I promised pictures last time. They're on Facebook. Look me up.
Cheers, everyone!
Rich
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Full Circle (Hong Kong)
My abbreviated tour of Southeast Asia has now come full circle; I am writing, once again, from Hong Kong, en route to New York tomorrow. (So this will be my penultimate post).
***
Derek and I arrived in Luang Prabang, Laos, on the afternoon of May 12th. I spent the first two hours there figuring out my travel plans for the next two days (that is, determining the optimal route to Hong Kong before the 16th): I ultimately settled on a night bus from Luang Prabang to Vientiane on the 13th, then a morning flight to Bangkok, and finally another flight to Hong Kong on the night of the 14th. I saved about 100 bucks doing it my way, and not that of the travel agent. Since I'm currently unemployed, my time is worth less today than when I was working; it made sense to spend time scraping for those extra dollars.
***
As I've written previously, I detest night buses. The one I took to Vientiane two nights ago (right after my awesome day in Luang Prabang; see below) trumped them all. Although I had the luxury of fully lying down across the aisle (the bus was only a quarter full), I got no sleep. The roads in Laos are slow and windy (there are no expressways), so the rolling jerkiness of the ride prevented the inertia it takes to achieve a sleepful state. Moreover, in order to keep himself awake (it seemed), the bus driver kept a looping track of awful Lao music on full blast the entire time. Finally, there was no restroom (typical) or air conditioning (atypical). Whatever could have been designed for a person's discomfort on a bus ride, was.
***
On our first (and my only) night in Luang Prabang, we went to dinner at Indochina Spirit, touted by Derek's guidebook as "the best restaurant in Luang Prabang, if not all of Laos." Sorry to say, I wasn't impressed. I ordered the special "Lao Plate," a multi-course sampling of Lao cooking: fish soup, fried bamboo shoots with minced pork, Lao "sausage" (essentially fried pieces of pork, and not sausage in the traditional sense), and dried Mekong seaweed with sesame seeds (eaten like potato chips). Derek's pepper steak (there was a Western menu as well) looked like a better choice, but not by much.
Fortunately, Day Two in Luang Prabang fully made up for the prior day's lost time (associated with travel, an unavoidable friction cost) and unsatisfying dining experience. Derek and I hired a guide to take us on a motorcycle tour--each man to his own bike--of the countryside surrounding the city.
Outings like this are what make a trip special. Better writers than I have communicated the poetry of riding a motorcycle; I don't have such a gift, so I won't try to compete with them. I'll be more prosaic. The precarious boundary between physical freedom, at high speeds, inches from the earth you're exploring, and painful injury (if not worse), is a thrill that very few things in this world can provide. Skiing down a steep mountain also comes to mind--it puts you in a place you'd never ordinarily go, were it not for the highly specialized tools (and sense of adventure) in your possession. On a motorcycle, you approach that boundary when, for example, you fishtail after braking too hard on a loose pile of gravel, or accidentally accelerate when you meant to slow down. Scared shitless for a moment, and then all is well in the world again.
And, a propos of motorcycles, fierce beasts, strange and potentially dangerous foods, and societies with no discernible rule of law ("What are...things you may encounter in Southeast Asia?"): With youth often comes the notion that the world owes you the chance--and sometimes multiple chances--to be reckless. I've never subscribed to that notion as a way of life, per se, nor do I still consider myself a youth, but I must admit that I've enjoyed the chance to be a tad reckless over here. I'll try not to romanticize the experience too much (this is but a vacation, after all), but I am grateful to have had it, if only for a few weeks. I realize that quotidian reality beckons, and when I am honest with myself, I know that I desire a structured version of that reality, complete with potable tap water and modern healthcare.
***
As I prepare to return home, here are some other things I am most looking forward to (in no particular order):
- Patsy's pizza (Patsy's is a restaurant, for my non-New York readers)
- A shave and a haircut from Yuri, my barber on East 52nd Street
- A pot of coffee and two newspapers every morning
- Tim Keller's preaching at Redeemer
- Baseball season
- Living out of a proper bureau and closet, not a backpack
- And of course, seeing all of your friendly faces around town
I fly tomorrow morning at 9:30. Big night out in Hong Kong tonight. I'll set two alarms.
***
Derek and I arrived in Luang Prabang, Laos, on the afternoon of May 12th. I spent the first two hours there figuring out my travel plans for the next two days (that is, determining the optimal route to Hong Kong before the 16th): I ultimately settled on a night bus from Luang Prabang to Vientiane on the 13th, then a morning flight to Bangkok, and finally another flight to Hong Kong on the night of the 14th. I saved about 100 bucks doing it my way, and not that of the travel agent. Since I'm currently unemployed, my time is worth less today than when I was working; it made sense to spend time scraping for those extra dollars.
***
As I've written previously, I detest night buses. The one I took to Vientiane two nights ago (right after my awesome day in Luang Prabang; see below) trumped them all. Although I had the luxury of fully lying down across the aisle (the bus was only a quarter full), I got no sleep. The roads in Laos are slow and windy (there are no expressways), so the rolling jerkiness of the ride prevented the inertia it takes to achieve a sleepful state. Moreover, in order to keep himself awake (it seemed), the bus driver kept a looping track of awful Lao music on full blast the entire time. Finally, there was no restroom (typical) or air conditioning (atypical). Whatever could have been designed for a person's discomfort on a bus ride, was.
***
On our first (and my only) night in Luang Prabang, we went to dinner at Indochina Spirit, touted by Derek's guidebook as "the best restaurant in Luang Prabang, if not all of Laos." Sorry to say, I wasn't impressed. I ordered the special "Lao Plate," a multi-course sampling of Lao cooking: fish soup, fried bamboo shoots with minced pork, Lao "sausage" (essentially fried pieces of pork, and not sausage in the traditional sense), and dried Mekong seaweed with sesame seeds (eaten like potato chips). Derek's pepper steak (there was a Western menu as well) looked like a better choice, but not by much.
Fortunately, Day Two in Luang Prabang fully made up for the prior day's lost time (associated with travel, an unavoidable friction cost) and unsatisfying dining experience. Derek and I hired a guide to take us on a motorcycle tour--each man to his own bike--of the countryside surrounding the city.
Outings like this are what make a trip special. Better writers than I have communicated the poetry of riding a motorcycle; I don't have such a gift, so I won't try to compete with them. I'll be more prosaic. The precarious boundary between physical freedom, at high speeds, inches from the earth you're exploring, and painful injury (if not worse), is a thrill that very few things in this world can provide. Skiing down a steep mountain also comes to mind--it puts you in a place you'd never ordinarily go, were it not for the highly specialized tools (and sense of adventure) in your possession. On a motorcycle, you approach that boundary when, for example, you fishtail after braking too hard on a loose pile of gravel, or accidentally accelerate when you meant to slow down. Scared shitless for a moment, and then all is well in the world again.
And, a propos of motorcycles, fierce beasts, strange and potentially dangerous foods, and societies with no discernible rule of law ("What are...things you may encounter in Southeast Asia?"): With youth often comes the notion that the world owes you the chance--and sometimes multiple chances--to be reckless. I've never subscribed to that notion as a way of life, per se, nor do I still consider myself a youth, but I must admit that I've enjoyed the chance to be a tad reckless over here. I'll try not to romanticize the experience too much (this is but a vacation, after all), but I am grateful to have had it, if only for a few weeks. I realize that quotidian reality beckons, and when I am honest with myself, I know that I desire a structured version of that reality, complete with potable tap water and modern healthcare.
***
As I prepare to return home, here are some other things I am most looking forward to (in no particular order):
- Patsy's pizza (Patsy's is a restaurant, for my non-New York readers)
- A shave and a haircut from Yuri, my barber on East 52nd Street
- A pot of coffee and two newspapers every morning
- Tim Keller's preaching at Redeemer
- Baseball season
- Living out of a proper bureau and closet, not a backpack
- And of course, seeing all of your friendly faces around town
I fly tomorrow morning at 9:30. Big night out in Hong Kong tonight. I'll set two alarms.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Star Trekking (Chiang Mai, Thailand)
I last posted just before getting onto a boat to cruise among the islands around Koh Phi Phi. That afternoon, we went snorkelling (the water was a bit cloudy from the previous night's rainfall), fed pineapples and bananas to the macaques on Monkey Island, and hung out on the beach at Maya Bay (where "The Beach" was filmed). (By the way, watching monkeys interact with each other makes a pretty convincing case in favor of evolution, by my reckoning at least. Eerily humanlike behavior.)
After more beach time on Phi Phi, Derek and I hopped a flight back to Bangkok. We spent the next day touring Bangkok in a "tuk-tuk," which is an odd 3-wheeled hybrid vehicle, fairly common in Southeast Asia--part motorcycle, part pickup truck, part taxi. And after one day, we'd breathed enough of the polluted city air that we decided to take a bus westward to Kanchanaburi.
For the next two days around Kanchanaburi, we did some more of the outdoor stuff for which Thailand is known: riding elephants, playing with tigers, swimming underneath picturesque waterfalls, and so on. We also took a train trip along the "Death Railway" near the Burmese border--so named because of the large number (100,000+) of Allied soldiers, Burmese and Malay captives who died during its construction in WWII.
After Kanchanaburi, we took the bus back to Bangkok and went immediately to the train station, where we boarded a night train to Chiang Mai, in Northern Thailand. We arrived in Chiang Mai around 7 AM and met up with the rest of our trekking group (outdoor trekking is the thing to do in Chiang Mai) around 10 AM. By early afternoon, we were on the trail. The first day's hike was a tough one, almost entirely uphill. It rained during the last half hour, just before we reached our camp--a bamboo hut located in one of the tribal villages. Once in the village, we were able to dry off, drink beers, start a campfire, and enjoy a dinner of yellow curry. We also saw some people smoke opium that night--a weird thing to see for the first time.
I woke up the next morning with dozens of welts on my body, mostly on my left arm, but in other spots as well. I suspect that ants or some other creature were the culprit (probably not mosquitoes, however). The itching and swelling have come down in the last 24 hours, but it's still annoying (and surprisingly, it's the first notable health issue I've had over here; nothing to worry about, though). Other casualties of the trek: a scratched watch and bruised hip, both suffered while sliding down a waterfall.
We hiked downhill most of the day yesterday, and concluded the trip with some whitewater rafting (though there wasn't much "whitewater" to speak of, given that it's the dry season) before heading back to town. I tried to lead the group singing effort on the way back. It worked for about 10 minutes.
Last night, we were too tired to go out in Chiang Mai, so Derek and I went to see the new Star Trek movie (the second reference in this post's title). The movie was fine, but the most entertaining thing happened during the previews, when everyone in the theater stood silently to "pay homage to his majesty the King." I suppose it's akin to singing the National Anthem before a baseball game, but it was bizarre. They still take royalty seriously over here.
We leave today for Luang Prabang, Laos, which will be my last stop before returning to Hong Kong (from which I'll then fly back to New York). I expect that my next (and likely final) post will be written from my apartment. Complete with pictures, too.
After more beach time on Phi Phi, Derek and I hopped a flight back to Bangkok. We spent the next day touring Bangkok in a "tuk-tuk," which is an odd 3-wheeled hybrid vehicle, fairly common in Southeast Asia--part motorcycle, part pickup truck, part taxi. And after one day, we'd breathed enough of the polluted city air that we decided to take a bus westward to Kanchanaburi.
For the next two days around Kanchanaburi, we did some more of the outdoor stuff for which Thailand is known: riding elephants, playing with tigers, swimming underneath picturesque waterfalls, and so on. We also took a train trip along the "Death Railway" near the Burmese border--so named because of the large number (100,000+) of Allied soldiers, Burmese and Malay captives who died during its construction in WWII.
After Kanchanaburi, we took the bus back to Bangkok and went immediately to the train station, where we boarded a night train to Chiang Mai, in Northern Thailand. We arrived in Chiang Mai around 7 AM and met up with the rest of our trekking group (outdoor trekking is the thing to do in Chiang Mai) around 10 AM. By early afternoon, we were on the trail. The first day's hike was a tough one, almost entirely uphill. It rained during the last half hour, just before we reached our camp--a bamboo hut located in one of the tribal villages. Once in the village, we were able to dry off, drink beers, start a campfire, and enjoy a dinner of yellow curry. We also saw some people smoke opium that night--a weird thing to see for the first time.
I woke up the next morning with dozens of welts on my body, mostly on my left arm, but in other spots as well. I suspect that ants or some other creature were the culprit (probably not mosquitoes, however). The itching and swelling have come down in the last 24 hours, but it's still annoying (and surprisingly, it's the first notable health issue I've had over here; nothing to worry about, though). Other casualties of the trek: a scratched watch and bruised hip, both suffered while sliding down a waterfall.
We hiked downhill most of the day yesterday, and concluded the trip with some whitewater rafting (though there wasn't much "whitewater" to speak of, given that it's the dry season) before heading back to town. I tried to lead the group singing effort on the way back. It worked for about 10 minutes.
Last night, we were too tired to go out in Chiang Mai, so Derek and I went to see the new Star Trek movie (the second reference in this post's title). The movie was fine, but the most entertaining thing happened during the previews, when everyone in the theater stood silently to "pay homage to his majesty the King." I suppose it's akin to singing the National Anthem before a baseball game, but it was bizarre. They still take royalty seriously over here.
We leave today for Luang Prabang, Laos, which will be my last stop before returning to Hong Kong (from which I'll then fly back to New York). I expect that my next (and likely final) post will be written from my apartment. Complete with pictures, too.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Land of the Ladyboys (Koh Phi Phi, Thailand)
After Nha Trang, I spent two days in Saigon before finally concluding the Vietnam portion of my trip. In total, I spent two and a half weeks in Vietnam--several days longer than planned, and at the expense of other locations. Totally worth it. The highlight of my trip.
Then, I flew to Bangkok and ultimately caught up with Derek in Phuket, Thailand, a few days ago. Before I write about Thailand, however, a few closing thoughts on Vietnam:
It is necessary to realize that a visit to the country requires a significant relaxation in Western standards. The place is dirty. Rules of the road as we understand them do not exist. Socialism, black markets, and the country's bribery culture make it tough to run a profitable business.
Yet the system works (according to non-Western standards, anyway). It's useless to try to compare the level of happiness of a typical Vietnamese person with that of an American, for instance, because our philosophies on freedom, individualism, and natural rights are derived from wholly different underlying assumptions. (I'll refrain from pontificating on why our system is better, and more consistent with the dignity inherent in being a human. Leave it as an accepted truth for the moment). But overall, they do seem happy, and they genuinely appreciate visitors' interest in their country. This is all the more impressive in contrast to the tragedy that's befallen Vietnam for a large part of its history.
(While I am on the subject of tragedy, I made sure to visit the Vietnam War Remnants Museum in Saigon. It was graphic, candid, and tough to stomach. I was reminded of a quote I once heard, though I can't locate its source (paraphrased): "There is no evil of which the human mind cannot conceive.")
***
On the brighter side, you'll be pleased to know that I can see the white sand and emerald waters of Kho Phi Phi (an island off the coast of Phuket) from where I'm currently seated. Derek and I are taking off for an afternoon boat tour of the surrounding islands in about an hour.
My first two nights in Thailand, in Phuket town and Patong Beach, respectively, were uneventful. Patong resembles a sad combination of Bourbon Street in New Orleans and the Strip in Panama City Beach--the two most distasteful spots on Earth, in my opinion (Times Square in New York gets my vote for third place). And it is crawling with so-called "Ladyboys." Google the term if you don't know (or can't guess) what it means.
Kho Phi Phi (pronounced "Ko Pee Pee") is an infinitely nicer spot, and the crowd composition here is more consistent with what I might care to be associated in real (non-vacation) life.
***
The countdown to the 16th is getting louder. Derek and I will spend a week or so in Thailand, and then choose between Cambodia and Laos to close out my part of the trip (Derek's staying on after I return to the States). Until next time...
Then, I flew to Bangkok and ultimately caught up with Derek in Phuket, Thailand, a few days ago. Before I write about Thailand, however, a few closing thoughts on Vietnam:
It is necessary to realize that a visit to the country requires a significant relaxation in Western standards. The place is dirty. Rules of the road as we understand them do not exist. Socialism, black markets, and the country's bribery culture make it tough to run a profitable business.
Yet the system works (according to non-Western standards, anyway). It's useless to try to compare the level of happiness of a typical Vietnamese person with that of an American, for instance, because our philosophies on freedom, individualism, and natural rights are derived from wholly different underlying assumptions. (I'll refrain from pontificating on why our system is better, and more consistent with the dignity inherent in being a human. Leave it as an accepted truth for the moment). But overall, they do seem happy, and they genuinely appreciate visitors' interest in their country. This is all the more impressive in contrast to the tragedy that's befallen Vietnam for a large part of its history.
(While I am on the subject of tragedy, I made sure to visit the Vietnam War Remnants Museum in Saigon. It was graphic, candid, and tough to stomach. I was reminded of a quote I once heard, though I can't locate its source (paraphrased): "There is no evil of which the human mind cannot conceive.")
***
On the brighter side, you'll be pleased to know that I can see the white sand and emerald waters of Kho Phi Phi (an island off the coast of Phuket) from where I'm currently seated. Derek and I are taking off for an afternoon boat tour of the surrounding islands in about an hour.
My first two nights in Thailand, in Phuket town and Patong Beach, respectively, were uneventful. Patong resembles a sad combination of Bourbon Street in New Orleans and the Strip in Panama City Beach--the two most distasteful spots on Earth, in my opinion (Times Square in New York gets my vote for third place). And it is crawling with so-called "Ladyboys." Google the term if you don't know (or can't guess) what it means.
Kho Phi Phi (pronounced "Ko Pee Pee") is an infinitely nicer spot, and the crowd composition here is more consistent with what I might care to be associated in real (non-vacation) life.
***
The countdown to the 16th is getting louder. Derek and I will spend a week or so in Thailand, and then choose between Cambodia and Laos to close out my part of the trip (Derek's staying on after I return to the States). Until next time...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Faith in Mankind (Nha Trang, Vietnam)
I've had many coaches in my life. One of my favorites was Ron Link, my little league baseball coach when I was ten. (By day, Link was a highly successful high school basketball coach in Snellville, Georgia. His son, Chad, and I were on the same little league team).
Link was a great storyteller and a clever wit, among other things. One concept he repeated often, which I've noodled over consistently for the past couple of years, was his sarcastic derision of a person's imprudent "faith in mankind" (Link was a religious man). As in, if you see someone doing something especially dangerous or stupid, you could say that person has a lot of faith in mankind. Coach Link drove the point home better verbally than I can from a keyboard, but hopefully you get the idea.
(Coach Link also had a funny--though racist--way of describing how I ran the bases. The analogy, I admit, applied throughout my playing days; I was the second slowest player on my college team).
***
My point is this: I held an imprudent level of faith in mankind--myself specifically--for much of my life. Human events and my growing spiritual maturity as a Christian, on the other hand, have caused me to adopt a new outlook: Today, I gladly acknowledge that there is yet freedom, and ultimately peace, in knowing that planning is best left to God. No one, not even the greatest among us, is immune from the possibility of being humbled by external factors. Nor do any designs matter besides God's. A study of Israel's history in the Old Testament, for example, not to mention any modern newspaper, ought to convince my readers that this is true.
It turns out that the direction in which I felt God was steering me--graduate school in divinity studies--is not to be, at least not right now. When I return to New York in a couple of weeks, I'll have to rely on God--in combination, of course, with the abilities and opportunities He's given me--to send me to the proper place. Perhaps I'll remain in New York, perhaps not. Perhaps I'll remain in finance, perhaps not. Acting without prayer and petition, at any rate, is indeed a dark and lonely road for a mere human in a fallen world.
But I am optimistic! Doors open sooner or later. I've not gone a day on this earth without a place to lay my head at night--something you're forced to consider while traveling abroad--and there is no reason to anticipate otherwise. (Besides, I know for a fact that if nothing else, I could teach English or French here and live like a king, though probably not a queen, for a paltry amount of money).
***
By the way, in the past five days I have: drunk cobra blood (with vodka), driven a motorcycle, dived among exotic coral and fishes in the South China Sea, and gotten in several hours of beach time. I still haven't shaved.
I am exploring buying a motorcycle once I'm back in the States. (I acknowledge the irony of that statement, in light of the title of this post. Incidentally, I also invest in the stock market; one who rides a motorcycle is probably equally risk averse, which is to say not much).
Staying here past the 16th is tempting, but actual responsibilities will eventually triumph over my vagabond lifestyle in Southeast Asia. Of course, if swine flu renders traveling to North America too risky by that time, I'll be happy to take in more of this amazing part of the world.
Link was a great storyteller and a clever wit, among other things. One concept he repeated often, which I've noodled over consistently for the past couple of years, was his sarcastic derision of a person's imprudent "faith in mankind" (Link was a religious man). As in, if you see someone doing something especially dangerous or stupid, you could say that person has a lot of faith in mankind. Coach Link drove the point home better verbally than I can from a keyboard, but hopefully you get the idea.
(Coach Link also had a funny--though racist--way of describing how I ran the bases. The analogy, I admit, applied throughout my playing days; I was the second slowest player on my college team).
***
My point is this: I held an imprudent level of faith in mankind--myself specifically--for much of my life. Human events and my growing spiritual maturity as a Christian, on the other hand, have caused me to adopt a new outlook: Today, I gladly acknowledge that there is yet freedom, and ultimately peace, in knowing that planning is best left to God. No one, not even the greatest among us, is immune from the possibility of being humbled by external factors. Nor do any designs matter besides God's. A study of Israel's history in the Old Testament, for example, not to mention any modern newspaper, ought to convince my readers that this is true.
It turns out that the direction in which I felt God was steering me--graduate school in divinity studies--is not to be, at least not right now. When I return to New York in a couple of weeks, I'll have to rely on God--in combination, of course, with the abilities and opportunities He's given me--to send me to the proper place. Perhaps I'll remain in New York, perhaps not. Perhaps I'll remain in finance, perhaps not. Acting without prayer and petition, at any rate, is indeed a dark and lonely road for a mere human in a fallen world.
But I am optimistic! Doors open sooner or later. I've not gone a day on this earth without a place to lay my head at night--something you're forced to consider while traveling abroad--and there is no reason to anticipate otherwise. (Besides, I know for a fact that if nothing else, I could teach English or French here and live like a king, though probably not a queen, for a paltry amount of money).
***
By the way, in the past five days I have: drunk cobra blood (with vodka), driven a motorcycle, dived among exotic coral and fishes in the South China Sea, and gotten in several hours of beach time. I still haven't shaved.
I am exploring buying a motorcycle once I'm back in the States. (I acknowledge the irony of that statement, in light of the title of this post. Incidentally, I also invest in the stock market; one who rides a motorcycle is probably equally risk averse, which is to say not much).
Staying here past the 16th is tempting, but actual responsibilities will eventually triumph over my vagabond lifestyle in Southeast Asia. Of course, if swine flu renders traveling to North America too risky by that time, I'll be happy to take in more of this amazing part of the world.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Damn Hot (Hoi An, Vietnam)
I last posted just before heading out for two days on the water in Halong Bay. After Halong, I shot back to Hanoi briefly, and then spent about 36 hours apiece in Ninh Binh and Hue. I'm now writing from Hoi An, on Vietnam's central coast. For once, I'll be spending consecutive nights in a Vietnamese city.
***
Halong was another must-see spot in North Vietnam, located along the well-beaten tourist trail. I met a handful each of Aussies and Germans on the boat, plus my two new Dutch friends, Frank and Desiree, with whom I ended up staying in two more cities. (I've met few Americans in any city so far).
We sailed, kayaked, swam, ate, drank, and karaoked amid the hundreds of rock karsts that dot the water in Halong. Karsts are a fixture of the landscape of Southeast Asia; the most scenic spots are differentiated by what's underneath them--water in Halong and rice paddies in Tam Coc (Ninh Binh), for instance.
***
It was necessary to backtrack to Hanoi after Halong (I bought an "Open Bus" ticket that will get me from Hanoi to Saigon with multiple stops in between, subject only to my own chosen schedule), but Frank, Des and I were able to grab a late bus to Ninh Binh that night. We woke up the next morning and rented bikes to explore Tam Coc ("Three Caves"), which is a few kilometers outside the city of Ninh Binh. Yet more karst scenery, temples and pagodas.
That day was the first of several scorching hot days (high 80's and low 90's, and humid) that haven't let up since.
***
The three of us took a night bus from Ninh Binh to Hue (trip time 11 hours). (I am starting to detest night buses and trains--they're dirty and claustrophobic--but they do provide a good way to see a lot of places in a short period of time).
Hue's a neat city, and in fact was Vietnam's capital for most of the 19th century and almost half of the 20th. Most sightseeing is centered around the imperial architecture--which suffered severely from the effects of war--from this period.
***
Yesterday, I took an afternoon bus to Hoi An--the world's greatest city for cheap, tailor-made clothing. Within a few hours of my arrival, I had put down a 50% deposit on: 3 suits, 3 sport jackets, 2 pairs of pants, and a (free) shirt. Today, I bought 2 silk robes and 2 pairs of pajamas. Turnaround in under 24 hours. Total cost less than $1,000. Unbelievable.
I can recommend a good shop (among the dozens of not-so-good ones here) if anyone's interested: Yaly, at 358 Nguyen Duy Hieu Street. Attentive service, high-quality materials, reasonable prices, and good English. Mick Jagger (apparently) shops there.
For tomorrow, I've hired a motorcycle guide to take me to some of the less trafficked spots around Hoi An--waterfalls, old Cham ruins and so forth. If nothing else, being on a cycle will help mitigate the heat.
***
Devoting significant, specific attention to the food I've eaten has proven difficult in Vietnam, only because all of it has generally been outstanding. The seafood is fresh, the spring rolls have plenty of variety (papaya, mango, chili peppers, corn, fresh mint, and other ingredients, in addition to the usual shrimp, pork, rice noodles, etc.), and nothing lacks flavor. One of my favorite dishes of the past week has been goat cooked with lemongrass and sesame seeds, then wrapped in rice paper with mint, pineapple, an unfamiliar green vegetable, and a spicy peanut sauce. I've eaten my fair share of pho, as well--no complaints. Few, if any, of the places I've eaten (whether roadside stands or reasonably upscale restaurants) would pass a health inspection back home, but it doesn't seem to matter.
If anyone's wondering, I haven't yet eaten dog or snake, but both are on my list.
***
Halong was another must-see spot in North Vietnam, located along the well-beaten tourist trail. I met a handful each of Aussies and Germans on the boat, plus my two new Dutch friends, Frank and Desiree, with whom I ended up staying in two more cities. (I've met few Americans in any city so far).
We sailed, kayaked, swam, ate, drank, and karaoked amid the hundreds of rock karsts that dot the water in Halong. Karsts are a fixture of the landscape of Southeast Asia; the most scenic spots are differentiated by what's underneath them--water in Halong and rice paddies in Tam Coc (Ninh Binh), for instance.
***
It was necessary to backtrack to Hanoi after Halong (I bought an "Open Bus" ticket that will get me from Hanoi to Saigon with multiple stops in between, subject only to my own chosen schedule), but Frank, Des and I were able to grab a late bus to Ninh Binh that night. We woke up the next morning and rented bikes to explore Tam Coc ("Three Caves"), which is a few kilometers outside the city of Ninh Binh. Yet more karst scenery, temples and pagodas.
That day was the first of several scorching hot days (high 80's and low 90's, and humid) that haven't let up since.
***
The three of us took a night bus from Ninh Binh to Hue (trip time 11 hours). (I am starting to detest night buses and trains--they're dirty and claustrophobic--but they do provide a good way to see a lot of places in a short period of time).
Hue's a neat city, and in fact was Vietnam's capital for most of the 19th century and almost half of the 20th. Most sightseeing is centered around the imperial architecture--which suffered severely from the effects of war--from this period.
***
Yesterday, I took an afternoon bus to Hoi An--the world's greatest city for cheap, tailor-made clothing. Within a few hours of my arrival, I had put down a 50% deposit on: 3 suits, 3 sport jackets, 2 pairs of pants, and a (free) shirt. Today, I bought 2 silk robes and 2 pairs of pajamas. Turnaround in under 24 hours. Total cost less than $1,000. Unbelievable.
I can recommend a good shop (among the dozens of not-so-good ones here) if anyone's interested: Yaly, at 358 Nguyen Duy Hieu Street. Attentive service, high-quality materials, reasonable prices, and good English. Mick Jagger (apparently) shops there.
For tomorrow, I've hired a motorcycle guide to take me to some of the less trafficked spots around Hoi An--waterfalls, old Cham ruins and so forth. If nothing else, being on a cycle will help mitigate the heat.
***
Devoting significant, specific attention to the food I've eaten has proven difficult in Vietnam, only because all of it has generally been outstanding. The seafood is fresh, the spring rolls have plenty of variety (papaya, mango, chili peppers, corn, fresh mint, and other ingredients, in addition to the usual shrimp, pork, rice noodles, etc.), and nothing lacks flavor. One of my favorite dishes of the past week has been goat cooked with lemongrass and sesame seeds, then wrapped in rice paper with mint, pineapple, an unfamiliar green vegetable, and a spicy peanut sauce. I've eaten my fair share of pho, as well--no complaints. Few, if any, of the places I've eaten (whether roadside stands or reasonably upscale restaurants) would pass a health inspection back home, but it doesn't seem to matter.
If anyone's wondering, I haven't yet eaten dog or snake, but both are on my list.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Back from Sapa / The Art of Bartering (Hanoi, Vietnam)
I'm using Hanoi as a base for a hub-and-spoke approach to seeing Northern Vietnam. I am now back in Hanoi from Lao Cai / Sapa, where I went for a two-day hike through the mountains and terraced rice fields in the area near Sapa. Another beautiful spot.
***
Before I relate details on Sapa, a few more thoughts / tips on motorcycle taxi negotiations (I had to take one from the train station to the hotel from which I'm writing):
1) Keep walking. Ignore the army of drivers who try to talk to you, grab your bags (gently, as if to say, "Here, give to me. I drive you. You like. I cheap."), or even your person.
2) Wait for them to form a competitive group of about five or ten, and then make them bid for your business. "Who's cheapest? Is it you? Is it you?" One will eventually break from the cartel.
3) Act more offended at their price quote than they at yours. The acceptable rate from the train station to my hotel is about 30,000 dong (less than $2; you negotiate out of pride and immaturity, not monetary concerns). They quoted 30k, I walked off. Then 20k, I held. (I tried to look pissed off; I was tired from the train and annoyed that they kept grabbing my sunburned forearm, so I wasn't totally bluffing).
Finally I got one of them down to 15k, restated the address specifically, and got onto the cycle. We got no more than a few feet down the road before the guy's boss stopped us, asked what his subordinate agreed to, and then indignantly kicked me off.
Another driver agreed to 20k. He took me to a different address than the one I requested, then demanded the extra 10k to actually get me there. No way, pal. He called me a few names in Vietnamese, and then slipped in a French one (salope--it's pretty unpleasant), but I'm now back at the hotel, 10k still in my wallet.
***
Sapa, again, was beautiful. We were blessed with good weather the whole time, as well.
Our tour group (me, plus a couple from Montreal, a couple from Malaysia, and a few others we picked up along the way) had one "official" guide, Tong, but we were accompanied by dozens more unofficial ones--H'mong tribeswomen who live in various villages throughout the valley. They're busy women: In addition to their household responsibilities, they spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to sell junk--bracelets, bags, and so on--to tourists hiking the trails. Many are pregnant or nursing small children, as well.
They're very amiable people, though not without an angle. One woman, Mai, spent more than an hour chatting with me (the women generally speak good English, due to their constant interaction with tourists), and even gave me a "free" friendship bracelet. Then she asked me to give her something for "free." Clever gal, redefining the meaning of that term. I gave her some unchanged HK money I found in my backpack.
We spent the night at a guest house in Ta Van village. Our hosts cooked us a dinner of chicken, vegetables, rice, and spring rolls--pretty basic Vietnamese fare--and then we all shared a bit too much homemade rice wine. I recall a dance party, too.
***
I took a night train from Lao Cai (from which you take a bus to reach Sapa), and arrived in Hanoi at about 4:30 AM this morning. I've now got just enough time to grab an iced coffee before heading out for two days to Halong Bay, on Vietnam's east coast. I need the coffee.
***
Before I relate details on Sapa, a few more thoughts / tips on motorcycle taxi negotiations (I had to take one from the train station to the hotel from which I'm writing):
1) Keep walking. Ignore the army of drivers who try to talk to you, grab your bags (gently, as if to say, "Here, give to me. I drive you. You like. I cheap."), or even your person.
2) Wait for them to form a competitive group of about five or ten, and then make them bid for your business. "Who's cheapest? Is it you? Is it you?" One will eventually break from the cartel.
3) Act more offended at their price quote than they at yours. The acceptable rate from the train station to my hotel is about 30,000 dong (less than $2; you negotiate out of pride and immaturity, not monetary concerns). They quoted 30k, I walked off. Then 20k, I held. (I tried to look pissed off; I was tired from the train and annoyed that they kept grabbing my sunburned forearm, so I wasn't totally bluffing).
Finally I got one of them down to 15k, restated the address specifically, and got onto the cycle. We got no more than a few feet down the road before the guy's boss stopped us, asked what his subordinate agreed to, and then indignantly kicked me off.
Another driver agreed to 20k. He took me to a different address than the one I requested, then demanded the extra 10k to actually get me there. No way, pal. He called me a few names in Vietnamese, and then slipped in a French one (salope--it's pretty unpleasant), but I'm now back at the hotel, 10k still in my wallet.
***
Sapa, again, was beautiful. We were blessed with good weather the whole time, as well.
Our tour group (me, plus a couple from Montreal, a couple from Malaysia, and a few others we picked up along the way) had one "official" guide, Tong, but we were accompanied by dozens more unofficial ones--H'mong tribeswomen who live in various villages throughout the valley. They're busy women: In addition to their household responsibilities, they spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to sell junk--bracelets, bags, and so on--to tourists hiking the trails. Many are pregnant or nursing small children, as well.
They're very amiable people, though not without an angle. One woman, Mai, spent more than an hour chatting with me (the women generally speak good English, due to their constant interaction with tourists), and even gave me a "free" friendship bracelet. Then she asked me to give her something for "free." Clever gal, redefining the meaning of that term. I gave her some unchanged HK money I found in my backpack.
We spent the night at a guest house in Ta Van village. Our hosts cooked us a dinner of chicken, vegetables, rice, and spring rolls--pretty basic Vietnamese fare--and then we all shared a bit too much homemade rice wine. I recall a dance party, too.
***
I took a night train from Lao Cai (from which you take a bus to reach Sapa), and arrived in Hanoi at about 4:30 AM this morning. I've now got just enough time to grab an iced coffee before heading out for two days to Halong Bay, on Vietnam's east coast. I need the coffee.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
This Ain't Your Daddy's Vietnam
Monday in Nanning went as planned--I arrived at the Vietnamese consulate when it opened and received my visa within a matter of hours.
Early Tuesday morning, I boarded a bus bound for Hanoi. I made three friends at the bus station before we took off: Steven, a Taiwanese computer consultant who lives in Danang and makes back-and-forth trips between China and Vietnam fairly frequently, and Tim and Anya, a couple from London. Steven was especially helpful with navigating customs and border protocol: The Chinese bus dropped us off at the Chinese border, we took a mini-bus through No Man's Land to the border patrol building, and got approval to leave China. Then, we took another mini-bus to the Vietnam border patrol building to have our visas checked, got approval to enter Vietnam, and finally boarded a Vietnamese bus that took us to Hanoi. Total trip time, including customs, rest stops and lunch: 8 hours, 30 minutes.
***
I did a bit of walking around Hanoi yesterday, but was too beat to do much beyond circling the neighborhood and grabbing dinner.
Today, on the other hand, has been great, and has more than made up for the drudgery of the past four days. I "hired" a guy on a motorcycle to taxi me around to various spots around Hanoi, including: Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum and adjacent museum; the Vietnam Temple of Literature; the Museum of Vietnamese Ethnology; the Hoa Lo prison (aka "Hanoi Hilton"); the Dong Xuan market (an enormous warehouse that sells any piece of junk you can imagine--if you've ever wondered where all of the knock-off purses, watches, etc. come from, this is probably the place); the Hanoi cathedral (where I furtively snapped a photo of a wedding taking place--shame on me); and a couple of Buddhist temples.
I put "hired" in quotes above because Dong, my driver, refused to negotiate a price until he dropped me back off at my hotel, at which point he began to bargain heavily. (I thought we were friends). I ended up giving him about $25 for five hours of work, in a combo of USD and Vietnamese dong, which turned out to be not far from his original ask. He won that battle, but I suspect I could get him for a better rate next time.
Separately, in the most random encounter of a friendly face I've ever experienced, I ran into a former colleague from my RBC days who now lives in Saigon (in Southern Vietnam--nowhere close to Hanoi). I'm having dinner with him and his father in a couple of hours.
***
I'll close this post with a few more thoughts on Hanoi: It's a filthy place, but in the process of modernizing. There is an enormous amount of construction going on, especially on the outskirts of town. Decades behind China, in any case.
Motorcycles are everywhere. It is safer to ride a motorcycle, it seems, than to walk. Quoting from Lonely Planet, "Might makes right (of way)." Buses, trucks, and cycles use their horns as a defensive driving tool, and you must get out of their way as they pass, else you're toast.
Pollution is a real problem, and I can actually feel my throat and lungs burning after consuming exhaust fumes all day. Once in a while you'll see people wearing face masks, though those are still pretty rare. This can't be good for life expectancy rates.
On the other hand, the food is the best I've had in any country I've visited to date and, incidentally, the cheapest. Vietnamese is generally my favorite Asian food anyway, ahead of (in order) Indian, Japanese (sushi), and Chinese. The pho (pronounced "fur," by the way, not "fo," "feu," "po," or any other butchered variation I recall hearing) is fresh and practically greaseless. The nem (spring rolls) are sizzling hot (I've only had the fried ones so far), crispy on the outside, and chewy in the middle. And the coffee is orders of magnitude better and stronger than anything I found in China--especially iced coffee, which the Vietnamese prepare with a scoop of sweetened condensed milk at the bottom of the glass before pouring the coffee on top. Delicious.
***
I entered North Vietnam much more easily than did my forebears. I am happy and thankful to be able to write that.
Early Tuesday morning, I boarded a bus bound for Hanoi. I made three friends at the bus station before we took off: Steven, a Taiwanese computer consultant who lives in Danang and makes back-and-forth trips between China and Vietnam fairly frequently, and Tim and Anya, a couple from London. Steven was especially helpful with navigating customs and border protocol: The Chinese bus dropped us off at the Chinese border, we took a mini-bus through No Man's Land to the border patrol building, and got approval to leave China. Then, we took another mini-bus to the Vietnam border patrol building to have our visas checked, got approval to enter Vietnam, and finally boarded a Vietnamese bus that took us to Hanoi. Total trip time, including customs, rest stops and lunch: 8 hours, 30 minutes.
***
I did a bit of walking around Hanoi yesterday, but was too beat to do much beyond circling the neighborhood and grabbing dinner.
Today, on the other hand, has been great, and has more than made up for the drudgery of the past four days. I "hired" a guy on a motorcycle to taxi me around to various spots around Hanoi, including: Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum and adjacent museum; the Vietnam Temple of Literature; the Museum of Vietnamese Ethnology; the Hoa Lo prison (aka "Hanoi Hilton"); the Dong Xuan market (an enormous warehouse that sells any piece of junk you can imagine--if you've ever wondered where all of the knock-off purses, watches, etc. come from, this is probably the place); the Hanoi cathedral (where I furtively snapped a photo of a wedding taking place--shame on me); and a couple of Buddhist temples.
I put "hired" in quotes above because Dong, my driver, refused to negotiate a price until he dropped me back off at my hotel, at which point he began to bargain heavily. (I thought we were friends). I ended up giving him about $25 for five hours of work, in a combo of USD and Vietnamese dong, which turned out to be not far from his original ask. He won that battle, but I suspect I could get him for a better rate next time.
Separately, in the most random encounter of a friendly face I've ever experienced, I ran into a former colleague from my RBC days who now lives in Saigon (in Southern Vietnam--nowhere close to Hanoi). I'm having dinner with him and his father in a couple of hours.
***
I'll close this post with a few more thoughts on Hanoi: It's a filthy place, but in the process of modernizing. There is an enormous amount of construction going on, especially on the outskirts of town. Decades behind China, in any case.
Motorcycles are everywhere. It is safer to ride a motorcycle, it seems, than to walk. Quoting from Lonely Planet, "Might makes right (of way)." Buses, trucks, and cycles use their horns as a defensive driving tool, and you must get out of their way as they pass, else you're toast.
Pollution is a real problem, and I can actually feel my throat and lungs burning after consuming exhaust fumes all day. Once in a while you'll see people wearing face masks, though those are still pretty rare. This can't be good for life expectancy rates.
On the other hand, the food is the best I've had in any country I've visited to date and, incidentally, the cheapest. Vietnamese is generally my favorite Asian food anyway, ahead of (in order) Indian, Japanese (sushi), and Chinese. The pho (pronounced "fur," by the way, not "fo," "feu," "po," or any other butchered variation I recall hearing) is fresh and practically greaseless. The nem (spring rolls) are sizzling hot (I've only had the fried ones so far), crispy on the outside, and chewy in the middle. And the coffee is orders of magnitude better and stronger than anything I found in China--especially iced coffee, which the Vietnamese prepare with a scoop of sweetened condensed milk at the bottom of the glass before pouring the coffee on top. Delicious.
***
I entered North Vietnam much more easily than did my forebears. I am happy and thankful to be able to write that.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Chinese Easter (Nanning, China)
As I mentioned in my last post, I'm sidelined in Nanning while I await my Vietnamese visa being processed. I can't complain too much, however, all things considered: Although Nanning is somewhat lacking in the cultural experience I'm aiming for, it's high on convenience--a mall and Super Wal-Mart are located within a few blocks of my hotel. My hotel's not bad, either--it's the nicest place I've stayed so far (aside from my friends' apartments in HK), and comparable in price (~$15 per night).
***
Briefly, a few final notes on Yangshuo:
I concluded my last post just before heading to my cooking class. There were four students in the class--me, and a family of three from Cognac, France. We began with a trip to the big Yangshuo farmer's market. A lot of what we saw you'd expect; some of the more unusual items included live birds, rabbits, and of course dogs, skinned and gutted and dangling from meat hooks.
Back at the cooking school, where class was held in an open-air room overlooking the river, we made five local dishes: mushrooms and tofu balls stuffed with minced pork and scallions; fried eggplant slices; beer fish (fish filets fried with sliced peppers and other vegetables, and then braised in beer); chicken with cashew nuts; and fried bok choi. We used woks for everything, except for the stuffed vegetables (which were steamed).
The food was excellent. And we conducted dinner--we sat down to eat once all dishes were completed--entirely in French. I also was able to do some translating between Nancy, our teacher, who spoke English but not French, and the Moreaus, who spoke French but (surprisingly) little English. (Most of the translating related to the food itself, whose terminology is familiar to any 1st- or 2nd-year French student).
Finally, a few hours after dinner, Shahak and I performed our second rock show--this time in a slightly more intimate setting (acoustic vs. electric, with no bass or drums, for example) at an Israeli-owned bar near our hostel. We didn't do terribly, but the show sort of disintegrated into all-hands karaoke by the end of the night.
***
I spent six hours yesterday on a bus to Nanning. Uneventful.
***
Today is Easter Sunday. This morning I attended the service at Zhongshanlu Christian Church, about a mile away from my hotel. I understood two words: Jesus and Mary.
The church was packed full, with about 250-300 people in the pews. The service itself contained several traditional elements: confession & response; public reading of Scripture; hymns (which were sung in Mandarin, of course, but whose melodies sounded Western); a robed choir; prayers; and the benediction. After the service, the pastor stood in the doorway and greeted the congregants on their way out. He and I nodded and smiled to each other. I even got an Easter egg, evidently painted by one of the kids.
***
Otherwise, I am using my time in Nanning to get organized. My NYC roommate, Derek, is flying over in a couple of weeks to finish the trip with me. I expect to be finished with Vietnam and somewhere in Cambodia around that time; from there, it probably makes sense to meet in Bangkok and do a south-north tour of Thailand. It's becoming increasingly likely that I'll have to sacrifice other parts of the trip--specifically Laos, Malaysia, and Singapore--based on my loose itineraries for Vietnam and Thailand. Six weeks, it turns out, is not a lot of time.
***
Briefly, a few final notes on Yangshuo:
I concluded my last post just before heading to my cooking class. There were four students in the class--me, and a family of three from Cognac, France. We began with a trip to the big Yangshuo farmer's market. A lot of what we saw you'd expect; some of the more unusual items included live birds, rabbits, and of course dogs, skinned and gutted and dangling from meat hooks.
Back at the cooking school, where class was held in an open-air room overlooking the river, we made five local dishes: mushrooms and tofu balls stuffed with minced pork and scallions; fried eggplant slices; beer fish (fish filets fried with sliced peppers and other vegetables, and then braised in beer); chicken with cashew nuts; and fried bok choi. We used woks for everything, except for the stuffed vegetables (which were steamed).
The food was excellent. And we conducted dinner--we sat down to eat once all dishes were completed--entirely in French. I also was able to do some translating between Nancy, our teacher, who spoke English but not French, and the Moreaus, who spoke French but (surprisingly) little English. (Most of the translating related to the food itself, whose terminology is familiar to any 1st- or 2nd-year French student).
Finally, a few hours after dinner, Shahak and I performed our second rock show--this time in a slightly more intimate setting (acoustic vs. electric, with no bass or drums, for example) at an Israeli-owned bar near our hostel. We didn't do terribly, but the show sort of disintegrated into all-hands karaoke by the end of the night.
***
I spent six hours yesterday on a bus to Nanning. Uneventful.
***
Today is Easter Sunday. This morning I attended the service at Zhongshanlu Christian Church, about a mile away from my hotel. I understood two words: Jesus and Mary.
The church was packed full, with about 250-300 people in the pews. The service itself contained several traditional elements: confession & response; public reading of Scripture; hymns (which were sung in Mandarin, of course, but whose melodies sounded Western); a robed choir; prayers; and the benediction. After the service, the pastor stood in the doorway and greeted the congregants on their way out. He and I nodded and smiled to each other. I even got an Easter egg, evidently painted by one of the kids.
***
Otherwise, I am using my time in Nanning to get organized. My NYC roommate, Derek, is flying over in a couple of weeks to finish the trip with me. I expect to be finished with Vietnam and somewhere in Cambodia around that time; from there, it probably makes sense to meet in Bangkok and do a south-north tour of Thailand. It's becoming increasingly likely that I'll have to sacrifice other parts of the trip--specifically Laos, Malaysia, and Singapore--based on my loose itineraries for Vietnam and Thailand. Six weeks, it turns out, is not a lot of time.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Almost Famous (Yangshuo, China)
I woke up early yesterday to catch a motorboat heading south along the Li River from Guilin to Yangshuo. The trip took a bit under four hours, and it rained on and off the entire way. In certain spots, at least, the clouds lifted enough so that we (there were seven of us on the boat) were able to see some impressive karst formations in the background, including the one shown on China's 20 yuan note. We passed dozens of other slower-moving riverboats along the way--ours was the only motorboat--and each time caught pleasant smells of dumplings, which the staff were frying in giant woks in the rear of the boats, along with the unpleasant tinge of exhaust fumes.
Yangshuo is another backpacker mecca, like Guilin, but a bit more off the beaten path. The city center reminds me of the Chinese version of an alpine village, and there are plenty of Europeans around to help seal the resemblance.
I caught up with Uri and Shahak, my Israeli friends from Guilin, who were a day ahead of me in getting here. Yesterday's highlight by far, and the inspiration for the title of this post, was the rock 'n roll gig that Shahak and I performed at one of the local bars last night. Shahak played well enough the night before my arrival that the bar's owner asked him to come back again for a second night. Shahak needed a singer, and I am generally comfortable with the classic rock set he played--Sweet Child o' Mine (an octave lower than the GNR version), Purple Haze, Ring of Fire, House of the Rising Sun, Hey Jude, and a few others--so it actually worked pretty well. Shahak's solos easily covered me when I forgot the lyrics, and we even got free beers for our efforts. Friendly crowd, too; I think they just appreciated a Western presence. We've got another gig tonight.
***
This morning, I rented a bike to explore the countryside west of town. Absolutely stunning. Rice fields, more karst formations, and an overcast sky that created a surreal, "Gorillas in the Mist" sort of backdrop. (I really do need to get my photos saved somehow. Easier said than done: There are no English program icons / commands on these computers).
The Yangshuo cooking class I signed up for begins in about an hour. The region is known for its fried noodles and "beer fish" (duck, etc.). Everything I've had so far has been pretty good, so I'm looking forward to learning how it's done.
And while I'm on food: At night, when everyone hits up the bars, tons of street-side BBQ stands open up for business. Chicken, beef, whole fishes, squid, and other mystery meats are skewered and cooked over charcoal, and everything is super-cheap. It sounds (and for the most part looks) like similar setups you'd find all over New York City. But here, nothing is refrigerated; the raw meat just sits there in the steamy heat. The end product looks pretty tasty, but I'm still afraid to put my Western stomach to the test.
***
I'm off to Nanning tomorrow morning, and will be in northern Vietnam by Tuesday afternoon if my visa suffers no delays. (Typing that sentence seems to be remarkable commentary on how far we've come in the last 35 years).
Yangshuo is another backpacker mecca, like Guilin, but a bit more off the beaten path. The city center reminds me of the Chinese version of an alpine village, and there are plenty of Europeans around to help seal the resemblance.
I caught up with Uri and Shahak, my Israeli friends from Guilin, who were a day ahead of me in getting here. Yesterday's highlight by far, and the inspiration for the title of this post, was the rock 'n roll gig that Shahak and I performed at one of the local bars last night. Shahak played well enough the night before my arrival that the bar's owner asked him to come back again for a second night. Shahak needed a singer, and I am generally comfortable with the classic rock set he played--Sweet Child o' Mine (an octave lower than the GNR version), Purple Haze, Ring of Fire, House of the Rising Sun, Hey Jude, and a few others--so it actually worked pretty well. Shahak's solos easily covered me when I forgot the lyrics, and we even got free beers for our efforts. Friendly crowd, too; I think they just appreciated a Western presence. We've got another gig tonight.
***
This morning, I rented a bike to explore the countryside west of town. Absolutely stunning. Rice fields, more karst formations, and an overcast sky that created a surreal, "Gorillas in the Mist" sort of backdrop. (I really do need to get my photos saved somehow. Easier said than done: There are no English program icons / commands on these computers).
The Yangshuo cooking class I signed up for begins in about an hour. The region is known for its fried noodles and "beer fish" (duck, etc.). Everything I've had so far has been pretty good, so I'm looking forward to learning how it's done.
And while I'm on food: At night, when everyone hits up the bars, tons of street-side BBQ stands open up for business. Chicken, beef, whole fishes, squid, and other mystery meats are skewered and cooked over charcoal, and everything is super-cheap. It sounds (and for the most part looks) like similar setups you'd find all over New York City. But here, nothing is refrigerated; the raw meat just sits there in the steamy heat. The end product looks pretty tasty, but I'm still afraid to put my Western stomach to the test.
***
I'm off to Nanning tomorrow morning, and will be in northern Vietnam by Tuesday afternoon if my visa suffers no delays. (Typing that sentence seems to be remarkable commentary on how far we've come in the last 35 years).
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
On the Mainland (Guilin, China)
Monday ended up being a rainy day in Hong Kong, so I decided to take the train to Guangzhou. I arrived about two hours after leaving Kowloon, and got to the station in Guangzhou without any idea of where to go next. (In retrospect, I should've taken the next train to some other city, because Guangzhou had very little to offer--it's a large, industrial city located in an industrial province. The city is gray and foreboding, and there's not a speck of English spoken anywhere (save the train station)).
At the station exit, there were several "Information" desks with lots of people pitching hotels and taxis. I needed both. I settled on one of the lower cost options, and then expected the young woman with whom I was speaking to help get me into a taxi and send me on my way. Instead, she and another young woman got into a car (not a taxi) with me, and took me to the hotel. This was necessary, it became apparent, so that they could negotiate the price with the hotel attendant. I paid about half of what the posted price was at the hotel, and paid nothing for the ride over, so it seemed to be a decent deal.
***
After less than 24 hours in Guangzhou, I made for Guilin, a much more tourist-friendly spot. I expected to take a 10-hour bus to get here, but after I said the phrase for "bus station" to the cab driver, he took me to an express bus heading straight to the airport. Fair enough, flying is quicker.
The ticket cost about US$45, half of what my Lonely Planet Southwest China guidebook quoted, and saved me a half day of traveling. I was in Guilin by noon; the process couldn't have been easier.
***
For all the ways in which I found Guangzhou lacking, Guilin has more than delivered. This is a great spot. I spent yesterday, my first (half) day here, exploring by foot. It's a clean, well laid-out city with tons of restaurants and shops in the city center, which is pedestrian-only, and plenty of great sites in the surrounding area.
I had a quick lunch after checking into a hostel. The waitress handed me a menu and immediately pointed to the beef and broccoli lunch special. It was good.
After lunch, I went to Shan Lake, which connects to the Li River, the main waterway bisecting the city. Adjacent to the waterfront is a long, idyllic, peaceful walkway--better than any other such place I've ever seen--complete with trees and flowers in full bloom. It reminded me of the carousel scene in the movie "Mary Poppins." I took some great pictures, which (again) I'll have to figure out how to upload at some point in the future.
Later, I walked to the Solitary Beauty Peak, an abrupt rock karst overlooking Guilin. The Peak is encompassed by the Jingjiang Prince City, a complex of temples and palaces built in the 14th century which at one point housed the Guangxi (provincial) government. I tried to jump in with some of the tour groups exploring the buildings (there are lots of inscriptions, paintings, and other art inside), but didn't get much out of doing this--everything was in Chinese.
So I climbed the stairs to the top of the Peak instead. It's tall enough (about 500 feet) to get a 360-degree view of Guilin and the city outskirts. And I took more great pictures.
In the evening, I met some fellow travelers in the lobby of the hostel: two Israelis, Uri and Shahak, who just finished their mandatory military service, and a Brit, Vince. After beers and dinner, the four of us came back to the hostel, drank more beers, and sang songs while Shahak played the guitar. (He's an excellent player; he brought the guitar along for his entire 6-month trip).
We also talked Israeli politics. I mentioned that my dad spent almost two weeks in training with the Israeli Defense Forces a couple of years ago. (I like telling people that his experience will forever corroborate our family's pro-Israel leanings). I noted Shahak's passion especially--he consistently referred to Israel by using 3rd-person feminine pronouns: "After she is attacked 7,000 times, Israel has the right to defend herself!"
***
Today (I'm writing at about 6 PM on Wednesday), I rented a bicycle to see the rest of Guilin. (It takes a solid two days to see everything here).
Part of the purpose of this trip is to experience new and uncomfortable things. I would probably never ride a bike on the streets of New York, but here it's a great way to get around. Guilin is generally pretty biker-friendly, but you do have to pay attention. I just tried to stay with the flow of other cyclists (bicycles, scooters, and motorcycles) and avoid cars as much as possible.
I rode about a mile northwest of town to the Seven Stars Scenic Area, which includes Qixin Temple, the Seven Stars Caves, and the surrounding grounds. I lucked out and got my own English-speaking guide, Richard (I couldn't spell his Chinese name), for the entire tour. Among the pictures I took, I got a few with me holding a pair of monkeys that would do kung-fu poses upon their master's command. Awesome.
Tomorrow, I'm planning to take a boatride down the Li River to my next destination, Yangshuo. I'll spend a day there and then will head farther south to Nanning, one of only two cities where I can get a Vietnamese visa before leaving China (without backtracking, that is). Until next time...
At the station exit, there were several "Information" desks with lots of people pitching hotels and taxis. I needed both. I settled on one of the lower cost options, and then expected the young woman with whom I was speaking to help get me into a taxi and send me on my way. Instead, she and another young woman got into a car (not a taxi) with me, and took me to the hotel. This was necessary, it became apparent, so that they could negotiate the price with the hotel attendant. I paid about half of what the posted price was at the hotel, and paid nothing for the ride over, so it seemed to be a decent deal.
***
After less than 24 hours in Guangzhou, I made for Guilin, a much more tourist-friendly spot. I expected to take a 10-hour bus to get here, but after I said the phrase for "bus station" to the cab driver, he took me to an express bus heading straight to the airport. Fair enough, flying is quicker.
The ticket cost about US$45, half of what my Lonely Planet Southwest China guidebook quoted, and saved me a half day of traveling. I was in Guilin by noon; the process couldn't have been easier.
***
For all the ways in which I found Guangzhou lacking, Guilin has more than delivered. This is a great spot. I spent yesterday, my first (half) day here, exploring by foot. It's a clean, well laid-out city with tons of restaurants and shops in the city center, which is pedestrian-only, and plenty of great sites in the surrounding area.
I had a quick lunch after checking into a hostel. The waitress handed me a menu and immediately pointed to the beef and broccoli lunch special. It was good.
After lunch, I went to Shan Lake, which connects to the Li River, the main waterway bisecting the city. Adjacent to the waterfront is a long, idyllic, peaceful walkway--better than any other such place I've ever seen--complete with trees and flowers in full bloom. It reminded me of the carousel scene in the movie "Mary Poppins." I took some great pictures, which (again) I'll have to figure out how to upload at some point in the future.
Later, I walked to the Solitary Beauty Peak, an abrupt rock karst overlooking Guilin. The Peak is encompassed by the Jingjiang Prince City, a complex of temples and palaces built in the 14th century which at one point housed the Guangxi (provincial) government. I tried to jump in with some of the tour groups exploring the buildings (there are lots of inscriptions, paintings, and other art inside), but didn't get much out of doing this--everything was in Chinese.
So I climbed the stairs to the top of the Peak instead. It's tall enough (about 500 feet) to get a 360-degree view of Guilin and the city outskirts. And I took more great pictures.
In the evening, I met some fellow travelers in the lobby of the hostel: two Israelis, Uri and Shahak, who just finished their mandatory military service, and a Brit, Vince. After beers and dinner, the four of us came back to the hostel, drank more beers, and sang songs while Shahak played the guitar. (He's an excellent player; he brought the guitar along for his entire 6-month trip).
We also talked Israeli politics. I mentioned that my dad spent almost two weeks in training with the Israeli Defense Forces a couple of years ago. (I like telling people that his experience will forever corroborate our family's pro-Israel leanings). I noted Shahak's passion especially--he consistently referred to Israel by using 3rd-person feminine pronouns: "After she is attacked 7,000 times, Israel has the right to defend herself!"
***
Today (I'm writing at about 6 PM on Wednesday), I rented a bicycle to see the rest of Guilin. (It takes a solid two days to see everything here).
Part of the purpose of this trip is to experience new and uncomfortable things. I would probably never ride a bike on the streets of New York, but here it's a great way to get around. Guilin is generally pretty biker-friendly, but you do have to pay attention. I just tried to stay with the flow of other cyclists (bicycles, scooters, and motorcycles) and avoid cars as much as possible.
I rode about a mile northwest of town to the Seven Stars Scenic Area, which includes Qixin Temple, the Seven Stars Caves, and the surrounding grounds. I lucked out and got my own English-speaking guide, Richard (I couldn't spell his Chinese name), for the entire tour. Among the pictures I took, I got a few with me holding a pair of monkeys that would do kung-fu poses upon their master's command. Awesome.
Tomorrow, I'm planning to take a boatride down the Li River to my next destination, Yangshuo. I'll spend a day there and then will head farther south to Nanning, one of only two cities where I can get a Vietnamese visa before leaving China (without backtracking, that is). Until next time...
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Arrival (Hong Kong)
(Note: Since I can't read Chinese characters, I've had some issues with uploading the latest post. Hopefully the substance remains clear, even without the bells and whistles--including, for instance, pictures).
***
More than 15 hours after leaving JFK, I arrived in Hong Kong. I've found HK to be a perfect launch point for the rest of my trip: Its qualities as the world's consummate 'East meets West' location (it's not a city, technically, but a "Special Administrative Region"--located in Southern China but not part of the Mainland) have made for a smooth transition to Asian culture.
We're 12 hours ahead of New York. I've never been able to sleep on planes, and so I arrived feeling as though I'd just pulled an all-nighter--heavy legs, slight headache, dry and puffy eyes. Staying up and going out that first night was the best way, however, to fight through my jet lag. Ultimately, it took me about 16 hours--two-thirds of a day--to adjust my internal clock to the new time zone.
Through my expat friends Yuzhen and Trammel, I've learned a lot about HK's (large) expat community--comprising mostly Americans, Brits and Australians in their mid- to late 20s, working in finance or for firms with some degree of global operations. "Transient" is their predominant, collective self-description: Groups of friends are constantly in flux, coming and going (though now mostly going, as people are losing jobs here, too) all the time. They're a fun crew, and everyone seems to know everyone else. I'm not convinced I could live here, though; the obvious impermanence of such an existence would be discouraging. One could make the same point about New York, of course, especially since I'm not from there. But with friends from college, work, church and other networks around, I do feel like I'm a lot more rooted in New York than just about anywhere else.
Saturday, my first full day in HK, was busy: After breakfast, Trammel and I took the tram to Victoria Peak, which overlooks the HK skyline. We hiked down most of the way to get back to Central district. (It's worth noting here that a cool feature of HK is the natural reserve / greenery embedded in the urban geography. The downside is that many streets are extremely steep--especially those in Central district, which is close to the peak--and require real effort when walking). After this, I went bowling, played squash, napped, went to dinner (see comments below), and partied until about 3 AM.
Today, I set out to explore more of life in HK. I walked down to the waterfront, and along the way saw legions of what I learned were filipino housekeepers (they work for wealthy HK families and have Sundays off) enjoying their own version of "Sunday Funday"--sitting together in makeshift cardboard "shelters," doing each other's hair, eating KFC, and generally having a grand time. After this, I took the train to Kowloon, which is just across Victoria Bay from HK proper. There's a great waterfront area in Kowloon where I tried to take some panoramic pictures of the HK skyline, but even on a sunny day like today, the constant haze hanging over the buildings prevented me from getting any clear shots. It's partly pollution, partly water vapor, but disappointing either way. Kowloon also boasts HK's "Avenue of the Stars," and I was able to pay homage to both Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee, HK cinema's two uber-celebrities and favorite sons.
Briefly, I've noticed an interesting dynamic related to automobile ownership in HK: Since a) there is a distinct cab culture in HK which rivals New York's in terms of reasonableness and ubiquity, and b) the government marks up the price of cars by at least, and usually more than, 100%, owning a car is unnecessary and / or prohibitively expensive. Merely owning one is a huge status symbol. Furthermore, of the cars you do see, a disproportionate number tend to be high-end (Mercedes, BMW) or ultra high-end (Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maserati, and so on). Unlike in many (usually mainline Protestant) circles in the U.S., there seem to be no societal checks on Western-style ostentation in HK. Those who have, flaunt. I can only imagine what it was like during the bygone days of blistering economic expansion here and in the rest of Asia.
A few notes about what I've eaten (I'll continue to devote special attention to my gastronomic experiences throughout the trip):
First, it's obvious that HK is not representative of what I'm sure to encounter in other countries. This is a first-world, expensive place to live and visit, and more or less on par with what I'd find back home. And yes, you can drink the water.
On Friday, Yuzhen, two others, and I ate Chinese food at Shui Hu Ju, only a few steps away from where I was staying (Trammel's apartment). Yuzhen said the restaurant got great reviews, but she was somewhat disappointed with our meal--a reflection of the food snobbery entitled to any resident. I came away with a higher opinion. Everything we had seemed fresher and less greasy than what's typical for the New York delivery circuit, though I did think that flavors overall could've been bolder or spicier where appropriate. Highlights included steamed French beans with garlic, noodles with a hot chili / peanut sauce, and sauteed prawns with coriander. Dinner, including alcohol, came out to about US$45 per person.
Saturday, my second night in HK, Yuzhen arranged for 18 of her expat buddies (including me) to have a multi-course French dinner in a "private kitchen" in Wanchai district. It was BYO--virtually always a great feature. Dinner was a good time, but I gave the food itself average marks. Everything was classic French, with no Asian influence whatsoever: I had a green salad, crab bisque, sorbet (cleanses the palate between courses), magret of duck with orange sauce, spinach & mushroom gratin, and creme brulee for dessert. No individual dish stood out, though eventually that didn't matter, as the group had finished off the wine by the time we were halfway through our entrees. Luckily, someone brought a case of beer for backup. Altogether, cost was totally reasonable--about US$70 per person, including booze.
***
I haven't yet decided whether to spend one more day in HK or head into Mainland China tomorrow. I haven't arranged to stay anywhere once I move on to the next spot; I wonder if I should feel nervous about that.
***
More than 15 hours after leaving JFK, I arrived in Hong Kong. I've found HK to be a perfect launch point for the rest of my trip: Its qualities as the world's consummate 'East meets West' location (it's not a city, technically, but a "Special Administrative Region"--located in Southern China but not part of the Mainland) have made for a smooth transition to Asian culture.
We're 12 hours ahead of New York. I've never been able to sleep on planes, and so I arrived feeling as though I'd just pulled an all-nighter--heavy legs, slight headache, dry and puffy eyes. Staying up and going out that first night was the best way, however, to fight through my jet lag. Ultimately, it took me about 16 hours--two-thirds of a day--to adjust my internal clock to the new time zone.
Through my expat friends Yuzhen and Trammel, I've learned a lot about HK's (large) expat community--comprising mostly Americans, Brits and Australians in their mid- to late 20s, working in finance or for firms with some degree of global operations. "Transient" is their predominant, collective self-description: Groups of friends are constantly in flux, coming and going (though now mostly going, as people are losing jobs here, too) all the time. They're a fun crew, and everyone seems to know everyone else. I'm not convinced I could live here, though; the obvious impermanence of such an existence would be discouraging. One could make the same point about New York, of course, especially since I'm not from there. But with friends from college, work, church and other networks around, I do feel like I'm a lot more rooted in New York than just about anywhere else.
Saturday, my first full day in HK, was busy: After breakfast, Trammel and I took the tram to Victoria Peak, which overlooks the HK skyline. We hiked down most of the way to get back to Central district. (It's worth noting here that a cool feature of HK is the natural reserve / greenery embedded in the urban geography. The downside is that many streets are extremely steep--especially those in Central district, which is close to the peak--and require real effort when walking). After this, I went bowling, played squash, napped, went to dinner (see comments below), and partied until about 3 AM.
Today, I set out to explore more of life in HK. I walked down to the waterfront, and along the way saw legions of what I learned were filipino housekeepers (they work for wealthy HK families and have Sundays off) enjoying their own version of "Sunday Funday"--sitting together in makeshift cardboard "shelters," doing each other's hair, eating KFC, and generally having a grand time. After this, I took the train to Kowloon, which is just across Victoria Bay from HK proper. There's a great waterfront area in Kowloon where I tried to take some panoramic pictures of the HK skyline, but even on a sunny day like today, the constant haze hanging over the buildings prevented me from getting any clear shots. It's partly pollution, partly water vapor, but disappointing either way. Kowloon also boasts HK's "Avenue of the Stars," and I was able to pay homage to both Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee, HK cinema's two uber-celebrities and favorite sons.
Briefly, I've noticed an interesting dynamic related to automobile ownership in HK: Since a) there is a distinct cab culture in HK which rivals New York's in terms of reasonableness and ubiquity, and b) the government marks up the price of cars by at least, and usually more than, 100%, owning a car is unnecessary and / or prohibitively expensive. Merely owning one is a huge status symbol. Furthermore, of the cars you do see, a disproportionate number tend to be high-end (Mercedes, BMW) or ultra high-end (Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maserati, and so on). Unlike in many (usually mainline Protestant) circles in the U.S., there seem to be no societal checks on Western-style ostentation in HK. Those who have, flaunt. I can only imagine what it was like during the bygone days of blistering economic expansion here and in the rest of Asia.
A few notes about what I've eaten (I'll continue to devote special attention to my gastronomic experiences throughout the trip):
First, it's obvious that HK is not representative of what I'm sure to encounter in other countries. This is a first-world, expensive place to live and visit, and more or less on par with what I'd find back home. And yes, you can drink the water.
On Friday, Yuzhen, two others, and I ate Chinese food at Shui Hu Ju, only a few steps away from where I was staying (Trammel's apartment). Yuzhen said the restaurant got great reviews, but she was somewhat disappointed with our meal--a reflection of the food snobbery entitled to any resident. I came away with a higher opinion. Everything we had seemed fresher and less greasy than what's typical for the New York delivery circuit, though I did think that flavors overall could've been bolder or spicier where appropriate. Highlights included steamed French beans with garlic, noodles with a hot chili / peanut sauce, and sauteed prawns with coriander. Dinner, including alcohol, came out to about US$45 per person.
Saturday, my second night in HK, Yuzhen arranged for 18 of her expat buddies (including me) to have a multi-course French dinner in a "private kitchen" in Wanchai district. It was BYO--virtually always a great feature. Dinner was a good time, but I gave the food itself average marks. Everything was classic French, with no Asian influence whatsoever: I had a green salad, crab bisque, sorbet (cleanses the palate between courses), magret of duck with orange sauce, spinach & mushroom gratin, and creme brulee for dessert. No individual dish stood out, though eventually that didn't matter, as the group had finished off the wine by the time we were halfway through our entrees. Luckily, someone brought a case of beer for backup. Altogether, cost was totally reasonable--about US$70 per person, including booze.
***
I haven't yet decided whether to spend one more day in HK or head into Mainland China tomorrow. I haven't arranged to stay anywhere once I move on to the next spot; I wonder if I should feel nervous about that.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Some Thoughts before the Trip (New York, USA)
Ten days until takeoff.
The sky is bright blue outside my apartment, but it's still too cold to do anything fun. Early spring cabin fever it is.
I will fly to Hong Kong next Thursday, spend the weekend with some friends, and then backpack around the region: Southern China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, Malaysia, and Singapore. I've purposely not created an itinerary beyond this broad outline--I'd rather maintain some flexibility with my plans once I get there. I just have to be back in HK before May 16th.
I originally planned a budget of around $3,000 for the entire six weeks. Having spent some $1,600 already--roundtrip flight to HK ($850, which is cheap), immunizations ($230), a double-entry Chinese visa ($130), guide books ($50), travel insurance ($150), and some random backpacking items ($200)--that ain't gonna happen. Not even close. I also fully intend to fork over the $500 it takes to get a couple of bespoke suits from a decent Vietnamese tailor (as my roommate would say, if you don't spend the $500, you're practically losing money). Luckily, despite my long-term concern for the dollar's strength (politics aside), the global 'flight to quality' appears to be holding in my favor for now. Beyond infrequent luxuries like tailored suits, I should be able to live very cheaply once I'm in Asia. (Small comfort in light of my Iceland trip two years ago, around the time the krona reached its all-time peak versus $USD).
Besides adding stamps to my passport, I do have a few goals for this trip:
- Not to shave the entire time
- Not to think about jobs or grad school (I still have no idea where I'll be this fall).
- Eat everything offered to me (Ciprofloxacin tablets? Check.)
- Haggle with local merchants to reduce the price of everything
- Practice whatever's left of my French abilities (I understand that the older Indochinois still speak it).
But for the date on my plane ticket, I could leave tomorrow. I'm antsy to begin the meticulous ritual of packing a backpack (under 50 lbs, properly distributed), but I will hold off until next week. It makes sense to do one more load of laundry first.
The sky is bright blue outside my apartment, but it's still too cold to do anything fun. Early spring cabin fever it is.
I will fly to Hong Kong next Thursday, spend the weekend with some friends, and then backpack around the region: Southern China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, Malaysia, and Singapore. I've purposely not created an itinerary beyond this broad outline--I'd rather maintain some flexibility with my plans once I get there. I just have to be back in HK before May 16th.
I originally planned a budget of around $3,000 for the entire six weeks. Having spent some $1,600 already--roundtrip flight to HK ($850, which is cheap), immunizations ($230), a double-entry Chinese visa ($130), guide books ($50), travel insurance ($150), and some random backpacking items ($200)--that ain't gonna happen. Not even close. I also fully intend to fork over the $500 it takes to get a couple of bespoke suits from a decent Vietnamese tailor (as my roommate would say, if you don't spend the $500, you're practically losing money). Luckily, despite my long-term concern for the dollar's strength (politics aside), the global 'flight to quality' appears to be holding in my favor for now. Beyond infrequent luxuries like tailored suits, I should be able to live very cheaply once I'm in Asia. (Small comfort in light of my Iceland trip two years ago, around the time the krona reached its all-time peak versus $USD).
Besides adding stamps to my passport, I do have a few goals for this trip:
- Not to shave the entire time
- Not to think about jobs or grad school (I still have no idea where I'll be this fall).
- Eat everything offered to me (Ciprofloxacin tablets? Check.)
- Haggle with local merchants to reduce the price of everything
- Practice whatever's left of my French abilities (I understand that the older Indochinois still speak it).
But for the date on my plane ticket, I could leave tomorrow. I'm antsy to begin the meticulous ritual of packing a backpack (under 50 lbs, properly distributed), but I will hold off until next week. It makes sense to do one more load of laundry first.
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