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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.

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.

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.

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.