh seemed eager to say hello, and we were happy to oblige.

Anh had just returned to Dong Hoi, his hometown. He’d been at university in Germany, studying Photography, which explains the nice camera. He was walking with a young woman, maybe a sister.

Anh was surprised to learn we were from the United States. He said he doesn’t see many Americans visiting Dong Hoi.

We’ve had the same experience as Anh. The majority of foreigners we encounter are from Netherlands, France, and Germany. We rarely come across Americans.

We shook hands and parted ways. As we walked away, Anh said warmly, “Welcome to Vietnam”.

The American War

It’s our experience that the Vietnamese people are friendly and welcoming. At times I’ve felt uncomfortable as we’ve traveled in Vietnam when we’ve encountered evidence of the atrocities of the American War (what Americans call the Vietnam War).

All that remains of the Catholic Church, Dong Hoi

The city of Dong Hoi, where we stayed for three nights, was destroyed during the war. Almost everything in the city was annihilated. Only the remnants of a Catholic Church and one water tower stood after the constant bombings. The government plaque in front of what remains of the church states that the church’s destruction is “evidence of war crimes by the American aggressors”.

Propaganda and Facts

There’s a definite mix of government propaganda, as well as facts, in the presentations of the war sites and the museums we’ve visited. But considering 70% of Vietnamese are under the age of 35 and have only been exposed to one side, it’s really quite amazing that they seem to hold no animosity towards Americans.

Even on our day trip to two local caves, the American War came up a couple of times.

Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park

Farmer plowing the field (with buffalo power),
taken from the bus heading to the National Park

We had arranged for a one day excursion to see the Paradise and Phong Nha caves, two of the largest caves in the world, located in the Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park, about an hour from Dong Hoi.

Our Tour Group

We were the only Americans, out of the group of eleven, traveling on the “Tour the Caves” tour that day.

View hiking up to the Paradise Cave entrance

There were three Japanese, a solo French woman in her 20’s, a solo 20 something Japanese woman, a German man traveling with a French woman, a solo German woman in her late 50’s (who had had terrible food poisoning the prior day – ugh), and another solo 50 something woman from Holland, who was also staying at our same hotel.

During a rest break from hiking up to our first cave, Kate (our guide) told Steve and I that she had studied at a University in southern Vietnam to become an English teacher. When she returned to her town near Dong Hoi, happy and ready to begin work as an English teacher, the officials demanded a large bribe before they would hire her. She couldn’t afford the bribe, and ended up working as a guide, which she loves and (she said) pays better.

Phong Nha Cave

Phong Nha cave is a wet cave, meaning a river flows through it. To reach the cave we took a boat upriver about thirty minutes.

During the height of the rainy season the water level gets so high that boats cannot pass through the cave.

Thankfully it hadn’t rained much the past week, and we were able to visit the cave, even though the rainy season doesn’t end until the end of the month. Just a couple of weeks earlier and we wouldn’t have been able to enter Phong Nha cave.

Entrance to Phong Nha Cave (left: far shot, right: close up)

A few hundred feet inside the cave was a beautiful, fine sand beach leading into a huge dry passage. At this point in the cave the ceiling was hundreds of feet high and wide, with an expansive feel.

The boat pulled up onto the beach, where we got off. The sand was powdery and white, and created a steep incline into the dry passage above.

The Underground Hospital

The beach was pristine and peaceful, but this very same beach, and the corresponding dry compartment, were an underground hospital during the American War. It was the safest place to house the wounded.

We walked up the beach and through the passage, admiring the majesty and incredible beauty, while also picturing the horrors of wounded soldiers who laid here, hoping to recover.

Our tour guide, Kate, recounted the war hospital story matter of factly, without any apparent judgement.

The American War is just one chapter in a very long and sordid history of occupation and foreign wars in Vietnam.

Kate also told us that the area’s children are still affected by agent orange, the chemical defoliant used by the Americans during the war.

Ho Chi Minh Trail

This same cave was a part of the Ho Chi Minh trail, used during the war to transport troops and supplies between north and south Vietnam. We entered the cave in Vietnam, but if you follow the river upstream for about 15 miles, you’d pop out in Laos, west of central Vietnam.

My Cave’s Bigger than Your Cave

According to our guide, Kate, Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park in Vietnam contains two of the three largest caves in the world. The number two cave is in Malaysia. Back at the hotel we googled this, and it turns out there are lots of ways to measure and/or rank cave size. So anyway…

For the time being, everyone considers Hang Son Doong, here in Vietnam’s Phong Nha-Ke Bang National Park, to be the largest cave in the world. It was discovered only a few years ago in 2013. Son Doong currently stretches across 38.5 million cubic meters (about 1.35 billion cubic feet) — so big, it even has its own jungle inside. To reach Hang Son Doong requires a strenuous four day hike with camping and trekking inside the cave.

Excursions to the cave are tightly regulated and only a few hundred people a year are allowed in. You must book up to a year in advance, be very fit, and have a generous travel budget. It costs three thousand dollars per person for the four day excursion.

Kate laughed when she told us there’s a cave competition among the Southeast Asian countries. Even though Vietnam has the #1 and #3 largest caves in the world, they are always looking for more caves to make sure they stay on top.

Paradise Cave

The other cave we visited was Paradise Cave, perhaps the third largest cave in the world (according to Kate). It was discovered by a local man in 2005, and opened to the public in 2010.

The Vietnamese government handsomely rewarded the man, who now lives a very different life than he did prior to his discovery.

We entered the cave and went down, down, down maybe a hundred stairs, descending into the depths of the cave.

The cave is full of countless shapes, forms, and colors, and is beautifully lighted throughout. There were stalagmites (upward growing mound of mineral deposits) and stalactites (downward growing mineral deposits hanging from a cave ceiling) in every size and shape.

Everywhere I looked I was struck by the grandeur of the cave. It truly was awe inspiring.

Just Like Silly-Sand

As I walked through the caves I was reminded of Silly-Sand, a toy I played with as a child. Silly-Sand came with several plastic containers of colored, wet sand, each with a pointed squeeze spout. I’d squeeze out droplets of wet sand, creating mounding structures.

My Silly-Sand structures were very much like what we were seeing throughout the caves, only my structures were built in minutes versus the cave’s thirty to forty million year evolution.

Sooooo Big

It’s impossible to adequately describe the feeling of being in an enormous cave. We’d move through and under low cave ceilings, only to emerge into absolutely enormous open caverns that looked like a whole neighborhood would fit inside.

Kate said a 40 story building could fit in the largest cavern of the Paradise cave.

Most sections are immense and expansive, while others are small and intimate. And some sections look like you’re on another planet. It’s otherworldly.

The Chess Challenge

After a wonderful day exploring Phong Nha and Paradise caves, we had a delicious dinner back in Dong Hoi at The Treehugger Cafe. At the end of our meal, our waitress (who we think was German) came over and asked us for a favor. I assumed she was going to ask us to do a TripAdvisor review, like so many restaurants ask, but instead she pointed to a ten year old Vietnamese boy across the restaurant.

The boy was sitting in front of a chess board at the cafe’s tour desk. She explained that he’s a local boy who frequently comes to the cafe and plays chess with the staff, but today was different. Today he hoped to play against the bearded American. For anyone wondering, Steve did win the game, but admitted the boy was a worthy opponent.

I don’t know if the local people, like Steve’s young chess buddy, have the means or finances to visit the Phong Nha – Ke Bang National Park and the world renowned caves there, but I sure hope so.

Wins & Losses

Wins

Happening upon five men building a fairly large boat along the shore of the South China Sea. So skilled.

Watching the Nhật Lệ Bridge’s night lights change color from hot pink to red to blue and green.

Meeting Ken, the cute puppy owned by our hotel clerk. According to the hotel clerk, Vietnamese like to name their dogs American names. I have no idea why and neither did she. Common dog names in Vietnam are Ken, Eric, and Bailey.

Losses

Walking a very long way to Nha Le beach only to discover the dozens of outdoor restaurants and beach facilities were closed for the “winter season”, with me really, really needing to use a bathroom. Note: It was 75 degrees, apparently Dong Hoi’s winter chill.

Ninh Binh: Karsts and Caves

Posted December 15, 2019

Ninh Binh

Ninh Binh. It’s pronounced just like you’d think: Nin Bin. For some reason that I can’t put my finger on, I really enjoy saying Ninh Binh. It’s just kind of fun to say.

Ninh Binh, Ninh Binh, Ninh Binh. Yes, it’s got a certain ring to it.

The Recommendation

A fellow traveler, a solo woman from Washington DC, who had been to Vietnam countless times, highly recommended Ninh Binh to Steve one morning during breakfast in our Hanoi hotel. She liked it even better than Halong Bay, she said. Halong Bay is a famous Vietnam destination that is overflowing with tourists, and for good reason.

The Upgrade

After our days in Sapa, we had reservations for our second overnight train south to Hanoi, with our ultimate destination of Ninh Binh. In Sapa, we learned that the train company had entered our reservation incorrectly, for the 27th of December, rather than the 7th. It wasn’t a big deal, but they felt badly, so they upgraded us to a private compartment. What a wonderful surprise.

Morning People Rejoice

We arrived in Hanoi at 4:30 am, a bit early in anyone’s book. The next train to Ninh Binh was leaving at 6 am, and we planned to be on it. It was a short 2.5 hour ride.

A Change of Plans

After all my talk of the name Ninh Binh, I must confess that we actually stayed in the town of Tam Coc, about 15 minutes west of Ninh Binh. Sorry Ninh Binh, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’d read that Tam Coc was closer to all the sites we’d want to see, and very bicycle friendly. So, Tam Coc it was.

Karsts

The big draw in the Tam Coc area are the ancient limestone formations that suddenly jet up, jagged and beautiful, out of the otherwise completely flat terrain (karsts). Many call the area the Halong Bay of the land. I wasn’t sure if it would seem repetitive, after visiting Halong and Bai Tu Long Bays a couple of weeks ago, but it wasn’t. Not at all.

Bicycles for Rent

Our hotel rents bikes for a couple of bucks a day. The flat terrain is ideal for bicycling, not to mention there is very little traffic on the one main road through town.

The first day Steve’s bike had a beige, hard plastic child seat secured right behind his seat. I thought it was quite funny.

Then, the second day, both our bikes were so equipped. We looked like two foreigners who had somehow misplaced our children, riding along with empty child seats.

I’m Only Joking

Our hotel proprietor, who was forever grinning, happily shook his head up and down in agreement as I made a joke that we could pick up a cute kid or two as we bicycled through town. It’s probably not a great idea to joke with someone who has limited understanding of what you’re saying. As we departed for our ride, I was wondering if he would quickly run and alert the authorities about what I’d just said.

New Territory

All was well on our ride, and we weren’t followed. The weather was perfect, almost 70 degrees and sunny.

Five minutes out of town and we had the paths all to ourselves. We peddled out to two pagodas. There were wide open vistas broken up by karsts, long paths into rural areas, and dense jungle too.

We came to a picturesque, relaxing river, and sat on a park bench admiring the view. I’m not sure if that river really exists though, because it didn’t show up on google maps. Regardless of the fact that it wasn’t on google maps, the river was busy with hundreds of boats full of tourists.

The unusual, and infinitely interesting thing about the boats floating by is that the rowers row using their legs. Honestly, it looks like an advanced yoga move. I never could have imagined that leg/foot rowing was a thing, but they all do it, and only on that one, uncharted river.

The Scam

We decided to skip the leg rower boats (officially called the Tam Coc boat trip), even though the starting point was very close to our hotel and they row with their legs (which is pretty cool). Apparently the Tam Coc boat trip has had numerous incidents where the rower, once far into the countryside, pulls over and refuses to continue without a tip. We agreed that could be unpleasant and potentially very awkward, so instead opted for the Trang An boat ride.

Trang An Boat Ride

The Trang An complex is impressive. You immediately see that it’s built for high volume tourism. The railings, that go on and on, are twisted into the familiar back and forth configuration to handle the throngs, like Disneyland.

We had been advised to arrive early to avoid the crowds. We arrived just before 8 am.

The rows and rows of crowd control railings sat empty. The large complex was like a ghost town, to our great delight.

I guess being slightly off-season helped keep the tourist count low.

Boat #952

All the rowers were women. They all wore the same turquoise jacket and sun hat, the round Vietnamese hat that comes to a point.

There were hundreds, maybe even a thousand, empty boats lined along the dock, waiting for customers to fill them.

Typically they load four people into each boat, but it was early and only one man sat waiting, Adam from Astoria, Oregon, (actually Warrenton). We were happy to complete a boat, with only the three of us, as we took our seats with Adam and boarded boat #952.

Heavenly

As we left the dock we had the river all to ourselves. The glassy, clear, pristine water quietly and gently parted as we glided upriver, with a view of enormous Karsts all around us. It was so peaceful that we all whispered, as if we were somewhere spiritual and needed to be reverent.

Watch Out: Cave Ahead

Our journey that morning included rowing through nine caves. We’d have to duck our heads, or scrunch to one side or the other, to avoid our body colliding with the cave entrance or a stalactite protruding from the cave ceiling.

There was never a word of warning, or any utterance really, from our rower. It could be quite dangerous for someone not paying close attention, like someone taking video or snapping pictures, but who would be silly enough to do that? (see pictures attached).

The Review

I had read a boat trip tour review from a woman who said a spider dropped down on her head from the top of the cave, and she almost upended the boat. I’m not particularly fond of spiders (understatement), so I wish I’d never read that, but all was well, and the only thing that dropped from the cave ceiling was an occasional water droplet.

Breathe Deep, Mask Recommended

Netherlands friends (from our hotel) snapped this picture of us on the river

The serenity and quiet beauty of our 3 hours on the river was breathtaking.

Speaking of breath, there was some haze, which Adam, our boat-mate, said was air pollution that blows down from China.

It’s true that all over Vietnam we see lots of smog, even up in the mountains of Sapa. Many, many locals wear face masks to protect themselves as best they can.

Early Arrival for the Win

On our way back towards the dock we could see that the crowds had started increasing. Many boats were passing us, just starting out on their tour. Getting to Trang An early was perfect.

During prime season I’d recommend getting to Trang An right when they open, at 7:00 am. The views remain spectacular no matter the number of boats or tourists, but the quiet and solitude of being the only boat on the river (for much of our tour), made it that much more special.

Wins & Losses

Wins

While eating dinner at an outdoor restaurant, we watched as the Vietnamese football team won their game against Indonesia, 3-0. We didn’t know until it was over that they were playing for the gold in the SE Asia games! We heard a lot of locals honking horns, shooting fireworks, and celebrating into the night.

Having an awesome hotel owner, who was happy to make our travel arrangements, as needed, throughout our stay. We typically muddle through on our own, but it sure was relaxing to have the assist.

Losses

Our lovely hotel bungalows, Tam Hoc Tropical Homestay

Enduring the very loud construction just a few feet away from our hotel that started at 7:30 am, including weekends.

Deciding to leave my loyal and trusty, albeit fake, North Face coat behind for the hotel owner since (fingers crossed) I won’t be needing it the rest of our trip.