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Trekking & Other Sapa Highlights

Posted December 11, 2019

The Overnight Train

We boarded the overnight train heading to Sapa, Northern Vietnam, at 9:35 pm at the Hanoi train station. Our tickets read, “Pumpkin car, berths 16 and 18”.

Our sleeper cabin had four beds, two upper bunks, and two lower bunks. The blankets and pillow cases were embroidered with orange pumpkins (since we were in the Pumpkin car). The beds were split by a narrow “corridor” about 1.5 feet wide, which makes any kind of maneuvering, with four people and all their luggage, quite difficult.

With such tight quarters, you hope and pray that you get roommates that, #1) speak at least some English, #2) do not snore or make unseemly noises while sleeping, and #3) are not thieves or unsavory types. And it doesn’t hurt if they are friendly and don’t like to stay up too late.

Pierre & Starts with an “N”

Lucky for us our roomies were a nice, twenty-something couple from Paris. We started chatting and introduced ourselves. The man had an easy, quintessentially French and easy to remember name – Pierre. The woman, on the other hand, had a name that sounded very french and unintelligible (to me), that started with an “N”. I asked her to repeat it, and shook my head in thanks, but still had no idea how to pronounce or remember it, let alone use it later.

No worries, there were so few of us packed into such a tight space that it was easy to get her attention, if needed, even without using her name.

Arriving in Lao Cai

My night had been filled with rocking and swaying, train whistles blowing, really strange dreams that I was on a train (whaaaat?), and occasional blinding lights peaking through the swaying curtains. The train was due in to Lao Cai at 5:30 am.

Lao Cai is a town of about 98,000 people on the Chinese border, in the far north of Vietnam. The town was completely destroyed in 1979 when the Chinese invaded, and has since been rebuilt. It’s thriving now, mostly due to trade with China.

Coffee Anyone?

I set my alarm for 5:10 am. A woman that worked on the train came down the corridor, banging on everyone’s compartment door, yelling something in Vietnamese that I can only surmise was “Get the hell up!”.

A minute later she came down the aisle again, asking for coffee orders. I wasn’t really awake enough, or organized enough, to add holding a cup of coffee to my morning challenges. I still had to pack up, get my shoes on, and try to fix my bed hair. Stepping off the train into the early morning darkness, the frigid air was a quick slap in the face. Turns out there was no need for that coffee after all. I was now quite wide awake, thank you very much.

Lao Cai was around 50 degrees, which seemed very cold after all our hot weather travels. Little did I know that Sapa, which was still 20 miles away and at a much higher elevation, would be even colder.

Sapa is Cold

Cold is one thing, but cold with high humidity is quite another. The day we arrived Sapa had both in spades. Sapa sits at 5400 feet elevation. It’s like the top of Stevens Pass ski resort back home in Washington State.

Unfortunately for me, I lost my down, packable coat on a plane about a month ago. My only protection from the cold was a long sleeve shirt with a thin, t-shirt weight hoodie, along with my only pair of pants and wool socks with Keen sandals.

After checking into our hotel room (that had a stunning, sweeping view of the mountains) we walked around town. It was in the low 40’s with 89% humidity and an icy breeze. I was freezing, freezing, freezing.

Sapa is fairly small and walkable, albeit quite hilly. It has a population of about 9,000. You can walk from one end to the other in 20-25 minutes.

Hmong & Red Dao

Walking around Sapa, one of the first things you notice is the ethnic women from the surrounding hill villages, mainly the Hmong and Red Dao, working the streets to sell their handicrafts.

The Hmong wear brightly colored plaid scarves on their heads for warmth.

The Red Dao wear a red hat or scarf , depending on what village they are from. The red scarf resembles a traditional western Santa hat, which seemed appropriate for this time of year. Ho ho.

The Hard Sell

Two Hmong women across the street are
waiting for us to finish our coffee

I’d read about how aggressive the village women are when trying to make a sale, but I was still unprepared for the lengths they would go to. Firstly, they target tourists who are innocently in their hotel or eating in a restaurant. An outdoor table is the worst because you’re easy to spot and track.

You can see them waiting. They make eye contact and smile a knowing smile. They know you cannot get away. As soon as you come out onto the street, they latch on to you and won’t let go. They try to make friends with you, then try to reel you in.

Having some experience with this in Morocco, Mexico and Thailand, I knew what to do, and I immediately said a firm and polite “No thank you”. I don’t give them my name, or answer where I’m from, or answer any other of their questions. And I definitely don’t make eye contact.

No Thanks

Even though I’d say “No Thanks”, repeatedly, without wavering, they would follow me for a full block or two or three through the streets of Sapa.

“Maybe later?” they ask. “No”, I’d say. “Maybe tomorrow?” they’d ask. “No”, I’d say. “You bought from her, you buy from me” they’d say, even though I hadn’t bought from anyone prior. Eventually I’d break free of the selling machine disguised as a Hmong villager. Done with me, the saleswoman would immediately transfer over and latch on to Steve, her next target. It didn’t matter that I was standing a few inches in front of Steve, he was fresh meat.

I kept up my pace, forging ahead, but was carefully listening to the conversation behind me. In desperation I heard Steve reply “Ok” to the “Maybe tomorrow?” plea. But I knew we were in trouble when he also said “Ok” to her next question, “You promise?”

The very next day that same woman recognized us and came over pleading and begging and reminding Steve of his “promise”.

We didn’t cave-in, but it took vigilance and a lot of resolve. Those ladies are tough. By our fourth day in town it became like a game for me and some of the ladies and I would recognize each other and smile or laugh.

Finally on day four, I will admit, I broke down and bought a batik scarf from one of my Hmong friends, so I guess all her work wasn’t for nothing after all.

Lunch and the Big Freeze

We stopped for lunch at an open air restaurant. Before taking a seat, we picked out our selections from the huge variety of skewers on the street-side table. The table was full of skewers packed with meats and vegetables of all kinds, some of which we even recognized. Our choices were immediately placed on the adjacent, red hot grill, then brought to our table when crispy and cooked through.

“North Face” to the Rescue

This restaurant, like many in Vietnam, had a large sliding garage type door as its storefront. This open-air set up is optimal in the heat and humidity found in most of Vietnam, but in Sapa, in December, it was less than ideal. As we sat and ate, the cold damp air seeped into my bones. It was more than enough to convince me that drastic measures were called for. Right after lunch we made a bee-line to one of a dozen of shops in town that featured fake North Face products.

I was determined to get warm. After heavy negotiations, I walked out of the store with a navy blue down “North Face” coat and hot pink “North Face” mittens. Total bill, about $17. Not bad. The coat’s zipper is a bit shoddy, and the velcro is flimsy, but it will serve its purpose well, and I only need it to work for four days.

Further Notes on the Cold

As I’ve already mentioned, Sapa is high in the mountains, so it’s not surprising that it’s cold. What is surprising is that nothing in town is heated except the individual hotel rooms. And I mean nothing. The hotel lobby, the hotel buffet breakfast room, the restaurants (even ones with four walls and a closing door), and the shops – all have no heat. A few restaurants have a free-standing bbq pit in among the tables, which would be quite concerning if the rooms were not so drafty (not air tight).

So every time we’d leave our hotel room, even to go downstairs for our morning breakfast buffet, we have to bundle up like we’re heading out on an arctic expedition.

Eating dinner, fully bundled up in a down coat, neck scarf, warm hat, and mittens while sitting inside a restaurant is commonplace. It’s like camping all the time. It sure does make the warm hotel room a welcome haven.

I’m Ready

Now that I had the essentials to keep warm, I was set for our trek in the mountains. Unlike me, Steve had kept tabs on his jacket. He planned on adding an additional layer, wearing my brightly colored ethnic-style Elephant shirt (with fringe all along the bottom) from our Thai excursion.

Sapa Sisters

We had pre-booked a two day trek to hike to three tiny, ethnic villages in the mountainous region of Vietnam through Sapa Sisters. We’d be staying overnight at a beautiful guesthouse high on a mountainside, “Zao’s House”.

We’d heard about Sapa Sisters from fellow Halong Bay boat-mates, two friends who had recently graduated with their doctorates from Stanford. They raved about the trekking company.

Female Owned & Operated

Sapa Sisters are Hmong trekking guides from Mung Hoa Valley, near the town of Sapa. They are the only female and Hmong owned trekking company in Sapa and are proud to operate a business that ensures all of their guides a fair salary and opportunities to grow in the community. They’ve been able to create a business that supports themselves and their families, and ensures long term employment and security.

We were thrilled to support such a progressive company empowering women here in northern Vietnam.

Our Guide, Ru

We met Ru, our trekking guide, the next morning at 8:45 am at the Sapa Sisters office, about a two minute walk from our hotel. Ru was very petite, as most Hmong are. She had long, dark, straight hair, tied back into a pony tail, and wore the traditional brightly colored plaid scarf tied on her head, as seen on Hmong women all over town.

Ru has an outgoing personality and exudes a solid confidence in her abilities as a trekking guide, having lived in the mountains near Sapa her entire life. She’s 22 years old, was married at age 17 (on the older side for women in her village, where most girls marry by age 15), and has three daughters, ages 5, 3, and 1.5. Her husband is a farmer and stays home to take care of “the babies” while Ru works as a guide three to four days a week.

Learning about Ru’s life growing up in a Hmong village, about an hour away from Sapa by motorbike, helped make our trek even more special and memorable.

The Ethnic Minorities Museum

We’d gone to Sapa Culture Museum the day before our trek to learn about the ethnic minorities that live in villages around Sapa.

It was shocking to learn that Hmong men, still to this day, have the option of kidnapping their prospective bride, often during Tet (New Years) celebrations. The man gathers a few friends and they ambush the woman, taking her by force and detaining her for three days. The museum’s information said that during the three days the woman is wined and dined (so to speak), with the intention of convincing her to agree to the marriage at the end of her captivity.

Kidnapped

I was hoping that the word “kidnapping” was a bad translation, and it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. I hoped it was actually a cultural practice where the girl was “in on it” and it was all in good fun.

But when talking to Ru about bride kidnappings, she said the kidnapped woman has no choice and must agree to marry her kidnapper at the end of the three days. She said all girls live in great fear during Tet, when most kidnappings occur.

I can’t imagine living in a patriarchal culture where being kidnapped and forced to marry is an accepted practice. It’s horrific to come face to face with someone who has lived a life under these circumstances, and experienced this fear first hand.

Thankfully Ru’s story was different. Not all men kidnap. Many parents of boys will decide who is a good marriage match, with or without input from their son, and solicit a meeting with a girls parents to ask for their consent. Ru knew and liked the boy who she married, whose parents made arrangements with her parents. She had the prerogative to say yes or no. Ru is happy in her marriage. She’s one of the lucky ones.

The Trek

Besides marrying by choice, Ru is fortunate to have a husband that supports her working as a guide. She’s a great guide, and we were lucky to have her.

Day #1 when the sun broke through the clouds

Trekking sounds so athletic and impressive (to me). I’d like to say we trekked for six or eight hours each day, through rough terrain, but we didn’t. In actuality, we did a modified-trek, due to my bad knees. Our trek was private, with just Ru, Steve, and I, so we could customize it to best meet our needs. We chose a combo of trekking and car-assist. We trekked about 3 hours each day, on mostly flat trails and dirt roads.

Day one we had to cross a river. The bridge was out, so we had to make due. We crossed the river by climbing over large and slippery rocks, then carefully walked side-step on unsecured long metal planks with raised edges. The planks weren’t stable and shifted under our feet. It was difficult.

Thankfully two Hmong women had latched on to us (for our entire day one trek), because without their help I don’t think I would have made it safely over the river. They earned the tip we gave them at the end of the day.

We then trekked through the village of Lao Chai and on to Ta Van, then hoofed it up an incredibly steep path for another 20 minutes to reach our homestay, Zao’s house.

Zao’s House

The view from the porch was breathtaking

Zao is one of Sapa Sisters founders, who now lives in a house owned by the company with her husband and three kids, hosting homestays for Sapa Sister trekkers almost every night.

The night we spent at Zao’s House there were 21 trekkers that arrived throughout the afternoon. We all had dinner together and we made some fast friends – Vicki and Joe from Vancouver, Canada (but Joe is originally from the UK), Eunice from Los Angeles (but currently living in NYC), Lanie from Austria, and a family of four from Switzerland that are traveling for a year (who we may meet up with in Hoi An over Xmas).

The second morning I woke early and caught a glorious sunrise. After a yummy communal breakfast we headed out for trekking, day #2. We trekked back down to the village of Ta Van, then on to Giang Tachai, before getting a ride back to Sapa.

Trekking Views

On both days we passed by many buffalo, small village schools, local handicraft stores, locals homes, zillions of beautifully kept family vegetable gardens, and terraced rice fields that were recently harvested.

The scenery was simply spectacular. Breathtaking. Pictures just can’t do it justice.

The Kids

Our last day in town we spent the day in the sunshine in Sapa’s main square. It was the first day that we didn’t have to bundle up, and it was lovely.

It was a Saturday, so there was lots of traffic and people in town. Sapa is a popular weekend destination for the Vietnamese.

There were lots of children “on display” for tourists (I presume), all dressed up in their ethnic traditional finest clothes.

Many people were paying to take posed pictures with the kids, but I preferred to catch the candid shots, when they weren’t posing with forced smiles, and able to just be themselves.

Wins & Losses

Wins

Chatting with a Red Dao (ethnic minority) woman on a park bench. Learning about her children and grandchildren, and her weekly seven hour walk into Sapa to sell her wares.
Having the good fortune (and good timing) to catch a bride & groom getting their professional wedding photos taken in traditional ethnic Red Dao wedding clothes, and sneaking some pictures!
Getting two out of three sunny days while in Sapa in December!

Losses

Flailing and spinning around trying to avoid an enormous bee (the size of a hummingbird) that was determined to land on my face on trekking day #2, ultimately falling on my bum in a muddy ditch – but at least I came out of it unscathed!

The Streets of Hanoi

Posted November 28, 2019

Our Hanoi Hotel

A rooster stood on the front step of our Hanoi, Vietnam hotel as we were leaving for dinner. I asked Steve to go out first, as sometimes roosters can be aggressive, and you never know. But this rooster just moved aside as we passed. All was well.

The Old Quarter

We are in the “Old Quarter” of the city. It’s a bustling, chaotic, colorful, loud, active, crazy place to be spending 10 days. I thought the traffic in Bangkok was impossible, but little did I know it could get even worse.

The Pep Talk

I have to give myself a mini pep talk every time we leave our hotel for the streets of Hanoi. “It will be ok. You will (probably) not get hit by a motor scooter, motorcycle, or bicycle. It’s unlikely you will get burned by a red hot muffler grazing your calf as it veers within a mere inch or two of you, if you keep moving. Your lungs will not explode from the thick exhaust fumes you are breathing in. Just remember that once you start crossing a street, you must keep moving at a steady pace and not look at the onslaught of vehicles, large and small, coming straight for you, often from multiple directions. If you look, your pace may falter, which is when you are most likely to hesitate and get creamed.”

Yes, it’s a lot to remember, but it’s my daily mantra in Hanoi. And it’s not relaxing. At all.

The Chaos

But it is kind of amazing. The city exudes energy. People cooking in woks on the side of the street, the nonstop traffic, the chaos of constantly honking horns, bright lights and signage, dozens of people eating while hunched down on tiny stools in the street, and ladies carrying baskets full of freshly made donuts (on a stick) for sale, having a hard time taking “no” for an answer.

Donut On A Stick

The donut ladies deserve a special shout-out. I must say they are persistent, cunning, and annoying, but in the end most have a genuine, sincere smile, whether you buy from them or not.

While eating lunch or dinner, typically at an outdoor table, they walk by carrying their donuts in two hanging baskets balanced on each end of a stick across their shoulder. At first it’s a cool look, from the perspective of a foreigner. “Wow, isn’t that interesting? Did you see how that woman is carrying her donuts?” But then it all starts to unravel as the donut ladies get more aggressive.

And they do get aggressive. We started spotting them from afar. “Oh no, it’s a donut lady up ahead. Quick, move to the other side of the street.” But, if you’ve read above, a quick move across the street is never a good, or easy, option. Sometimes they hit me (probably more like a double tap), with the end of their donut stick as I’m walking by. That really irritates me, as I don’t want donut grease smeared on my limited shirts, unless of course I have the pleasure of eating said donut. A walk-by “donuting” is never welcome.

Maneuvering in Hanoi

Almost every sidewalk is used as a parking lot, housing tightly packed motorcycles at just the right angle and perfectly ordered, so as not to waste an inch of space. This forces pedestrians to walk in the street.

Trust is an important factor in making your way on foot through Hanoi. Most people walk with the traffic, and you just have to have faith that the myriad vehicles coming up behind you will maneuver and miss you. It seems to work for the locals, and we cross our fingers and do like they do.

We see motor scooters carrying crazy things, but if it’s your only option, you make do. A ladder, a huge flatscreen Sony TV, dozens and dozens of fresh eggs, and entire families of three or more top the list, so far. I’m sure we’ll have more to add before we’re out of here.

Vietnam Military Museum

We visited the Vietnam Military Museum yesterday morning. Seeing the “American War”, as it’s known here in Vietnam, through Vietnam’s lens, was interesting. From their perspective, it’s the last chapter in a thousand year struggle for independence for the Vietnamese.

Hoan Kiem Lake

In a break from the hectic streets, we made our way to Hoan Kiem Lake, just outside of Hanoi’s Old Quarter. It reminded me of Green Lake, back home in Seattle.

No Vehicles Allowed

Once there, we realized there was some kind of celebration going on and the city had closed several major streets to vehicle traffic. It was liberating to walk freely in the wide, tree lined streets without threat of injury or worse.

Families strolled along, children ran and twirled, bubbles were in the air, and the occasional street musician played. It was a lovely afternoon.

English Speakers Wanted

As we made our way around the packed walkways near the lake, we were stopped three times by small groups of children with their English teachers, asking for a few minutes of our time to practice speaking English. It was a fun opportunity to interact with local kids, and we had good chats. I shared some pictures from home. One in particular, of our house covered in snow, got lots of oooh’s and ahhhh’s. It’s hard to think of winter at home when we’re in this humid, hot part of the world.

Thanksgiving

Today is November 28th, Thanksgiving Day, on our side of the world. Back home it’s still Wednesday, the 27th. I’m sure you’re getting your turkey, or vegan substitute, ready for your Thanksgiving feast.

We’ll be celebrating by attending a traditional Vietnamese water puppet show. Not what one typically associates with Thanksgiving, but we’re excited to check it out.

Happy Thanksgiving to all those back home. We’ll miss not seeing you this holiday!

“Shut Up”, & Other Vietnam Blunders

Posted November 27, 2019

A Breakfast Thank You

Our first morning in Vietnam, during breakfast with a view of St. Joseph’s Cathedral, I said “Cảm Ơn Bạn” as the waitress set down my coffee. She answered with a curt “Yep”, which I found strange. Turns out I may have just told her to “shut up”. And, regrettably, I may have told multiple people all over Vietnam to “shut up”, as well. Oh my. I’m not off to a great start.

And to make matters worse, I just learned that my Vietnamese rendition of “hello” means , “I’d like more soup”. Hmmmm…no wonder I’m not getting those delighted looks from locals, as I attempt to use the native language, like I did in Thailand. Speaking in Vietnamese, a slight inflection one way or another makes a word have an entirely different meaning. Darn.

Duc, The Tour Guide

My newfound insights into the complexities of the Vietnamese language came from our friendly tour guide , Duc (pronounced roughly “Dook”). We had booked a 24 hour excursion from Hanoi to Halong Bay on Vega Tours.

I’d read a lot about the thousands of scams and crummy tour outfits sprinkled all over Hanoi, and knew it was important to research before committing. I found lots of glowing reviews online about Vega, so we walked through Hanoi’s insanely busy streets to find the Vega main office and book our tour for the next Sunday.

Coffee, A Must

The Vega bus was scheduled to pick us up at 7:30 am, so we checked the hours of a little coffee shop just down the alley from our Airbnb, An Cafe, the night before. They open at 7:30, so we hoped our ride would be just a little late so we’d have time for a coffee while we waited with our backpacks on the bustling street.

An Cafe was shut up tight (most storefronts have a metal garage door that is pulled down when they’re not open). It looked like we were out of luck, but there was another option. Right across the small alley we’d come down from our Airbnb was a tiny local coffee vendor.

Locals Only

His establishment was the type for locals. There’s kind of an understanding, or an unwritten rule, that only the locals eat and drink at certain venues. Or maybe, more likely, it’s that the foreigners, us included, don’t feel quite comfortable enough to join in the throngs of locals, all sitting on the sidewalk on tiny, plastic stools, most often eating soup or drinking coffee. Let me take a minute to paint a picture of this scene, found multiple times on every street in Hanoi.

The One-Man Operation

Firstly, at this establishment, the stools are a soft baby blue, the kind of color that quickly shows dirt and wear. The plastic stools are akin to the tiny, maybe 8” long by 6” wide, stools so often used in bathrooms all over the U.S, so a toddler can reach the bathroom sink. They stand about 10” high and are made from thin, cheap plastic.

We looked over at the coffee “shop”. Yes, coffee trumped any hesitation we had about trying out this one-man operation. The proprietor sat at an old, beat-up office desk, set sideways on the cement floor of his shop. The shop was so small that his desk and chair, and only one customer, could fit inside, but nothing more. Supplies and junk were scattered in the nooks and crannies behind and to the side of the desk, and there appeared to be no lighting.

The Seats of Honor

His one and only customer, perched on one of the many plastic stools on the sidewalk immediately in front of the shop, noticed we were en route. He immediately jumped up and grabbed the rare, larger (almost adult size) red plastic chair, with arms and a back, and moved it in place, gesturing warmly for Steve to sit in this place of prominence. Then he quickly maneuvered to the only other red plastic chair several feet away and motioned for me to sit. I honestly hadn’t even noticed the red chairs sitting on the side of the dozens of blue plastic stools, scattered willy-nilly all over the sidewalk. We were honored to accept his generous hospitality.

Vietnamese Coffee

I walked in to the shopkeeper at his desk, to order my coffee, Vietnamese style. He picked up an old coke plastic bottle, which was partially full of a thick, dark liquid. It reminded me of a slightly thinned molasses. He poured a few inches worth into a small, clear glass, followed by a generous portion of sweetened condensed milk from an open can on his desk (this is the true Vietnamese coffee). He then used his left hand to reach into a small ice chest that was mostly filled with melted ice, using his hand to strain out a few pieces that would still qualify as chunks, and dropped them into my glass.

Ok, then. I’ll assume that he just washed his hands, and that the used coke bottle he’s storing his brew in isn’t too old and disgusting. Well, the jokes on me because that coffee was by far the best I’ve tasted so far in SE Asia, and the cheapest too (.86 cents). Kudos to the small guy.

With our coffee safely consumed, we were ready for our excursion.

The Tour

Our Halong Bay tour included a memorable 24 hours on a lovely, small boat with 14 other tourists, our guide, Duc, and the cooks and crew.

Traveling with us were a Chinese family consisting of a mom and dad, two boys (about 3.5 and 10), a grandma, and a sister, a french couple, a brother and sister Aussie’s in their 20’s, two young British women in their 20’s, and two recently graduated PhD’s from Stanford (in Neuro-Biology). One was moving on to a post-doc at Princeton to study how flies make decisions, specifically how they decide what fly to mate with. Hmmm…interesting. I’ll never look at flies the same way again.

Kayaking in Choppy Waters

We spent our first afternoon kayaking in Bai Tu Long Bay. At first it was a bit choppy, but we managed.

We could see a beautiful sandy opening ahead in the limestone island we were approaching.

We docked our kayaks and walked through a cave. When we came out the other side, we saw an incredibly picturesque beach right out of a dream. We stayed for a while and swam. So lovely.

Rich Tourists Creating Waves

Next we kayaked towards another cave. We were now contending with not only the choppy waters, but private speed boats, full of presumably rich tourists, whizzing by us on all sides. Duc told us to take the large wakes to the side of the kayak, rather than head on. So every time a giant wake was coming, we did our best to maneuver to take it sideways, but that didn’t always work out so well (there were too many coming at us from different angles). It was a little stressful.

Half way over to the cave, my end of the kayak (the bow), was filled to the brim with water. At that point I stopped caring (and stressing) when a speed boat came by, they could do no more damage than they already had. And Steve assured me we wouldn’t sink. And we didn’t.

Cave #2

Duc helped us pull our kayaks up to shore of cave #2. The cave was large and impressive. Unfortunately we stayed a little too long for my comfort, through dusk. As the light waned, I had the sudden realization that the high pitched chirping I was hearing were bats. Lots and lots of bats.

Bats and More Bats

I looked up and bats were everywhere. I’ve seen an occasional bat at my home near Seattle at dusk, but I’m talking hundreds of bats, pitching and erratically dodging and dipping with no rhyme or reason. Every bad movie I’ve ever seen of a bat swooping into the damsel’s updo flashed before my eyes. I’ll admit I got a little panicky. Steve was surprised at my reaction, ”I didn’t know you had a fear of bats”, he calmly said. Yeah, neither did I.

Luckily we made it out unscathed and bat-free. I can still hear that loud, high pitched chirping. I have a slight kink in my neck from my unnatural posture ducking down as low as possible, holding a hand defensively over my head, while exiting the cave and boarding our kayaks.

Kayaking back to the starting point, we caught an incredible sunset. Finally the bay was calm and glassy.

Days End

Approaching our boat after a day of kayaking

After dinner, our boat made its way to the edge of Halong Bay, which we would visit the next day.

An Early Start

We woke at 5:40 am to catch the sunrise, and it was a beauty. We were floating in a serene, calm bay under a crystal clear sky. You could even see a sliver of the moon in the pink and slowly brightening sky.

Vega’s boats head out very early in order to beat the masses of crowds. Duc told us that 20,000 tourists visit Halong Bay each and every day, regardless of the time of year. There is no down-time. Twenty thousand a day!

Hang Sung Sot Cave

We were the first to arrive at Hang Sung Sot cave, a popular, gigantic cave. It was simply breathtaking walking through the three caverns, gawking at the stalagmite formed by thousands of years of rainwater making its way through the soft limestone.

The ceilings were equally impressive, and looked like the surface of the moon. Duc explained that the limestone formations were once all under the sea, and the lapping waves had formed the ceilings smooth, dimpled appearance.

400 Stairs Island

We then boated over to Ti Top island that has a lookout point at the tippy top. Problem is, there’s 400+ stairs (not to code, per Steve) to get to the view.

After our trip through the cave, which entailed ascending and descending probably 200 stairs (also not to code), I opted to rent a lovely wooden beach lounger on the almost secluded island beach in the sunshine, and hold down the fort, rather than add 400 more stairs to my day. I did send my camera up the mountain (with Steve), so it was a win-win. Yeah, good choice.

Back to Hanoi

It was sad saying goodbye to Duc and our newfound friends. Duc was so funny. He had a great deadpan sense of humor that we really appreciated. He also was quite informative.

It wasn’t until the very last of our bus ride back to Hanoi, at the end of our trip, that I thought of double-checking my Vietnamese pronunciation for “Hello” and “Thank you” with Duc.

It was pretty disheartening to learn I’d been telling people to “shut-up” and asking for more soup, when all I wanted to do was show them I had an appreciation for their language. Oh well, I had the best of intentions. For now I’ll stick with “Thank you” and “Hello”. Those seem to work too.

The Oldest City in Thailand

Posted November 16, 2019

The Bus to Chiang Saen

Our bus to Chiang Saen was an hour late, so when it finally did show up, we were very happy (and relieved) to climb aboard. We settled in for our 6 to 7 hour bus ride that would take us to our destination, in the far north of Thailand. Chiang Saen is about 8 miles south of the infamous “Golden Triangle”, where the countries of Burma, Thailand, and Laos meet. It’s a sleepy, rural town, along the Mekong River, and is the site of a former Thai kingdom believed to date back to the 7th century.

Heading north, the bus stopped just after the two hour point at a little Thai open air food court / bus stop, complete with bathrooms.

First Stop

For such a tiny bus stop along a rural road in the middle of nowhere in Thailand, this bathroom sure did have a lot of stalls. There were probably fifteen. And I checked every one of them, pleading to God or Buddha or whoever might be tuned in for just one sit down toilet. Nope. Nada. All pit toilets.

Pit Toilet Defined

The Thai pit toilets I’ve encountered to date are white porcelain, raised maybe 8 to 10 inches off the floor. The toilet design includes two horizontal surfaces, one on each side of the hole (or pit). These flat surfaces, about the size and shape of a person’s foot, have a tread of sorts, presumably to keep the user from slipping. But the treads are smooth porcelain, and most often wet (let’s not go there), which, as far as I can tell, completely defeats the purpose of having treads. The smooth tread gives the user a false sense of security, as well as limiting the user’s stance.

Just Do It

I stared at my one and only option, the pit toilet. I didn’t have much time, since the bus would be leaving soon. The slightly elevated aspect of the pit toilet was perplexing, since it seemed to unnecessarily complicate things. I carefully placed my right foot in place, checking for slippage potential. It seemed alright, so I brought my other foot up. Now I was fully committed.

Then it happened. I peed on my foot. Just a little, and technically it was on my right heel and the back of my sandal. The one size fits all pit toilet, with a fixed stance (take it or leave it), obviously didn’t work for me.

Maybe with more practice I’ll get the hang of it. I’ll keep you posted.

The Night Arrival

After cleaning myself up as best I could, I returned to the bus and told Steve what happened. He looked at me, a little horrified, and I started laughing (somewhat hysterically). Oh well, these things happen. We settled back in and continued on towards our final destination, Chiang Saen.

Main Street

It was night when we entered town, around 7 pm, driving down the main street. We were wondering where the bus station would be in relation to our hotel.

Suddenly the bus pulled over and stopped. We were told this was the Chiang Saen stop, so we got off.

A small island of night activity in Chiang Saen

There was no bus station in sight, only a bus curb. We stood, looking very conspicuous, two tall white people standing on the side of the road under a street lamp, wearing Osprey backpacks (note: yes, in Thailand I’m considered tall). There was not a taxi or tuk tuk in sight, in fact, there weren’t even any cars in sight.

There was a little hub of lights and activity across the street and a block down. Some food stalls were still serving locals. Other than that, the town was deserted.

The Rescue Car

I called our hotel, and even though the woman on the phone spoke very little English, and I could barely hear her, somehow we communicated and she sent a car to pick us up. While we waited, two different local men at the food carts came over and offered us help. Neither man spoke English, but it was apparent they had noticed us (I wonder how they noticed us?), and we looked out of place (to say the least).

One even offered information about a hotel around the corner where we could stay for about $5 a night. It was so nice of them to go out of their way to try to help us. I shouldn’t have been surprised, we’ve found many Thai to be very helpful and genuinely caring.

Hunger Wins Out

Just crickets in every direction

It had been a long day, and we were hungry. After checking in at our hotel we walked into town, about a ten to fifteen minute walk. It was strange and uncomfortable walking through the deserted, quiet, suburban streets, after spending the past few weeks walking the intense, chaotic streets of Bangkok and Chiang Mai. All we could see were the long, empty streets illuminated by fluorescent street lights. All we could hear were crickets.

Suburbia

We walked by shacks, average homes, and even one section of beautiful, fairly large gated homes with gorgeous, small yards full of flowering bougainvillea. There were stray dogs everywhere, mostly large dogs, just like in other parts of Thailand. We startled one sleeping dog, which completely undid me, since I recently was talking about the horrors of getting a dog bite and having to deal with rabies treatments with a new friend we met in Chiang Mai, Gretta from Australia (shout out to Gretta!). Thankfully the dogs left us alone.

Thai Restaurant Protocol

We sat at a small, outdoor restaurant, called Friendship, on the main drag across from the Mekong River. There was a live band playing, singing in English. Their pronunciation was just slightly off, but the live music was a real treat.

The Menu

Our server handed each of us the multi-page menu, and then stood, staring at us. It’s a bit awkward, but we’ve encountered this behavior at other Thai restaurants too. We’re actually getting used to it, and at least we don’t have to wait for the server to return once we’ve decided, since they’ve never left.

There are several other interesting differences (from western restaurants) at Thai restaurants.

Good To Know

Firstly, the table setting does not include napkins, but instead there’s a Kleenex type box with pop up tissues on each table.
Secondly, at many restaurants, including Friendship in Chiang Saen, there’s a small, wooden, free standing platform, a few inches lower than the table surface, at the end of each table. I honestly thought it was a high chair, and was surprised to see one at each and every table. Now I know better. The little platform is a serving tray of sorts, where the server puts your drinks, ice, utensils, etc. It saves room on the table and the server doesn’t have to reach over the seated guests. It’s pretty ingenious.

And thirdly, in Thailand they bring out the food you’ve ordered as it’s cooked, in whatever order that might be. You and your dinner companion may end up eating at different times, and you might get your appetizer at the end of the meal, but everything is always hot and fresh.

Rickety, but Functional

We borrowed the hotel’s rusty, old bicycles several times during our three-day stay. Each bike had a metal basket. Mine also had a bell (that didn’t work), and a light (that didn’t work), and a flat padded seat just behind my seat, in case I made a friend who wanted to join us.

We visited ornate gold & silver adorned Wats (Buddhist Temples), went into town for meals, rode along the ancient city wall and the mighty Mekong River, and just tooled around. Chiang Saen is quite picturesque.

The Ruins

Most wats we’ve visited in the cities are refurbished, since they are a century or more old, but Chiang Saen’s wats are in “as-is” condition .

We saw tons of stupas (huge domed shaped structure), gold and silver multi-headed dragons, Buddhas of all sizes, and glittering golden wats (temples) as we bicycled along the backstreet lanes in town.

Many of the stupas are covered in moss and decaying, which, in my opinion, adds to their charm.

The Orange Moon

In the evening, a dozen or so street food vendors set up makeshift restaurants, including outdoor kitchens, along the Mekong river front. They cover the sidewalk in woven mats, creating a large “floor” for their patrons to sit on at low tables. Per custom, we took our shoes off before walking on the mat covered area.

We had a delicious meal, followed by a breathtaking, bright orange moon rising over the Mekong.

On the bike ride back to the hotel, the moon had risen even higher into the sky. It had lost it’s orange glow, but was as stunning as ever.

Street Markets

We happened upon two lively street markets while in Chiang Saen. One was a permanent market in town on the main street.

The other we encountered on our last night while out on an early evening bike ride. The Thursday night market (I’ll call it) occupied a huge field filled with food, vegetable and fruit vendors. And the entire back half of the field were clothing vendors.

Half the town’s population must have been at the market, purchasing their fresh fruit and veggies, picking up dinner for the family, or looking for that needed pair of pants – all in what was an empty field that morning.

The Hall of Opium Museum

Chiang Saen sits about 8 miles south of the very touristy Golden Triangle area, but it remains mostly tourist free. One day we took a Songthaew (pronounced Song-Tail), a converted pick-up truck with two rows of back benches, and the only public transportation in the area, up to the Hall of Opium Museum, a bit north of the Golden Triangle area.

The museum was very impressive, with a variety of mediums to help convey the complex and extensive history of the opium trade. It was well worth seeing.

Just Wait on the Highway

When leaving the somewhat remote museum, we were told by museum workers to go stand out on the highway and wait for a Songthaew. We stood for a few minutes, but looked up the practically deserted highway and decided it might be best to start walking.

Wild Boars, Tigers, and Tarantulas, oh my!

We headed towards the Golden Triangle area and civilization, wondering if there were wild boar, tigers, or tarantulas lying in wait for unsuspecting tourists walking along a lonely highway in the jungles of northern Thailand.

Actually, it was a great opportunity to get a closer look at a beautiful part of Thailand while other tourists whizzed by us with their hired drivers in their air conditioned Toyota vans.

The views over the jungle terrain across to Myanmar were gorgeous.

We made it back to Chiang Saen unscathed and ate a feast of street food we picked up in town, where the Songthaew had dropped us off. A great end to a great day.

The Language Barrier

For the first time on our SE Asian adventures, we encountered significant language challenges here in Chiang Saen.

Some communication highlights:

Check-In

The manager had memorized her check-in information, but beyond that, when I asked any question, she said some words that didn’t make sense (in English), smiled, and laughed.

The Pool

Heading to the pool one afternoon, I stopped in and saw the cook at the lobby desk (I’ll call her the cook, since she made our breakfast each morning and also worked in reception). I asked if they supplied pool towels. Blank look. I pantomimed a towel and pointed in the direction of the pool. Just as the manager had, the cook started laughing a hearty, full laugh. Right in my face. We held eyes for a few moments, then I turned and left the lobby. I guess I had my answer. I’d be using my REI travel towel at the pool.

T.P.

Another time I went to the front desk to ask for more toilet paper, as we were running quite low. The cook was there. I knew I was in trouble. I asked for a toilet paper roll. Blank look. I said “toilet”, then made the shape of a toilet roll with my hands. This wasn’t working, and I thought about giving up, but the alternative wasn’t pretty, so I had to use extreme measures.

I pointed to my behind. Still a blank look. Nothing registered. In the end (excuse the pun), I made my way around the counter so the cook could see my entire body, including below the waist. I proceeded to mimic sitting on an imaginary toilet, then wiping my butt with imaginary toilet paper. It was humiliating, but it worked.

Logistics

Since there was no bus station in town, and nothing helpful online, we asked at the hotel lobby for information on how to get a bus from Chiang Saen to Chiang Mai the next day. The cook and some random woman that was in the lobby (I think the cook’s friend) were trying their best to help us.

They started by getting up on a chair and taking the lobby wall clock off the wall. Then there was lots of pointing at the clock, and looking up to see if we understood, which we didn’t.

Next they talked very slowly to us in Thai (with more pointing at the clock), slowly repeating what was said, in case we might suddenly understand Thai on the second pass. We didn’t.

Finally, with the help of google translate, some more clock pointing, and some wild gesturing, we finally were somewhat sure we had things set.

Hopefully there’d be a tuk tuk to pick us up at 8 am the next morning, that would take us to some kind of bus out of town. Good enough for us.

My Thai

I know three words/ phrases in Thai, and they go a long way here.

I’ll type them phonetically, since that’s how I remember them. I’ve gotten pretty good at whipping them out, almost always using the right word at the right time.

Saw-wa-dee-kaaaaa: means hello, or greetings.
Cob-koon-kaaaaa: means thank you
My-pen-rye: means no worries , or no problem

I also use the multipurpose word, kaaaa. It’s like an acknowledgement, or saying “ok”.

That’s the extent of my Thai language abilities, but I apparently do a spot-on pantomime of someone wiping their butt, so there’s that. :0

Chai, Monk in Training

Posted November 3, 2019

“Chat With Monk“

Steve spotted the sign, “Chat With Monk”. And yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

We’ve seen monks all over Thailand and Myanmar in their distinctive orange robes, walking in town, on the bus, in restaurants, and in Wats (Buddhist temples).

Monks are a mystery to me. They seem very private and keep to themselves. Now was my possibly one and only chance to actually talk to a monk and get the inside scoop, direct from the guy in orange (meant with the utmost respect).

Wat Chedi Luang

We were visiting Wat Chedi Luang, in Chiang Mai, Thailand, when we seized the opportunity to chat with a monk.

There were six round teak tables under a free standing shade canopy in the chat area. One monk sat at a table in front of a huge wall map of the world. He was the one and only monk there. He sat in his orange robe, draped over one shoulder, with the other shoulder bare. We walked over and sat at his table, in the shade of the canopy.

Monk in Training

The first thing I noticed was his youthful look and huge smile. I asked him if it was o.k. to ask his age, and he said, “that is a question that is common”, so I assumed that was a yes. He told me he was 18, and he was a Monk in training.

So Young

Chai decided to become a monk when he was only eight years old. He was born and raised in Myanmar, in the upper northeastern region. Chai was surprised to learn that we had just come from Myanmar yesterday. We had spent 4 nights in Yangon. He said he was from the far northeast of Myanmar, far from Yangon.

So, at the young age of eight, Chai left his family to live with the monks. He has been a monk in training for the past ten years. Ten years!

I wonder if he even remembers a life before becoming a monk.

Chai has lived at Wat Chedi Luang, where we were chatting with him, for the past five months. Monks move, live and study at different wats, with different teachers, as part of their training.

It’s incredible that Chai came to Thailand from Myanmar just under two years ago knowing only his Burmese dialect. He had to learn Thai, and is now learning English (and he’s quite good). In fact he was reading a copy of The Secret Garden when we stopped to chat with him. It was a learner copy, with some Thai text on the bottom of each page, to help him along.

Tough Circumstances

Chai said many monks go to the university, but he cannot attend the university because he is not Thai. He said his current teacher, a Monk, has a degree in Philosophy and Psychology from the Chiang Mai University. His current teacher filled the entire white board in the chatting area full of Buddhist wisdom, titled “Chat and Share”.

I asked if he would want to go to university in Myanmar, since he obviously valued education and couldn’t attend in Thailand. He told me he couldn’t do that either, because he is not a Burmese citizen. That surprised me because he had told me he was born in Myanmar. He explained that he is Shan. Shan are an ethnic minority in Myanmar and he is not considered a Burmese citizen, even though he was born in Myanmar.

Wow, what a wake up call to be chatting with someone in such circumstances. Although he was only eight at the time, perhaps that factored into his decision to become a monk, with his limited options in Myanmar. I’m not sure someone so young can understand their place in a restrictive regime, but just maybe he or his family did.

A Happy Monk

Chai seemed very happy with his decision to be a monk. He explained that monks always have the choice to stay or leave. He said that now that he is age 18, he has made the decision again, as an adult, to stay. I wondered if monks are typically committed for life, once they start on the monk path. He said some men are only monks for five minutes, one month, one year, or some are forever. And it sounded like there is no stigma if someone should choose to leave the monkhood.

Young Monks

Close-up of incredible detail, Wat Chedi Luang

I asked about the number of monks at the Wat. Chai said there are 50 “full” monks, and 200 young monks in training. Once he is age 20, he will be a “full” monk. So that means that 200 of the monks at the wat are under age 20. Wow, sounds like monk recruiting is going quite well.

Sunrise Donations

I wasn’t up at dawn….this is a stock image

Chai explained that the monks live on only donations and have no possessions (other than books to study and bare necessities). They get up before dawn and walk the streets of their community, each carrying a bowl for donations.

Buddhist devotees believe that offering alms secures them good karma in this life and the next. They also hope to bestow good luck on deceased family members by donating to the monks. As the monks pass by in the early morning hours, people put fruit, food, and money into their bowls. Whatever Chai gets in his bowl, he can keep for his needs.

The Cafeteria

I asked if the Monks have a cafeteria at the wat compound. I did think about whether I should use the word cafeteria, since it’s kind of a big word, and I’d been careful to use simple words as much as possible in our conversation. Chai looked confused and wasn’t sure what the word cafeteria meant. I explained that a cafeteria is a large room where the Monks eat together. And now Chai has a new word. You’re welcome.

Chai told us that people from the community volunteer to cook lunch for the Monks every day at the wat. Turns out Monks do not eat after midday, so their meager breakfast and community lunch are it for the day. No wonder most monks are so slender.

Fast Friends

I had read that women need to be very careful to not touch or accidentally brush up against a monk. It’s best to not even sit next to a monk on a bus or train, if possible. I had also read (I thought) that it’s not good form to take a monk’s picture.

By now Chai, Steve, and I had chatted for close to 45 minutes. I’d shown Chai pictures of where we live in Seattle, we showed him our city on the world map, we talked about snow and why it’s expensive to live in California and New York, and I showed him pictures of my kids and pets.

I felt like we were fast friends. Chai was so personable, open, and quick to smile. I really, really wanted a picture of Chai, so I went ahead and asked, “Is it ok to get a picture of you?”. He smiled widely and said a big, “Yes, of course, it is fine”, which surprised me, but made me very happy. I guess all my efforts to avoid taking a monks picture were unnecessary. Who knew?

The New Monk

By then another young monk, who I’ll call the new monk, who didn’t seem at all interested in chatting, had joined the table. The new monk sat consumed by some videos on his cell phone (I’m guessing even teen monks need screen-time limits – haha). Chai suggested that new monk snap a picture of us.

The Picture

To orchestrate the picture taking, Chai told Steve to join him on his bench. He made it very clear that I should stay on my own, separate bench, that had a gap of a few inches from his bench. It was important that I stay a safe distance from him. I wonder if he can hug his own mom. Probably not, and I didn’t think to ask until after we had left (but I did find out that he sees his family regularly – and had just seen his mom last week).

The new monk took our picture and handed me back my cellphone. I took a quick peek at the picture, and saw that Chai hadn’t smiled. He looked so serious and not like himself at all. I felt we had enough of a rapport that I chimed right up and said I really wanted a picture with Chai smiling, since he has such a nice smile. He smiled at that (of course), and agreed to retake the photo.

Good Karma

I’m so very happy that I had the good fortune (karma?) to meet Chai today. I have a new perspective and understanding of monks, their life and deep commitment, kindness, and their pursuit of nirvana.

It is an experience I will never forget.

The Golden Shwedagon Pagoda

Posted November 2, 2019

The Visit

Today we visited the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, Myanmar, Burma’s most important Buddhist pilgrimage site. According to legend the pagoda is more than 2,500 years old dating back to the lifetime of the Buddha.

We had seen the Pagoda many times over the past few days from different points in the city, as it stands a whopping 326 feet tall and is hard to miss. It’s gold plated with the diamond studded spire, which also helps it stand out a bit.

You’ve Got to See This

Seeing the Pagoda up close and personal was a whole different experience. The sheer enormity of the Pagoda was mind-boggling. And besides the featured Pagoda, there’s a 144 acre complex full of golden stupas surrounding it! The pictures just don’t do it justice. I’d highly recommend a trip to Yangon to see it for yourself!

An Active Place of Worship

The pagoda is much more than a tourist attraction, it is the most important religious site in Myanmar. It is a very active place of worship. Scores of monks, pilgrims, and devotees mix among tourists at the monument with their offerings of flowers and incense.

Flowers Everywhere

There must have been half a dozen flower “shops” sprinkled around the complex supplying the beautiful flowers so many worshipers were purchasing as an offering to Buddha.

Celebrity for a Day

We saw some school groups at the Pagoda too. One boy, part of a group all in red numbered jerseys, walked arm in arm with this friends and shouted out a big “Hello” to Steve and I.

When we both said a big “Hello” back, he and his friends were very surprised. They were giggling and whooping it up. I think our greeter made a big hit with his friends that he “communicated” with the foreigners. We were happy to have made that kid a celebrity, if even for a day!

A Visit to Myanmar

Posted November 1, 2019

We came to Myanmar to visit a family member of ours who is living here. It’s been nice to visit Yangon with some temporary locals as our hosts.

Travel With Your Own Shade

Everywhere I look around Yangon, women, men, old, and young are hurrying along with umbrellas. Around here you’re either in the intense, unyielding sun or in a downpour. Even the bicycle taxi has an umbrella.

Sarongs Rule

I’d say almost half the people (women and men) around town wear Sarongs. The Sarongs here are like a giant infinity scarf, meaning they are sewn into a closed loop, as opposed to a flat scarf.

Honking Phenomenon

Yes, the Burmese drive by honking (just like in Bangkok), with one notable exception (excuse the pun). Many of the drivers seem to have their own honking tune, unique to them, that they repeat here and there while driving around. Perhaps they are announcing themselves at intersections or to friends out on the street? We’re not sure, but it’s kind of fun.

For one ride we were lucky to have a taxi driver who had his own unique tune. He honked out his tune a couple of times as we drove along. If he had understood English I would have gotten to the bottom of the mystery, you can bet on that.

Burmese Kyat

The Burmese currency is the kyat, and the current conversion is 1521 kyat to 1 USD, which makes buying anything an exercise in mathematical computation.

Today at lunch Steve told me he had 3,600 kyat left in his wallet (we leave tomorrow). I was a bit concerned, considering the lunch we were in the midst of eating was going to cost around thirteen thousand kyats. Thankfully he had miscalculated and was off by a factor of ten, so we were fine.

The #59 Bus

The #59 local bus we took was ancient and rickety, but got us where we needed to go. It’s a smallish bus and set up to pack ‘em in. There are a few bench seats way in the back. The bulk of the bus is set-up for standing on the shiny metal flooring. The windows are wide open because it’s blazing hot with high humidity.

The Bus Guy

There’s a guy on bus #59 who has the job of hanging halfway out the bus door and yelling to everyone in the street. But with all the windows and door wide open, he’s kind of yelling at us too. We assume he is announcing upcoming destinations. He yells with volume and intensity, like an auctioneer. He yells nonstop as we are pulling away from the stop. He yells nonstop as we approach stops. There’s not much time between stops, so there’s lots of yelling.

The #11 Bus

The #11 bus heading to the Shwedagon Temple was quite a contrast to the #59 we took the day before. Like night and day different. The #11 was newer, modern, and air-conditioned, with seats throughout (albeit crowded with lots of people standing). It even had two video screens strategically mounted, playing nonstop flashy advertising, complete with catchy jingles.

Nap Hka

Many Burmese people wear a yellowish-whitish cosmetic paste on their face called nap hka. Supposedly it is mostly worn by women and children, but I saw lots of men and teen boys wearing the paste too. Even our taxi driver one afternoon was wearing Nap Hka. Most cultures that have had a similar practice have discontinued it, and only use for the benefit of tourism, but in Myanmar it is still widely seen.

I saw people that had the paste spread over their entire face, whereas others apply a big circle on each cheek. Still others wear angled lines or create patterns like leaves or dots.

I’m a Novelty

The people here seem quite intrigued by us. There are virtually no Caucasian tourists around town (but we did see a few at the Pagoda). Small children stare at me. I smile and wave and they break into a huge grin of delight.

A young teen boy working in a small convenience store looked at me very intently while bagging some groceries. When he saw that I had noticed him looking at me, he too broke into a wide grin.

There was a girl on the bus, probably in her late teens, that openly stared at me for most the bus ride, about 15 minutes, carefully studying everything about me. I met her eyes several times and we both smiled, but she continued to examine me. If only we could have communicated. I would have loved to have been able to talk with her and answer any questions she might have.

The Dogs

We saw at least five large breed street dogs living on my relative’s block. Multiply that by almost every block in Yangon. That’s a lot of dogs.

They wander in and out of the traffic, laze around in the shade, and dig through garbage. With so much chaotic traffic, I honestly don’t know how they don’t get hit by cars, it’s like they’re magic Teflon dogs.

At night they get together and howl and howl. It’s a bit eerie.

Pedestrian Woes

The first afternoon here, I followed my relative as he walked briskly to his apartment from our hotel. He was walking in the street, between the parked cars and masses of heavy, chaotic traffic. I assumed there were no sidewalks, but then I noticed there were.

There are tons of pedestrians walking at all hours and they all walk in the street. It’s very strange. Almost every street has a wide sidewalk, but they are rarely used. I asked my relative why no one uses the sidewalks. He didn’t know why, just that no one does.

Quite often cars coming up behind us are dangerously close. They always honk, even if they are quite a ways back, and we temporarily duck in between the parked cars to let them pass. The sidewalk seems like a much better option, but I don’t want to rock the Burmese boat, so I’m walking in the street with the best of them.

The Sunset

One afternoon Steve and I taxied out to a beautiful park near the Shwedagon Pagoda, just in time for sunset. It was glorious.

To-Do’s in Bangkok

(By No Means a Comprehensive List)

Posted October 31, 2019

Walk Around a Bit

We typically do a ton of walking when we’re in a new city. The guidebooks say that Bangkok isn’t very pedestrian friendly, but I found that besides crossing the street (see “The Game Changer” post), you can and should walk around a bit while here.

Framed ornate pictures of the King next
to and over the street

Just a couple of minutes from our guesthouse, we came across a stunning park with manicured gardens, bright flowers, and amazing structures.

The major streets typically have a center island with a gigantic, ornately framed picture of the King, along with beautiful flower beds that are in perfect condition.

It’s funny to watch as dozens of motorcycles weave their way through thick traffic at every red light so they can gain that little edge, then take off as quickly as possible at the green.

Google Map It

When planning our day, we google map our planned destination and, if google says it’s under a 20 minute walk, we go for it. The shorter the distance the better, because it is consistently very hot and humid.

Unfortunately, more often than I’d like, we end up walking longer than planned, and I end up a sweaty, dragging mess of a tourist.

Thankfully, if this happens, there’s always an air-conditioned taxi or a open-air tuk tuk ride with our name on it just around the corner.

Explore the Klongs

Take a local river taxi and explore the Klongs (canals) that meander through the city. It’s a little tricky to find where to board the boats. What worked for us was to follow along a canal until we saw stairs going down to the water level. At every set of stairs to a pier there was a bustle of activity with lots of locals going up and down. Once we knew what to look for, it was much easier to find a pier.

There are lots of options to explore the Klongs. The river taxi, used by locals, costs between 9 and 19 baht depending on the distance (.30 cents to .49 cents), but barely stops at each pier. Customers must have their head “in the game” and leap on and off as the taxi slows at each pier. You snooze, you lose.

River Taxi Express

We chose the River Taxi Express service, which is geared more to tourists. It costs significantly more (around $6), but allows easier on and off loading. One price and we had unlimited hop-on and hop-off up and down one canal for the entire day. Now that we know how it all works, I think the regular river taxi would have worked just fine for us. Whichever you choose, just get out on a canal for a fascinating look at Thai life.

Visit Wats

Our first full day in Bangkok we visited the Grand Palace, Wat Pho, and Wat Arun. These are the three big tourist sites in Bangkok, the “must-see” attractions.

All the sites are sprawling complexes, that include the Wat (temple), and Stupas (dome-shaped structures erected as Buddhist shrines), and other assorted buildings. The Grand Palace takes the prize for biggest, but not necessarily best. Each temple is unique and absolutely worth visiting.

The Grand Palace

The Grand Palace is the one attraction that absolutely everyone goes to (or so it seems). It is incredibly crowded. It opens at 8:30 am, and it seems the best bet to avoid crowds is to arrive as close to opening as possible.

Wat Pho

Wat Pho’s main feature is a reclining Buddha built by Rama III in 1832. The Buddha is 150 feet long and 50 feet high, covered in gold leaf. To say it’s an impressive sight is an understatement. But don’t just go to see this Buddha, there is a huge complex full of incredible sites.

Head of reclining Buddha at Wat Pho
Feet end

Wat Arun

Wat Arun is across the river from the other two sites, so Kobkul, our guesthouse host, told us to take the river taxi. She explained where to catch the river taxi, but neither Steve nor I could remember the name of the Pier.

4 Baht to Cross the River
Ferry across the river with picture of the King

Somehow lady luck was on our side and we walked from Wat Pho for about 20 hot and sweaty minutes in the general direction of where we thought the Pier was. We arrived at the correct Pier, and were thrilled (to stop walking in the heat). We paid the 4 baht each (about .13 cents) and rode across the river.

Eat Street Food

The Metro

Steve immediately pointed out the “Bang Sue”
metro stop. Geez.

Kobkul, our Thai host, told us the best street food in Bangkok is found in Chinatown. The street vendors start at 8 pm. Kobkul recommended we take the metro system, since Chinatown is pretty far from the house. I was curious to see what the metro was like, since all the above ground traffic is a bit chaotic and uncontrolled. To my surprise, the metro is very modern, sleek, orderly, and clean. Our tickets cost 28 baht, or .92 cents, each way. It was a fast, comfortable, and air-conditioned way to travel under the city.

The Throngs

Coming out of the Metro, we walked a ways, not sure which way to go. Finally we turned a corner and we were suddenly in the midst of a throng of people and street vendors. So much activity, flashing lights, and noise. Thousands of people were jammed on both sides of the street. People edged along as best they could, squeezed between the food vendors, each other, and the cars. We joined the crowds and walked along, a bit overwhelmed by all the people and food choices.

Incredible, mouth-watering aromas wafted over us, changing every 10 steps or so. Every vendor had their own kitchen set up and was cranking out their specialty to the waiting crowds. Many popular vendors had long lines of waiting fans. Vendors cooked noodles and stir-fries in large, blackened woks heated by big gas-fed flames. Satay skewers sizzled on large BBQ’s. Dipping sauces bubbled on the stove. Everywhere I looked the vendors were cooking and prepping.

Mouthwatering

Admittedly, there was a large percentage of food that we just couldn’t identify. We weren’t even sure if some foods were desserts or savory, so we tended to stick with what is familiar, pot stickers and a noodle dish. The pot stickers were the best ever. Crunchy and fried, but not greasy, with a very subtle hint of sweetness to the dough. And the noodle dish, with the thick, chewy noodles and spicy garlic sauce was spot on. Wow, so good.

Absorb the Local Flavor

We stayed four nights in a Thai guesthouse, with a local, in a typical Bangkok neighborhood. We had an authentic experience that we wouldn’t have had in a hotel. And we saved a ton of money too. We spent $28 a night, which included a wonderful Thai breakfast, tons of tips from our host, and some special and unexpected treats, like lotus flower seeds Kobkul found especially for us.

Our choice probably isn’t right for everyone, but I loved it.

Meeting Kobkul

It was such a pleasure getting to know Kobkul, our guesthouse owner. She’s lived in this home for four years, but in the neighborhood for forty. Her house, named “Air Raid Shelter 3” on the Airbnb website, is located at 74 Machachai Road, just across the street from a famous Pad Thai restaurant, Thipsamai (that is mentioned in every guidebook, but really is nothing special).

Breakfast at the Guesthouse

Breakfast is served each morning at 8:30 am down in Kobkul’s cafe on the ground level. It’s not what I would typically call a cafe, it’s more like a coffee stop. She has a nice espresso maker and refrigerated display case full of drinks, that faces out to the street front. She serves coffee and cold drinks to folks passing by.

For our breakfast, we sit at one of the two tiny round wooden tables she has for her guests. There’s only one proper size chair, which I seem to always grab first. Steve sits on a tiny stool to my left (sorry, dude).

Kobkul sets two Bento boxes down on the table in front of us, one each. Our meal consists of hot rice (white or stir-fry), a bit of meat (chicken or pork), sometimes some cucumbers or spices, and some kind of fruit or muffin for dessert. And every day there’s a tiny baggie filled with a delectable sauce, sometimes spicy, sometimes sweet. It’s fun opening your little baggie to see what sauce you have that morning. Kobkul makes great coffee (I get mine iced because it’s so dang hot out), and often provides something small and sweet to finish out the meal.

Just Eat It

Dessert: Strange fruit wrapped in coconut
and little muffins cooked in banana leaf

To be honest, we didn’t always know what Kobkul served us. One morning there was a dark blob of something in and among my rice, meat, and sauce, and I had no idea what it was. It was a chocolate brown color and had the consistency of a solid, non-shiny, chunk of jello.

I tried a couple of small bites. It didn’t have much flavor. I asked Kobkul what it was. She kind of laughed nervously and said I may not like it. She said it was from a chicken, then she pointed up and down to her inner forearm. I have no idea what she was trying to tell me, and I have to say I felt really uncomfortable about the brown blob after that. I’ve done an extensive google search to try to figure it out, to no avail. Suffice to say that Steve finished the brown blob for me so I didn’t offend Kobkul. Thanks, Steve, I owe you one.

Update: After consulting with my sister-in-law, Ina, who is Indonesian, it turns out the congealed chocolate brown mass was chicken blood. Hmmmm…so glad I didn’t finish that up. So interesting how different foods are customary in different cultures.

The Guesthouse Shower

The guesthouse bathroom was a first for us, an “all-in-one” set-up. An avocado green toilet and matching sink, along with bright green tiles and plastic green flooring, make up the small, square bathroom. What makes the bathroom unique (to us), was that the shower head was mounted on the wall above the toilet, a little to the left.

A Wet Room

When you shut the door, the entire room became the shower. It’s called a “wet room”. When showering, everything inside the bathroom gets soaked including the toilet, walls, and sink.

We shared the bathroom with two nice 20-something women from France, who were traveling in SE Asia for two months. I never knew when I was going to encounter a sopping wet bathroom, and sit on a drenched toilet (and I’m sure they felt the same way). It really wasn’t a problem once I got used to the idea – it was just water, after all.

Take Precautions

Speaking of water everywhere, there really should be a warning sign posted in bathrooms like this (for us novices), reminding us to set the toilet paper, the towel, and eyeglasses (if applicable) outside the shower before turning on the water. I only soaked one toilet paper roll that one time (during a shower), I promise.

The Mantra

Perhaps a delicate bathroom topic, but worth mentioning, is that we can’t flush TP down the toilet. I’ve encountered this same issue in Mexico a few times. The plumbing just can’t handle the paper, so it is what it is.

Every time I sat on the pot I’d repeat my mantra, “Don’t put TP in the toilet, don’t put TP in the toilet, don’t put TP in the toilet”, until my business was complete and the TP was securely in the garbage bin provided.

Steve Wins

I only had to fish out the TP twice in 4 days, when apparently my mind wandered from my mantra. Steve only had to fish out the TP once. Steve wins.

Spicy Food: Special Note

Do not touch your face after sprinkling hot chili on your food using bare fingers. It’s a bad idea, unless you like having a burning, stinging face for about 30 minutes.

The Game Changer

Posted October 28, 2019

Crossing the Street

Trying not to get hit by a car, motorcycle, moped, tuk-tuk, or bicycle is a full time job here in Bangkok. You may think I’m kidding, but I’m not.

I’ve read about how crazy the traffic is in Bangkok, and I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t. There are a zillion vehicles of varying sizes and speeds, all going as fast as they possibly can, with multi-lane streets, some up to 8 lanes across.

The Other Side

But the real clincher, the game changer, is that the Thais drive on the other side of the road. When I first realized this, I thought it was kind of cool. After all, I’d never spent time in a country where they drive on the left. What a novelty.

Unfortunately, I had no idea how much this would personally impact me, and so soon too. But when you plunk two sleep deprived Americans down in Bangkok, who are are carrying fairly large backpacks, then add in this seemingly minor fact of traffic going the opposite direction, it’s a potential recipe for disaster.

The Arrival

Let me explain. We arrived at Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok, got some baht (Thai money), and found a taxi (no small feat).

After a 50 minute drive, the taxi driver pulled up and said something in Thai to our blank, unregistering faces. Thankfully he then motioned for us to get out of the car on the sidewalk side. Got it. We can do that.

Our Airbnb Guesthouse.
Cafe on the bottom, we’re one floor up.

The taxi driver drove away. We stood, surveying the situation. Stepping out of the quiet, air conditioned taxi into the street was jarring. Intense heat and humidity rudely hit us in the face, while chaotic commotion, honking, loud engine backfires, and motorcycle engines winding came from every direction. It was a little disorienting, to say the least.

Four Lanes

We were merely four lanes of traffic away from our Airbnb, just across the street. There was no crosswalk or signal in sight. Looking to our left, the two lanes of traffic closest to us were backed up solid to where we were standing. We took another quick glance at the street and the entire four lanes appeared to be clear, so we went for it.

The Crossing

We approached the center line in the street and hung back for a quick moment, checking to our right, verifying one last time that it was clear to cross. It was completely clear, so we started our dash across the last two lanes.

It looked like our street crossing would be successful and without incident. No biggie, we got this.

We were just entering the third lane of traffic when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, there was fast movement to my left. I hadn’t even looked left. All my life experience told me that cars only come from the right. Big mistake.

The Finale

I now know the true meaning of the phrase “Like a Deer Caught in the Headlights”. All I could think of was, “We’re F*&cked”. I froze. I think it was only a second, but it is indelibly seared in my mind. That moment of sheer panic and disbelief, as a fast moving taxi, the lead in a pack of vehicles, was bearing down on us. It was dangerously close to hitting us.

Proverbial “Deer Caught
in the Headlights”

I’m not even sure what Steve was doing at that moment. It was every man for himself.

Somehow my brain kicked back into gear, the taxi (must have) slowed, and we made it to the far sidewalk.

Welcome to Bangkok.

Wins & Losses

Wins

> Enlisting Kobkul, our Airbnb hostess, to flag down a taxi and insist they use the meter. We get the uninflated taxi price when she’s involved.

> Having a sweet, older Thai man give us unsolicited advice on how to cross the busy street. Motioning us to follow along with him, he walked us across the intersection. He had a running dialogue going in Thai. We just smiled and shook our heads, “Yes”. He motioned how to stop the fast moving vehicles by authoritatively putting an arm up, as in “STOP”, while walking directly out into the fast moving traffic.

> Knowing from travels in other countries, that the very best way to cross a busy street is to shadow a local. If a local start crossing, we follow along, a step or two back in their wake. Works great.

> Getting the street crossing drill down-pat.

On a busy night in Chinatown, I took on a street jam-packed with cars, attempting to cross. Cars were crawling along, barely moving.

It was apparent that an approaching car wasn’t going to stop for me, but I stepped forward without hesitation, with my hand extended (in the STOP position), like I owned the road. The bumper came within a few inches of my thigh before coming to a stop. I kept moving. A woman behind me exclaimed an admiring, “Whoa”.

I hadn’t realized that a couple (of tourists) were following in our wake. I guess I earned that “Whoa”.

Losses

> Consistently paying double for a taxi or tuk tuk on the return ride “home” from our adventures around town (no Kobkul to help us). That being said, double of 40 baht ($1.10 USD) isn’t such a hardship.

The Bridge in Porto

Posted October 22, 2019

Porto is our last stop in Portugal, not counting our night in Lisbon to catch our early morning flight to Bangkok, coming up in a few days.

We’ve had six nights and five full days to enjoy this beautiful city, with only one full day left. We’ve run around to the major attractions, starting out our first day under heavy clouds, and our second day in the pouring rain.

Thankfully we’d purchased a small magenta umbrella on our way out of Coimbra, which saved us from ending up like giant, sopping wet sponges that day.

Sunshine

We woke up our third morning to bright sunshine, just like our weather app had promised.

Instead of heading down the hill for coffee, as we had done each previous morning, I suggested we try a new direction just to our north.

Truthfully, I only suggested this new route to avoid all the hills in every other direction.

The Ponte Dom Luis I Bridge

All I can say is thank goodness we went the flat and unexplored direction that third morning. The Ponte Dom Luis I bridge, an enormous, pedestrian and metro only bridge spanning 500 feet over the Douro river, laid before us, to our great surprise.

The bridge, made of dark wrought iron, towers high above the river, with steep hillsides plunging down to meet the river on all sides. The bridge was built in 1880, designed by Gustavo Eiffel’s protege, but looks new and modern.

We’d seen the bridge from below our first day out while walking the Ribeira along the waterfront. We had no idea the access was so close to where we were staying, and it wasn’t necessarily on our “to-do” list.

What a View

The sheer expanse of the view was overwhelming.

Looking east, on our left, the sun was having its way with a large patch of morning fog hovering over the bridge upriver. The fog looked like it had been placed there solely for the pleasure of the photographers, who were quickly getting in their shots before it burned off.

We could see at least two other bridges up river, along with the funicular we had taken the prior day hugging the side of the giant hill.

Looking towards the west was historic Porto, in all its splendor. And splendid it was.

We had a breathtaking view of it all. The sunshine was such an added bonus, deepening the reds of the tile roofs, brightening the whites of the stucco buildings, and glittering off the Douro River.

After Dark

We finished out that day, the way it had begun, by visiting our bridge. After all, there was no uphill or downhill to impede us, and I was excited to see the view by night.

The Ferris Wheel was all alight, changing bright colors every minute or so.

Out in the middle of the bridge, enjoying the beautiful night views and the light breeze, I started thinking about what would happen if a big earthquake hit right then. I began looking more critically down at the dark river and tiny buildings so very far below us. Suddenly I was feeling very uncomfortable.

We hightailed it off the iron bridge, and I felt much better once my feet hit solid ground. I’ve never had a reaction to heights before. Maybe it was the mediocre Chinese food we’d had for dinner just prior. Yep, that must have been it.

The Sunset

The next day, we were back “home” after a long day trip to the Douro Valley (home of Port wine). We hurried over at 6:53 pm (thanks again, weather app) to catch the sunset at the bridge. Apparently this is a popular thing to do. The bridge was crowded with tons of tourists, even late October. I can only imagine what it’s like in the summer.

Of course, even the crowds couldn’t detract from the view. It was spectacular. Like two separate sunsets in one, looking east and looking west. Good night Porto.