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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)