Six AM Sauna

We landed at BKK, again enjoying the nice view provided by the air-cam at the front of the plane that provided the pilot's perspective, and as we taxied to the terminal, the first rays of dawn were peaking over the horizon. I passed through passport control without a hitch, and discovered that my bag had indeed successfully made it to BKK.

I was waived through customs while people coming off a plane from India were targeted to have their bags run through an x-ray machine for futher inspection. At BKK, sometimes the contraband smuggled through is capable of biting back--BKK routinely busts people smuggling illegal wildlife through the airport that somehow got past the security screeners at the originating airport.

The scams/tourist solicitations at BKK are mild in comparison to other airports--the only group that actively solicits you is an over-priced airport run limousine service with offices in the baggage claim area. Considering there are plenty of other options, its best to ignore them and head to either the newly built train to the city center, express buses or even cabs. Cabs in Bangkok are a relative bargain provided you make sure they turn on the meter--which is not usually a problem--and the meter is pegged to distance traveled. And the process of getting a cab at the airport is simple--you write your address on a piece of paper, and give it to the officer in charge, and she fills out a form, and gives it to a cab driver. Quick, easy, and painless.

I knew it was going to be humid in Bangkok, and had mentally prepared myself for it. But I forgot just how bad the humidity was--as soon as I stepped out of the terminal it was like I had stepped into a steam room. It was like stepping into a wall--and this was at 6am, no less.

The last time I drove into town from the airport was at night in the midst of a rainstorm, and saw a spectacular scene of sideways rain being illuminated by some of the billboard lights. The drive into town this time was also pretty, as the sunrise gave the area a pinkish glow, with some of the morning mist still hanging around near the ground.

The cab driver kept repeating to himself "Silom, Silom"--and I could only guess what he was thinking--"ooh, big spender going to Silom." Unfortunately, my Thai is limited to about three phrases, and its impossible to have a conversation with anyone when the only phrases you have in common are hello, thank you, and don't worry about it. So, all I could do is sit back and hope to god I was going to the right place--because of printing issues, I forgot the map.

Fortunately, my fears of being taken for a ride were unfounded, as I recognized the various locales as being in the area of my place, and I arrived and check into my temporary residence for the summer--just a short walk away from my office.

The cab ride cost? a very reasonable THB 400 (about 13 bucks).

In comparison, whenever I withdraw money from the ATM, the local banks here, knowing this isn't a local card, charge an absurd THB 150 for the privilege--double what I usually pay in the US.

And what did I do on my first day in the city of angels? Write-on. Seriously. I locked myself in my residence, plugged in my laptop, and twelve hours later, had a rough draft ready to go. It wasn't much fun, but hey, that pretty much describes the life of any professional student (outside of those in adult day care aka biz-school, according to my biz-school attending friend).

In heaven, the chefs are French....and the toilets are Japanese

We arrived at Tokyo-Haneda right on time...but of course, do not get a jetway. Unlike in the US, however, non jetway gates are common and they have these things called stairs that you use to get off a plane--something that could come in handy in the US if lets say all the gates at an airport were busy and a plane was holding on the ground for a couple of hours. But that never happens...

I'm not one to complain about the lack of a jetway--I happen to enjoy the tarmac experience of seeing the various planes up close and personal--its definitely a departure from the norm, at least from the US norm.

Somehow, they managed to cram a 777 economy class worth of people on three airport buses--an exceptional feat, except when you realize that Japan is a country that employs train pushers at rush hour--people that actually push commuters into jampacked trains. I'm assuming that an airport is not the proper place to introduce visitors to a unique cultural custom, but who knows--that wasn't in the case in Vietnam with their airport taxi stand.

For the third time that day, I had to go through airport security--only the Japanese manage to somehow make it bearable and non-stress inducing. Seriously. The screeners are polite, they help you with your stuff, and if you happen to have a little water left over in your water bottle they don't make you pour it out--instead, they pour it out themselves into a special container for whatever reason.

It was at Haneda that I first encountered Japan's technological coup-de-grace--their toilets. I'm serious. Japanese toilets are simply awesome, even in an airport. Seats are heated, there are different levels/intensity of flushes, and there are even built in deodorizers. It is truly a throne, fit for a king. You know that old joke that in heaven, the trains are Swiss, the chefs are French, the policemen are British...? Well, add "the toilets are Japanese" to that list. I can only suggest a possible slogan for all potential Japanese toilet salesmen: "A can is just a can, unless it comes from Japan." See, catchy!

For as technologically advanced as Japan is, the one thing Haneda lacked was outlets for me to recharge my laptop. Fortunately, they have a paid lounge, and for the low low price of 1,000 yen--aka 13 bucks, I was able to use a common use lounge with all you can drink non-alcoholic beverages, comfortable seating, outlets, and free wifi--and was actually able to get some work done too during a 2.5 hour layover. Easily the best 13 bucks i've ever spent.

The Japanese emphasis on order stands as a contrast to other East Asian cultures--namely the Chinese and the Vietnamese, which seem to treat chaos like a prized cultural value--while getting in line to board my red-eye to Bangkok I had elderly retirees insist that I go before them in line, even after I deferred, conveying the universal "no...you first" gesture. Once on board, the lady sitting in front of the empty seat next to me actually asked if it was okay if she leaned her seat back--a first for me. On both flights, the flight attendants warned of turbulence, which either didn't happen, or was mild in comparison to the turbulence my flight to SFO experienced over the front range of the Rockies. For those interested, however, I only experienced turbulence when my plane was to the east of Shikoku, and while we were over Taiwan--in a place identical to where my Cathay flight back home was buffeted.

The good news for my parents is that that money that went in part to Japanese lessons through my school's tuition generated at least some return--I can now say thank you very much with the best of them--when one flight attendant heard my response, her face brightened and asked if I could speak Japanese in Japanese--a question met with disappointment when I looked at her like I had no clue what she was saying.

I tried to sleep, but I was too well-rested from the earlier flight to manage much--and the legroom generally wasn't that great either. At least the cabin was cooler!

Another note: it is remarkable just how dark and undeveloped Laos and inland Vietnam is. We flew right over both countries, and there was absolutely no illumination to be seen--it was identical to flying over water.

A tale of three different airlines...and a windowless window seat

One airline I had no status on, one airline I did have status on, a third I had status on through airline number 2 since airline number 3 and airline number 2 are in the same alliance. Guess which travel experience was best?


Airline number 1.


Airline number 1 was AirTran, the airline I took between Baltimore and Portland to join my family from my brother's graduation, picked mainly because even combined with all the expected fees of checked luggage and necessary shuttle transport to the airport, the one-way fare was less than half that of the one way fare between National (I refuse to call it Reagan) or Dulles and Portland. SuperShuttle was prompt picking me up at the crack of dawn from my dorm, and it was an absolutely beautiful day with traffic not being an issue on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway (which is what I feared because it was Preakness). Having to check two bags at the counter, I was prepared to shell out around 50 bucks--but the check-in lady offered me an upgrade. I initially declined, thinking this was just a way for AirTran to get more money out of me, but she pointed out that I would actually save two bucks by upgrading, and get a better seat. I know it was only two bucks, but its the concept--an airline trying to save you money!--I looked like your average student traveller, and she could have potentially saved the upgrade offer for someone more likely to be a repeat customer, but she didn't, and I got lucky. In general, the whole travel experience that day was actually quite nice (except for the whole factor of flying up to Maine--"everywhere else is sunny, but you're going to Portland!") and I wouldn't hesitate to fly AirTran again.

Airline #2 was American from Boston to DFW. American is barely eking it out in the US domestic market, and have cut back quite a bit on their point to point offerings. While every other major US airline, except for US Airways, is trying to reimagine its identity and product, American's just seems stale by comparison. It doesn't help that they manage to make it difficult for their best customers--at Logan, no signage indicating where "priority access" check-in was, and the whole airport set-up was just a mess. Now, some would argue that they should reserve status based only on miles flown, and not based on usage of a mileage-linked credit card, but that ignores a crucial point: these credit card deals bring in a reliable stream of revenue to the airlines--the credit card companies buy the miles from the airlines to offer them to their customers. Realistically, as the mileage programs evolve, you'll see more of a linkage between fare paid and mileage traveled in order for the airlines to recognize and reward their best customers.


Airline#3 was American and JAL from DFW to Bangkok. Of course, I was running a little bit late, and needed to check bags, and had to use one of the airline counters. American, though, has eliminated any service counters from the lower half of Terminal D except self-service--with no exterior signage to indicate this. Which meant schlepping my bags halfway through the terminal to get to a full service desk. At this point, American isn't even trying--I mean, the guy who helped me out was nice enough, but it would have been nicer if I could have just gone straight from the car to the check-in desk, and not have to have backtrack. DFW's AA's largest hub, so it's not like they have any shortage of staff lying around. It didn't help that because I didn't have priority access on my boarding pass, the guy at security initially refused to let me use the priority line even though I showed him my status card that gave me the privilege of doing so. He relents, and I make myself look like a fool when my empty water bottle falls out of my backpack, making all sorts of noise.

The flight from DFW to SFO was nice enough, and was relatively scenic, even if I was too busy working on school-related stuff to notice. Flew right over the grand canyon, las vegas, nevada, the Sierra Nevadas, Yosemite, and Mono Lake before landing over the bay in San Francisco. Flying into California in the daylight never gets old because of how spectacular the landscape of the American West is, with the mountains serving as visual gate signifying the beginning of California. It was simply a glorious, beautiful day in the Bay area, and its too bad I didn't have the chance to enjoy it.

The highlight or, should I say, lowlight, of the flight was not the constantly screaming toddler that didn't stop even after we landed and were getting off the plane, but one of the flight attendants making a rather politically incorrect comment revealing the 757's nickname among AA flight attendants--not in the galley, but while doing the drink service in front of other customers. Just another reason why maybe a trip to Chapter 11 might do AA some good--the product is stale and there's no sense of innovation at all by the airline. I'd much rather them try and experiment with certain offerings to differentiate themselves from the rest of the majors, especially with the rise of new pseudo-LCC's like JetBlue and Virgin America, that sell you both on low fares and in flight experience.



SFO's a nice airport--its just a royal pain to transfer with no airside intraterminal transport, and AA's recent terminal transfer has made a long walk to the international terminal to connect with its oneworld partners even longer. I'm not even sure there is any intraterminal transport.

And for the second time that day, I was forced to get body-scanned by the TSA. At least the guy examining my ID was doing his job though--commenting that my hair color had changed and asked me for my last name. Concessions and the like post security in the international terminal are also relatively bare and uninspiring, but at least the floors were clean (or at least clean enough to sit on) and I was able to sit on the floor and recharge my laptop while abusing their free wifi--which they claimed only lasted for 45 minutes, but only reset after that time period--and I actually got some work done!

The JAL staff were nice enough--as I wanted to change my seat from a window to the aisle, since I figured I'd be trying to get some work done, and wanted to be awake. Not only did I get a window, I also got an exit row window which sounded great.... until I boarded the 777 and discovered that the "window" was the cabin wall (is a window seat really a window when there isn't one next to the seat?)

The windowless window seat was an omen of things to come on this flight--things that on paper sounded great, but in reality, failed to deliver, or had some negative side effect. Nothing service-wise or non-safety related seemed to go right on this flight:
--some of the promised extra legroom was hampered by the inward bulk of the cabin door and my feet had to be slanted
--the advertised seat power outlet for me to plug my laptop into did not exist
--unlike most flights, where the cabin is usually cool, this was easily the hottest I'd ever been on a flight--it felt like I was stuck sitting in my late grandfather's living room for eight hours, with no escape, and I sweated more than I ever have before on a plane
--JAL has AVOD--not as great as Cathay Pacific's, but still AVOD! Except my screen, because of the exit row, was stuck in the armrest area, and was impossible to get out!
--because I was next to the galley I got my first choice of meal! Except that the meal service started just as I started to get into a rhythm on write-on work...and I had to put my laptop away. And once I was finished, the meal sat there, and sat there, and sat there...it easily took an hour after service was started for them pickup the long finished meal trays---and since I was unable to use my personal AVOD, I effectively sat there for an hour with a useless tray on my tray table--bored out of my mind and sweating
--booze on JAL is free! Except in my case, they gave me enough to knock me out twice (even though i only asked for one drink with dinner), and render me well-rested.
--Except I didn't want to rest on this flight--I wanted to get work done, and get my body adjusted to the time--I only wanted to briefly nap. Whoops!

JAL has just come out of bankruptcy, and that is clear from the shape of their cabin--it looked comparable in wear and tear to the AA757 I had just come off of--and their IFE product. Just about the only thing that separates them from a US carrier at this point is that their flight attendants were nicer, and the booze was free.

At least the takeoff and landing camera underneat the cockpit was cool--giving a pilot's view of the approach and take-off.

Where I am...

I've been swamped with stuff from school, which is why I haven't had as much time to update this blog or explore bangkok as I would have liked, but that will all change next week when that work generally disappears.

I'm essentially in the Central Business District of Bangkok, known as Silom, just across the street from Lumphini Park (BKK's rough equivalent to Central Park or Boston Common)--with easy access to the skytrain and subway system. I am somewhat removed from historical "old bangkok," the touristy sites alongside the river, and the Khao San Road/Banglamphu district.

An interesting note is that while Bangkok doesn't have an easily identifiable downtown area per se, like another sprawling city (Los Angeles), the skyscrapers generally follow a pattern of clustering around the skytrain and metro routes, with the notable outliers being some of the nicer hotels alongside the river that are just south of the royal palace/old quarter area. Just about anything taller than 10 stories or so has been built since 1990, according to my boss, which makes me wonder which came first, the skytrain/metro routes, or the skyscrapers.

The area I am in is heavily commercialized, with the closest Dallas equivalent being roughly the uptown/oak lawn area, but it's hard to make an adequate western comparison, because there are certain features of the area that are unique to Southeast Asia--which I will explain a little bit later. This is an expat-heavy area, as demonstrated by the prevalence of Au Bon Pain--three of which are located within walking distance from me, and one of which is in my office building's lobby. Lots of coffee shops and malls in this area, and some very nice french restaurants as well. Though the lack of lighting at night sometimes takes getting used to in the streets off of the main roads, the area is in fact very safe (as bangkok is as a whole) provided you take the sort of precautions that you would if you were in any big city--ie, guarding against pickpockets and bag snatchers.

Also a sign of a built up area: the local supermarket sells peanut butter and all sorts of western favorites.

The rains are coming....

It's technically the rainy season here in Bangkok, even though the rains haven't yet arrived. They are certainly well on their way, though, as last night the sky was illuminated with flashes of silent lightning (as compared to the storm in Texas the other day, where the lightning was so intense, there was a seemingly perpetual rumble of thunder, and it felt like you were in a photographer's studio). Skies have been growing increasingly dark in the late afternoon as well, and the sidewalk vendors have been prepping to cover their stalls with plastic.
Off to the hospital this morning before work to get my formal work permit checkup--basically, to make sure I don't have any diseases or that I am of a "feeble and unsound mind." Maybe I shouldn't tell them I'm a law student...

Back in Bangkok

I will be reactivating this blog as I am now back in Bangkok, and will be here for two months working for a law firm--and it feels great to be back in Thailand for the third time.
I will also finally get around to posting about my trip to my friend's school in Borneo that I never got around to fully detailing--I know the five of you (aka my aunts and parents) that read this blog have been waiting with baited breath to hear about it. Unfortunately, a little thing called 1L kind of got in the way of me updating this blog during the year.

Random signs along the highway from Dallas to DC

I'm now in DC, about to start law school. I've wrote the last two or three entries on the way up--I just need to type them in. Meanwhile, for some fun:

Fate, 1 mile---Texas--I 30

Ammo Depot, with M16s on the billboard--Texas I-30


Buckaruz Beer Barn--"American Owned"--Texas I-30 (I'm sure international investors are really interested in texas drive thru liquor stores)


Greenville, Texas--a place that my father informs me once had the unofficial motto of "the whitest people and the blackest soil"--denoting its rich farmland and less than progressive racial attitudes


Lone Star Army Ammunition Depot--Texas I-30


"America Return to God"--Arkansas I-30


Unfortunately, the signs got a lot lamer after Texas.


"Caution--unsocialized homeschoolers on board"--car on I-40 Tennessee


"Titanic: A Family Experience"--I40 Billboard Tennessee


"Bad things come in threes. Newcastle comes in sixes"--I40 Billboard Tennessee (so Newcastle is two bad things)

Nathan Bedford Forrest State Park--I40, Tennessee. (Nothing says racial tolerance like having a state park named after the first KKK grand wizard!)

Text Bang to 6247--Fireworks Store advert--I40, Tennessee

Much More than Knives--I-40, Tennessee

Gunrunners--Team Glock--I-40 Tennessee

Congress, you have failed us. Vote out all incumbents this Nov.--I81, Virginia

Missouri license plate that read "Zombies" and had a "McCain/Palin" bumper sticker--I81 Virginia

"I don't smoke" "YOU LIE!!!"

I didn't know whether I would love or hate Saigon--and talking to other travellers along the way didn't help. Vietnam's massive metropolis provoked polarized opinions sharing a common utterance: "crazy." People either thought it was crazy (and loved it) or thought it was crazy (and hated it). There was little in the way of a middle/neutral ground. And the divided opinion transcended traveller type--gap year kids, twentysomethings, 30 year-olds, hardcore partiers, "culture vultures"--for every traveller that loved Saigon, another hated the place with a passion.

I just prepared myself for experiencing "crazy."

"Crazy" perfectly described my first encounter with the former ARVN capital--the previously mentioned taxi "line-up"--and has been a common adjective for foreigners to describe their experience in Saigon ever since the days of American involvement in the Vietnam War. The sudden increase in American soldiers, money, and consumer goods served as a steiroid that turbo-charged the Saigon economy, and created an "anything goes" atmosphere. Stories of Saigon's wartime decadence are practically essential inclusions for every history book discussing the subject of the American involvement in Vietnam.

Driving in from Tan Son Nhat, there were two things that immediately struck me about Saigon: the wide european style streets and boulevards, and the blindingly widespread use of neon lights at night. I definitely wasn't in Hoi An anymore, and I certainly wasn't in Hanoi.

We arrive in Pham Ngu Lao (the cheap hotel area), and look for a place to crash for the night, since it is about 8pm at this point. This is when it helps to be travelling with a buddy or a good friend--one of you can stay with the bags while the other does guesthouse recon. The place we end up going to certainly wasn't the worst I've stayed in, and I would have likely stayed there the entire time I was in Saigon except for one key deal breaker: I had to climb 8 fairly steep flights of stairs to get to my room--as per norm, I hand over my passport to the check-in desk--a move that would end up costing me 11 bucks.

I unload my stuff and have dinner with my rowmates at a nearby place, and, surprise surprise, I see the guy that AJ and I travelled with from Vang Vieng to Luang Prabang and his belgian buddy--again, small world, but not so random when you realize that the twentysomething travellers in this part of the world mainly stick to the same guidebook--the ubiquitous yellow Lonely Planet guide (cheaper and lighter than the cost/weight of 8 individual country guidebooks). I'm polite and friendly, but the guy isn't exactly thrilled to see me for whatever reason, which only supported my belief that there was something "off" about the guy (maybe he thought that my presence ruined his chances with AJ?).

The rowmates go back to their room as they have an early flight to catch for Hong Kong, and since it isn't overly late (about 9) I decide to do some recon and explore the well-lit and heavily trafficked neighborhood for a bit/look for another place to stay.

I finally stumble on a "boutique" hotel less than a 100 yards away on a parallel street to the main road running through the backpackers ghetto--I walk in--ask about the price, but see the price list before I finish my question ($28 for a single). I begin to walk out, apologizing and saying that the price was too high, but before I can, the nice vietnamese lady at the front desk tells me that the rates are basically halved in low season (right now), which means a single would only be $16--five bucks more than where my stuff is currently stashed.

After taking me up the elevator and seeing the room, I start laughing. Elevator? Check. Marble floor? Check. Room that could please a finicky business traveler? Check. For 11 bucks, I could stay in a flea-bag hotel worse than a motel 6. For 16 bucks, I could stay in a place that would easily pass my parents' standards, let alone my own less refined tastes. Of course I will take the room I tell the all too pleased receptionist--and can't wait to get out of the flea-bag place.

About halfway to my old place (along a well lit road lined by open shops and restaurants), a middle aged vietnamese woman dressed in a black halter top, tight blue jeans, and black high heels grabs my hand and asks if I want a massage. I shake loose and tell her no and quicken my pace. How dumb (or desperate) did she think I was? It's not like I was wearing a giant sign proclaiming "I came to Saigon to get chloroformed by a vietnamese street-walker." Lady, save your seduction/date rape attempts for the balding middle-aged europeans that specifically come to SE Asia looking for that kind of thrill. Learn from your Thai peers working Soi Cowboy.

I make it back to my old place, grab my stuff, haul down the stairs (my quads feel like cinderblocks at this point), and ask for my passport back because I am changing hotels. My bags were in that room for barely 90 minutes, so there was no way that I was going to pay full price--especially since it hasn't hit 11pm yet, and there are bound to be some late-night arrivals looking for a place to crash.

They ask why not stay the night here and go to that place tmw morning? Because I found a different hotel, one that I liked more, (I really wanted to say: why stay in a dump when I can stay in a palace? Besides, I was not going to drag my stuff back up 8 flights of stairs). I tell them that I was willing to pay them half the room-rate, since I did use their place for storage, essentially. The guy insists that I pay full-rate because it is after 7pm--I try an appeal to logic explaining why I shouldn't have to pay the full-rate since I was only there for 90 minutes.

The discussion isn't going anywhere, and the hotel had leverage (in the form of my passport), which they were well-aware of, so I fork over the 11 bucks and make my way back to my new digs. Had I just kept my passport, I would have put 6 bucks on the table and walked out.

After being microwaved in the Danang terminal while surrounded by at least 20 vietnamese running amok and exercising their vocal chords to the full extent of their abilities, the harrowing descent into Tan Son Nhat, the non-existent taxi line, an agressive solicitation by a vietnamese street lady, and participating in an impromptu game of passport tug of war with a hotel guest, I was fortunately through with patience-testing events.

Unfortunately, the most disturbing event of the day was yet to come.

Needing a drink, I walked about a block and a half to an area populated by bars oriented towards serving the tourists in the guesthouse heavy area. Along the way, I passed the same aggressive street walker (I guess the neighborhood was her "territory"--I saw her out every night--but business didn't seem to be going so well). I get a drink, join some western expat teachers sitting in the bar provided outdoor lawn chairs, and wave off the usual group of cigarette and tchotchke peddlers. Most take it in stride and move on to the next tourist.

One kid, no more than 8 years old, takes exception. When he offers me a pack of cigarettes, I politely tell him "No, I don't smoke," to which he responds by screaming "YOU LIE!" before moving on.

It's no surprise that there are poor people in Vietnam, and that Saigon would have its fair share of beggars and peddlers, but there was something about this particular boy that stood out. Not since Siem Reap had I experienced this level of anger, frustration, and malice from someone on the street (the incident where two kids held a french tourist hostage by refusing to let go of her bike). It's just something you don't necessarily expect, which is why it both caught me off guard and left me visibly shaken, even though I didn't have anything to be ashamed about.

Honestly, I really don't smoke.

A Trembling Trip into Tan Son Nhat

Scared of flying? Fear the slightest jolt of turbulence? Dread flying into high clouds? Need to change your underwear if you see lightning from your airplane window? If you've answered yes to any of those questions, then try to avoid flying in SE Asia after about 2:30pm, and before 7pm or so (these numbers vary depending on the season). After my ill-advised adventure on Lion Air, my scariest flying experience was from Danang to Saigon.


But I'll get to that in a moment.


I had four realistic options for flying from Hoi An down to Saigon. Now, Hoi An doesn't have an airport, but it is only about 30-45 minute drive to Danang's airport, which is the third or fourth busiest in Vietnam. Either 8 am, noon, 445pm, or 9pm. 8am and 9pm were too early/late respectively, and I wasn't sure that I'd be able to make the noon flight if I had some last minute alterations to get done--so, late-afternoon it was. Hindsight, of course, says I should have taken the noon flight.


So, what did I do with my half-day or so, needing to catch a 3pm cab to the airport?

I hopped on a motorbike and went to Cua Dai beach--the one closest to Hoi An. I would have loved to have been there for sunrise, but I could never get up early enough to go there (a shame, since it would have been spectacular). At around 9 or 10 in the morning, the place was relatively deserted. It was too hot for the Vietnamese, and the western tourists hadn't come out yet, so I largely had the place to myself. Sat on a plastic red chair provided by a drink vendor, and caught up on some reading, and regretted having to leave Hoi An.

Eventually made my way back to Hoi An town around noon or so, and I wandered around Hoi An, looking for some food. Along the way, managed to stumble into a conversation with an American family from Miami who were just passing by on a cruise that started in Singapore and would end up in Seoul--the oldest kid was about to start Boston College, but wanted to go to Georgetown's School of Foreign Service, but was unfortunately turned down.

Stopped in at a local place, and ran into two girls that I had met earlier, so I sat down and ate with them, while drinking a fresh beer--usually that would be a mistake, drinking and flying, but I sure could have used one later on during the flight.

I caught my cab, and was off to go see DAD--Danang's rather unique ICAO airport code. Danang's airport, located smack dab in the middle of Danang, kind of like how La Guardia is in New York, is also the former airfield used by the US and the South Vietnamese during their combat operations during the war. At one point, it was the busiest single runway airport in the world (San Diego's Lindbergh Field now holds that title). Concrete arch-shaped hangars dating from the war days are easily visible from the terminal, as are what appear to be some other war relics in the form of former base buildings that have yet to be torn down, because they are located on the opposite side of the airfield from the passenger terminal.

I'm dropped off and enter the chaos all too prevalent in Vietnamese public facilities. I am cut in line several times, before finally being aggressive and get to the front of the (short) line myself. I make eye contact with the girl behind the check-in desk, which comes in handy, as just as I am ready to present my passport and info, a lady comes out of nowhere and takes my place at the desk. Fortunately, the eye contact comes in handy, as the check-in lady tells the cutter that I was there first and that she has to wait behind me. "Thank god" I thought to myself (which shows you just how little hope I had in terms of this being an orderly operation).

Check in, and enter the secure waiting room area. For whatever reason, even though people are fanning themselves and parking themselves in any sort of shade they can find, the Vietnamese don't seem to realize that drawing the shades on the terminal windows would probably cool off the building tremendously--as it was boiling in there.

Meanwhile, kids are running all over the place, screaming, yelling, and doing god knows what, and I soon find out that my flight has been delayed by about 30 minutes or so. Of course--bad things always happen in threes--annoying kids? check. boiling waiting room? check. delayed flight? check. Fortunately, the annoying kids are all going to Hanoi on the flight that was supposed to leave after us, but is actually leaving before us.

As to be expected, the 30 minute delay turns into an hour delay, which means that the time we board is the time that we are supposed to have been landing at Tan Son Nhat. At this point the weather is clear, but the longer we wait, the increased likelihood of us running into some storms on the way to SGN.

For those of you that were alive in the 60s or are fans of post WWII US History, then the name Tan Son Nhat (or Nhut) should be familiar to you--it was the name of the major air base just on the then-outskirts of Saigon, and at one point was the busiest airport in the world. Though bombed and attacked by the North Vietnamese during the war, post fall of Saigon, the airfield was repaired and restored to its original purpose--serving as Saigon's primary airport--a role which it still fills (albeit for not much longer--it is due to be replaced by a larger airfield in the coming years, but will still be open to domestic flights, similar to how Don Mueang--another airfield used during the Vietnam War--serves Bangkok).

So, in flying from Danang to Saigon, I was flying the former South Vietnamese domestic trunk route, using the exact same airfields (I know, it's nerdy, but if you are an aviation history buff like I am, then it's cool).

We board the aircraft, and I see that Danang is in the process of building a brand new (and much needed) airport terminal to serve as the gateway to the developments being built farther down the shore. Visible from the aircraft are the vertical parentheses shaped concrete hangars lining the terminal that appear to be relics from the 60s/70s. A pair of Vietnam Airlines A330's (one in the skyteam scheme) are parked on the tarmac, indicating the growth of domestic traffic on some popular routes. As we roll down the runway for takeoff, further evidence of the former air base presents itself in the form of old warehouse buildings and bigger hangars.


The first half of the flight passes without incident, and we are treated to a spectacular sunset (a spectacular sunset? in the tropics? nah), as the orange sun passes between the various cloud layers that serve as portholes. Unfortunately, the soundtrack, provided by a middle aged woman hocking loogies behind me, wasn't so spectacular.



We then start passing through the various cloud layers on descent into Tan Son Nhat and it is pitch dark outside as we go through some turbulence.



Minutes later, my worst fears are confirmed. 15 minutes or so from landing, with the lights of Saigon and the surrounding communities visible, lightning begins to illuminate the sky. Looking back, it was indeed an amazing sight, but enjoying a scenic view was the last thing on my mind as I passed through an electrical storm on a giant metal lightning rod. My palms were sweaty and I was freaking out, and the last 15 minutes of the flight seemed to last for an hour. I told my seatmates--a young scottish couple on their way to Hong Kong--that I would get the first round that night if we landed safely.



I knew Tan Son Nhat was an urban airport--similar to La Guardia in that it is surrounded by the city--but nothing can prepare you until you've landed there for the first time. Looking out the window, it seems as if you are going to plow into some apartment buildings. That coupled with the always bumpy approach doesn't make for a very relaxing last few minutes.



We land, and it feels like the pilot has tried to stomp on the runway. Taxi in, past more of the concrete parentheses hangars, and that's when the rain starts to fall. Of course, because I'm a low cost carrier, we don't actually use an airbridge but park on the tarmac and have to take the airstairs--getting wet in the process, but I'm glad to get off the plane, so the rain really doesn't bother me all that much--and take the bus to the domestic terminal past some of the various 777's and A330's being refueled and reloaded for trips further afield. Of course, getting on the bus was a process in and of itself, since there were only two buses for about 150 or so people, and the Vietnamese clustered around the two exits, even though there was plenty of space in the middle, which meant that I had to elbow my way through to the empty space. Getting off the bus wasn't a problem, provided you were capable of some mobility and didn't mind getting getting pushed forward by a surging crowd.

In the U.S., a thunderstorm with visible lightning would be grounds to temporarily close the airport (mainly to protect the ground staff). Not in Vietnam. Airport ops continue as normal. To be fair, though, they probably have a lot more experience in dealing with tropical storms because of the seasonal nature of them (otherwise, they'd have to cancel all flights during the rainy season between 3-8pm--which isn't going to happen).



Hop off the bus and hello baggage claim chaos, or at least what I thought was chaos. Real chaos awaits outside the domestic baggage claim in the form of the "line" for taxis, and by "line" I mean general free-for-all. Taxis pull up and whoever is first to hop in or put their stuff in claims it. Shockingly, this isn't the most efficient process--as demonstrated by the actions of one vietnamese man who sat down in the passenger seat of one taxi, while another guy had just started to put his luggage in the back--the guy in the seat, even though he sat down after the other guy had put one of his bags in the back, refused to budge, and the bag-holder was forced to unload his stuff, and look for another taxi. Thank god I decided to stick with my rowmates and share a taxi into the main cheap hotel area, Pham Ngu Lao, or I would probably still be stuck there.

I would like to think that the taxi situation is a lot more orderly outside the international terminal, considering it is the leading port of entry for foreigners into Vietnam and is served by Lufthansa, Air France, and United, but it could just as easily be a cultural immersion experience as soon as you step off the plane. "Welcome to Vietnam--elbow pads not included."

Sweating like a lineman in two-a-days

It's 845 or so, the mercury is already pushing 35 (or something like that), which means that it is the perfect time (clearly) to climb a mountain.

Well, not really--not unless you count going up a cement staircase "mountain climbing." I have previously mentioned the Marble Mountains in prior posts--they are a group of five or so Karst outcroppings that used to be islands back when the sea level was higher--nowadays, they mark the entrance to China Beach.

On the largest outcropping, there are a whole bunch of temples and lookout points to see, so, with a spare day in hand, I figured, why the hell not?

Hopped on a motorbike, and he took me directly to the place, first stopping to top off the tank with some gas--I was always suspicious when my hired ride would stop off for gas, ready to hop off if they asked for money, since me paying for gas wasn't implied or agreed upon, but this only happened to me once, in Surabaya--and then wisely parked in the covered garage of one of the various handicraft places that cluster the base of the main marble mountain.

If it wasn't for the heat and the humidity, the staircase climb wouldn't have been any big deal--but, as always, H&H makes everything a little more difficult than it should be.

Walk around some of the pagodas, and admire them, but don't really go in--I'm really there for the views of the surrounding countryside.

I walk up to one viewpoint of the beach, and pass a bench...sponsored by Coca Cola. I walk back down, and then walk slightly uphill to a natural open-air cavern that is exposed to the sun, but whose high walls effectively shade the entire area, and provide a welcome respite from the heat.

Seeking a higher vantage point, I climb up a staircase shielded from the heat by various trees and vegetation, and leads up to one of the summits of the marble mountains. After you reach the top of the staircase, you get a better view of the beach, but not so much a 360 panorama. There is another trail leading slightly off of the panoramic viewpoint, but is much more rocky--and is also exposed to the heat. Boulders are clustered in the middle of this narrow path, and the only way to get past them is to climb over them. The boulders are hot to the touch, having been warmed by the heat, and I finally reach a point that I can't go any further, or at least think I can't go any further. I head back down, and see that a vietnamese girl has managed to climb up that same path, which gives me the motivation I need to will myself over a particularly difficult step.

Of course, the path proves to be a path to nowhere--and I have two choices to get down--one, by going down through a narrow passage into a dark cave that some people have climbed out of, or retrace my steps. I decide to retrace my steps back down.

After getting back down, I need to cool off--I'm hot, feel a little bit dehydrated, and my head is starting to hurt a bit. I've also sweated through my white tshirt, and it appears as if I've entered myself in a wet tshirt contest. It was easily the hottest that I've been since the first time I strapped on a football helmet in seventh grade, during my short-lived, ill-advised attempt at being a football player (It was the first day of practice in the late August early afternoon heat, and we weren't in full pads, but we had assumed that the school would be providing water--an assumption that proved disastrous when it was proved wrong, and about 30-35 seventh graders suffered borderline heat exhaustion--I still vividly remember the sweat dripping down from my helmet, stinging my eyes, and making me miserable. I should have quit right then and there).

Shelter and relief comes in the form of a marked up bottle of water and a limestone cave whose moist and cool air is a godsend. My presence in the cave attracts the attention of a group of vietnamese high school students, all of whom are eager to talk to me. I have to admit, as occasionally annoying as the school groups could be in Indonesia, I never actually minded them--it was innocent curiosity, and an eagerness to learn and talk to a foreigner--and I actually came to miss the attention/feeling like a celebrity when I was in Laos and in Vietnam--where that sort of tradition isn't as common. I oblige (again, I wasn't really doing anything other than trying to cool off, and as long as I was able to sit down, I was fine with it), and try to break through the cultural/linguistic barrier to the best of my abilities. When I told them I was from America, not a single one of them batted an eye--they, like myself, were born after the war, and have no memories of it (although, to be fair, I never got a dirty look when I told people I was an American, even from people old enough to have grown up during the war--it seemed that everybody had a relative who lived in the U.S., and were eager to visit the U.S. themselves).

Again, it was a nice and enjoyable moment, one that I probably would not have experienced if I was traveling with somebody else.

After cooling off, I walk to another lookout point, one that faces inland, and I got a great view of the valley/coastal plain that Danang and Hoi An sit on, surrounded by the Annamite mountains on all sides.

I find my motorbike driver back in the shop, and, just for grins decide to walk around and look at all the marble statues and figurines, which the owner swears are handmade. I find that hard to believe, considering how identical all of them are to another. The claim that all are made out of marble is also quite dubious, as the clear plastic shell slightly visible on some figurines demonstrates that at least some of them are made out of hardened plastic. Of course, these hardened plastic ones are the ones that are being pushed by the most by the vendor.

I walk out and have the motorbike driver drop me off by the Hoi An river, and I hire a boat to take me on an hour tour upriver towards a bird sanctuary.

Just like Hue, Hoi An goes from urban to rural in about five minutes, and past the main bridge, the river banks are either lined with the houses and boats of fishermen, or of trees and various other scrubland vegetation. Orange/yellowish fisherman's nets are spread out and mounted on poles, forming a netted canopy over parts of the river for whatever reason. White storks/egrets are also numerous, and their graceful form is spectacular to watch as they glide and skim right over the water, looking for their next meal.

After retreating back to my room to take my version of a siesta, witching hour neared once more--and on my last afternoon/night in Hoi An, this meant one thing: going back to China Beach.

Because of a taller than usual storm front over the mountains, the scene wasn't as spectacular as it was the first time around, and the beach was slightly more crowded. I dipped my toes in the warm South China Sea, and wandered around for one last time, at peace with my surroundings. It was a great setting, but not as spectacular as my first time there.


I headed back to Hoi An, and wandered around the riverfront, hoping to catch the sunset, which due to the aforementioned storm front, wasn't going to happen. That doesn't mean I didn't see something cool, though. As the sun hid behind a tall thunderhead, thanks to some atmospheric phenomenon regarding light refraction, a part of the cloud managed to turn green. At first I didn't believe my eyes, and rubbed them just to make sure I was seeing straight. On second glance, yes the cloud was actually green, and then changed to pink as well. I tried to take a picture, but the color didn't come out as well as I would have liked it.

This wasn't the legendary green flash that sailors often talk about as the sun disappears below the horizon, simply because the sun wasn't below the horizon, but it can probably be explained by someone with a much better scientific background than myself.

Its always a bit of a relief to see examples of foreign kids acting similarly to American kids (or maybe slightly disturbing if we've managed to export the behavior in question, like playing video games all day), but I guess certain traits are global. One global trait is that elementary school aged boys all have a bit of a sadistic streak in them. American kids get that out of their system through the use of magnifying glasses on ants, and easily obtained fire crackers. Vietnamese kids get their kicks by playing with matches--and torturing crabs. I see two Vietnamese boys, none older than 10, sitting on the ground, striking some matches and directing the flame on some small scurrying object, which I discover is a small, penny-sized crab desperately trying to flee.

My last night in Hoi An is spent as expected--at the bar, watching soccer, and talking to people--though I am forced to decline an invitation to stay out later, since my body was physically exhausted, and I had to catch a flight the next day.

Ugly Canadians...I hope

So, later that night, I'm back at the bar hanging out, and I hear a crash and see some commotion. Apparently a customer has caused a waitress to break a glass by hitting her serving tray. No big deal, I think, stuff like that happens all the time.

Well, evidently there was something that I missed because 30 minutes later, the girl that caused the breakage comes up to the bar and demands a gin and tonic (she could have been American or Canadian--as the only distinguishing part of her accent was that it was North American English). Apparently, the waitress refused to serve her (which makes me think that it was more than just an accident, or that this customer had done more than just broken some glass), so she came up to the bar, thinking she would get better service.

The bartenders immediately defer to the manager, who shakes his head and says "no." The girl gets irate and says, "no, I am spending a ton of cash here, and I want my freaking gin and tonic." At this point, all the bar staff and nearly all the wait staff are just standing there, staring at her with blank looks on their faces. The manager explains--she has already broken a couple of glasses, and has apparently been disrespectful to his waitstaff, so, no more for her. She then yells, "you know what? this is bad business. FUCK YOU!" and then storms off.

The manager just shakes his head, his staff have a look of shock on their faces. In SE Asia, the concept of saving face is extremely important--nobody wants to be embarrassed, shamed, or publicly disrespected--and the easiest way to lose face, and burn bridges with the locals observing your behavior, is by losing your cool and getting into a loud verbal argument and otherwise flipping out. While in the west, we might empathize with the person depending on the situation, in the east, you are always supposed to keep smiling while trying to work through the issue at hand, trying to find the best possible solution for both parties.

Admittedly, I'm biased when it comes to this particular scenario --I had prior encounters with both persons involved. I had gotten to know the manager over the course of several nights, and he was a good guy--he wasn't out to get tourists or purposely enrage his customers, and he seemed to be well liked by his staff. I had seen the girl several times--we had stayed at the same hostel in Hanoi, and I had also seen her out and about in Hoi An--she struck me as someone who, to put it politely, liked to have a good time--I don't think I ever saw her without a drink in her hand.

But she screwed herself over when she flipped out and became ultra-demanding. Besides, no matter where you are, you are never going to win an argument when you start throwing around insults. Fortunately, in the several nights I was there, that was the only incident of rude and ugly tourist behavior that I saw.

biking to the beach

Whereas I needed the previous night just to rest up, following my impromptu attempt at being a nature photographer and taking pictures of lightning, I decided to see if I could find a place that was little more lively. Most of the restaurants are laid-back places--places to sit and sip wine. As I've mentioned, I'm not exactly a wine drinker, so I was looking for somewhere a little more bar-ish.

Forunately, as I wander around, I find a bar showing the world cup game that is packed to the gills with orange-clad dutch supporters watching their game against denmark. Fortunately, they have an upstairs area that was pleasantly deserted (which was fine, because I hadn't had dinner yet). I sit by one of the TV screens and end up talking with a guy sitting nearby (somehow, there was a time-lag of about several seconds between the upstairs feed and the downstairs feed, which was made evident by the downstairs screams occurring five seconds after the play in question was broadcast upstairs). Turns out, the guy was not only a Dane who was watching more out of morbid curiosity, but he was also the former manager of the bar, who is in the process of trying to set up his own restaurant in Hoi An. Not only was he the former manager, his girlfriend worked at the bar, which meant that all of the staff were coming over and talking to him.

Now, people in SE Asia tend to be relatively guarded--especially around tourists--but all you need is one "in" or "connection"--even if that connection is someone who literally just met--and the guard drops (to the extent that it can--generally, the culture views reserve as a desired personality trait, which means if someone who you just met is being overly friendly, they want something from you).

That was the same night that I broke two of my "rules"--I had red bull or at least a red bull knockoff (they actually make a sports drink that is red bull flavored gatorade without any of the taurine or whatever they use to give red bull the kick--and yes, red bull flavored gatorade does taste nasty--its called Sponsor, and avoid it at all costs), and I had a whiskey bucket. And yes, it was the same night that I ran into the girl whose family counts Kinky Friedman as a valued customer.

Fortunately, I wasn't planning on doing anything the next day, which was fine because I got to bed late. Of course, I was awakened by the sound of the air conditioner and power switching off in the morning because of the rolling blackouts due to the low water level in the Mekong not generating enough hydroelectricity.

After taking care of some errands, it was the middle of the day. Now, considering how hot and humid it was, I should have just found some nice cafe and rested and relaxed for the rest of the afternoon. That would have required some common sense, though.

Instead, I decided to rent a bike and ride out to a beach that was about 4kms away. I should also mention at this point that the only map I had was a small business card sized map of the city center. I had seen some signs pointing to where the beach was, but I generally had no clue where I was going. I just figured I'd take the road in the direction the sign said and see what would come of it. (Riding bikes and going up stairs are great ways of determining how out of shape you are, and what exactly is wrong with your body. Unsurprisingly, my tweaky left knee was still tweaky as always).

To summarize:

Nearly 100 degree heat with 100% humidity.

Feeling somewhat worn out/ill from the night before, and already sweating like a pig before hopping on a bike.

Having a tweaky left knee that is not up to full strength.

Only having a general idea where I was going--but no real map to speak of.

--and I decide to go anyway.

I'm sure my parents are glad to know that they've raised a kid capable of making such intelligent choices.

For a buck, I get a bike and start heading east on the main road. There's no official tradition of a "siesta" in Vietnam, but there might as well be--the once bustling streets turn eerily quiet between the hours of about 1 and 4pm, and the only people stupid enough to be out and about in the midday heat are tourists. So, I generally have the road to myself, except for other westerners heading that same way. The road isn't all that scenic for the first half--just pass a bunch of stores and various developments, although you do have to go over a couple of creeks--then you pass a river to your right and then are in the ricefields again for a little while as you have to climb over a bridge before finally arriving at the beach--a more crowded, less scenic, more developed China Beach stretch of sand, although with a better view of the Cham Islands.

By the time I arrived at the beach, I was sweating like a pig and decided to find some place to camp out in the shade (with the intention of writing in my journal) for a couple of hours before "witching hour"--as I came to dub the time between 415 and 515pm--approached and it was nice enough to walk around again. I found a shaded restaurant, parked my bike, covered the seat with the scarf I bought in Cambodia, and had a drink.

The nice thing about travelling in SE Asia is that it is pretty easy to strike up a conversation with a fellow tourist, especially if you are both solo. It helps that it is also easy to identify the tourists--they are either the people who don't look asian (read: mostly white people), or, if they are of asian heritage (whether that be korean, japanese, chinese, or asian-american/european), the people who don't dress like the locals. This is a good general rule for everywhere except Singapore, where, for non-asians, add the condition that they are not wearing a suit or any other form of professional attire.

****Social psychology sidetrack (skip if you wish--I have no background in psychology other than two classes, one of which I took credit/d/fail, the other I dropped before it could appear on my transcript, so what appears below is, at best, something approaching brain droppings)

I honestly don't know why it is easier to talk to a stranger and to meet new people on the road than when you are at home. It should be exact opposite: you and a stranger meeting at home are more likely to have shared traits (cultural background, ethnic background, life experience) that should make it easier to find common ground. Of course, the shared background presents its own difficulties: namely, a hierarchy of social rules and customs that govern interactions between two people at home, preconceived stereotypes based on the stranger's behavior and dress, and the realization that the two of you are probably share a common friend or acquaintance. Pigeon-holing while traveling is generally limited to age range and nationality, some of the b.s. rules that govern social interactions back home are thrown out (leaving you only with the essentials), and the chances of you having a shared contact is considerably less. There's also zero pressure, because you are also less likely to continue to run into this person. Of course, the simplest explanation is that people on vacation are just in a better mood and are friendlier than when they are at home. Again, I don't know the answer--the only conclusion I can make is that for whatever reason, people are just more approachable when they are on vacation.

****End social psychology sidetrack

Anyway, as I'm downing water bottle after water bottle to make up for all the sweating I've done, I'm watching some random movie in this outdoor restaurant underneath a fan (upon further in-depth research--wikipedia--I discovered that the movie was probably "airheads." Not one of Brendan Fraser's finest, but it is a cheap time machine to the early 90s) and strike up a conversation with a girl sitting at the table next to mine. Though she's a born and raised englishwoman, my hunch is that she's of mixed racial background, a hunch which is confirmed when she tells me that after Vietnam, she is headed to see her mother's family in Indonesia--and she is proficient enough in Bahasa to shock touts and merchants who try to overcharge her.

She's from Leeds (for whatever reason, the two most common hometowns/areas for the English that I met, other than London, were Leeds and Yorkshire), but works at the University of Manchester in their social anthropology department, and managed to get her ticket to Vietnam, as well as some expenses, paid for by the university, as she was conducting research in Saigon. It turns out she did a year abroad at Arizona State while studying photography (and had a blast).

We both notice an interesting phenomenon--the majority of the people on beaches in Vietnam between the hours of about 9 to 4pm are pale and pasty foreigners or wealthy vietnamese (which you can tell by their dress). As soon as 4pm rolls around, however, rush hour for the locals occurs, and the beach is swarming with extended families and groups of friends seeking to enjoy the last 2.5 hours of daylight--this probably isn't a coincidence, as 4pm to sunset is the nicest part of the day by far.

After considerably cooling off, we decide to join them and just walk on the beach for about an hour or so and see the good (older vietnamese couples burying each other in the sand, young vietnamese couples with their lifejacket swaddled children), the bad (merchants placing mats along the shoreline and pestering us to sit down and have some food, the sheer crowds), and the just plain ugly (villas/developments along one end of the shoreline, white "whales" sunbathing and wearing banana hammocks near said properties). It was a nice setting, but I thought China Beach was actually nicer because it was bigger, less touristy, and had better views.

Ride back as the sun again sets over the ricefields, and I do my usual routine of go to the bar, eat, and end up meeting an ex PWC employee from london, and a UBS worker from L.A. who is in the process of being transferred to New York.

Hoi Ants

I forgot to mention in my previous post one important thing about the bus from Hoi An to Hue--considering that this SE Asia, it wouldn't have been a bus ride without some cheesy music videosof some sorts. The choice for this ride? A bunch of obscure B-side hits from the late 80s.

How obscure? I've listened to a lot of 80s music in my time--and dare I say, actually like it (I never said I had great musical taste)--and so I recognized some of the bands, but I had never heard of most of the songs played. I realize Vietnam was effectively closed off from the world of pop culture during the 1980s, but that doesn't mean that everything they missed out on was worth experiencing. Another bizarre scene--watching some spectacular scenery while trying to stifle my laughter as the corner of my eye spots gregory hines and mikhail baryshnikov (sp?) dancing in a Lionel Richie music video. I repeat: if there is any down, out of work, 80s new wave band who needs the money, launch a reunion tour in SE Asia, and maybe consider living there permanently--you may not make as much money as you did in your heyday, but at least the cost of living is much cheaper. Heck, if I can find a dirt cheap airfare, it might be worth it to start a tribute band and rake in the dough.

So, I arrive in Hoi An around 1pm after having made the customary 30 minute rest-stop for every 1.5 hours on the road. My first impression? This is it? Doesn't look like much to me. It turns out the bus had dropped us off about a couple of hundred yards from the main old town site, near a lot of the budget/good value guesthouses. It was also very hot--and the sun was brutal.

For $12, I agree on a fairly decent room. That's when I notice the ants. (Side note: I hate ants. Passionately. I was literally scarred for life when I was 8 or 9 years old when I reached my hand in some bushes to dig out a basketball after getting out of school for Christmas break, and found my right forearm swarming with fireants, and ran, screaming, into the playroom bathroom to wash them off. Bite scars are still visible to this day). At first, I think that they are no big deal--and, at worst, I can always change rooms or hotels the next night, and I purposely put all my bags on tables away from the ants.

After resting for a bit, I got a map and started to wander around--(another piece of advice: save weight during the daytime by getting a map from your hotel/hostel/tourist office, take it back to your hotel room, look at the guidebook, and mark up what you want to see on the map--then ditch the guidebook. Those things can be hefty, and you really don't need them if you are just wandering around a certain area for the day)--and discovered that the map was a little bit inaccurate and not to scale, but once you figured that out, it was smooth sailing.

They've managed to do a great job of preserving the old town part of Hoi An that clings to the river--the buildings are in the Vietnamese Colonial style--all painted yellow and with the standard roof decorations. I spent the afternoon walking (and sweating) while also avoiding some of the equipment being used to tear up and subsequently repave the streets of Hoi An. That first day, I managed to find an internet cafe--although, in hindsight, I should have skipped it--the place was the previously described internet cafe with a grand total of two fans in a room packed with about 20 or so people, next to a house that was being repaired--and was serenaded by the sound of drills and other construction equipment. The sound and the afternoon heat were just to much to bear and I had to get out of there. Luckily, I was able to find a place much closer (cooler and nicer) that I was able to use, and it became my routine spot--it was a small place run by a family who lived upstairs (very common in vietnam for the merchant or restaurant owner to live either beside or above their business), and also operated a combination dvd/radioshack type of shop.

Had dinner the first night at a nearby place that wasn't all that memorable, but it was decent.

I get back to my room, and go to sleep, purposely trying to avoid the ants. When I woke up the next morning, to my dismay, there were ants all over the place--even where I had put my bag to purposely avoid them. I managed to get all of them off, but enough was enough, and I decided to see if I could change my room. They gave me the key to another room, and I check it out, but discover that there are ants in there too. I get my bags and walk out after paying. Fortunately, I was in guesthouse heaven--there were at least 10 if not 15 within a 2-3 block radius. I literally walked two doors down to another guesthouse, found a comparable room for the exact same price (imagine that--collusion, probably, but who knows--I could have gotten it for cheaper had I tried to bargain it down, but it honestly wasn't worth it).

When I wandered around in the old town in the afternoon, I honestly had no idea what I was seeing. So, after first getting my measurements taken for suits, I explored the old town with a purpose. My problem is that I had no idea what I was actually looking at, so I basically retraced my steps and wandered around the place for the morning and early afternoon. Hoi An is a nice relaxing place with not a lot of pressure to do anything, so I certainly didn't mind having an easy day of sorts. Walked down to the river and crossed the bridge to an island that is slightly off the tourist track and saw some of the local fisherman and fishing vessels. Took pictures of about four kids playing marbles in the shade. They requested some American coins, but, unfortunately, I didn't have any--instead, I looked through my wallet and found four 1 baht coins (worth about 3 cents apiece), and gave them that instead.

If you can get away from the motorbike drivers, Vietnamese people can be extremely hospitable and welcoming. It was approaching midday, and I needed a break, so I stopped by a little roadside stand and had a coke. The shopkeeper was there with her 7 year old daughter and husband, and, in her limited english, tried to talk to me. I freely obliged, and, soon enough, the daughter took an interest in me and started practicing her english--which I didn't mind helping her with. Certain practices transcend cultural boundaries, and that includes bragging about their children. Proud of their daughter, the mother and father showed off her notebook from school--not only was her handwriting better than mine (don't be too impressed...elephants with paintbrushes have better handwriting than I do), but she received darn near perfect marks on everything.

If its "hot" at 9am, than its darn near boiling at between 1&2pm, so its a perfect time to go inside and take a rest--and that's exactly what I did.

The weird thing about Hoi An and central Vietnam in general is that as miserable as the weather can be in June from sunrise to about 2-3pm, by 4pm or so, the low-pressure systems that bring in the monsoons to other parts of Vietnam create coastal breezes and winds that cool the temperature considerably--by at least 5-10 degrees--and make it borderline pleasant outdoors.

In broad daylight, the scenery surrounding Hoi An and Danang, with mountains in the background and ricefields and rivers in the foreground, is pretty to look at. In the late afternoon sun, the setting is spectacular.

With the decent temperature and the late afternoon sun not nearly as harsh as it was midday or in the morning, I decided it was as good a time as any to check out China Beach--the long, crescent shaped stretch of sand about 20-30 minutes from Hoi An that served as the legendary R&R location for many an American soldier and civilian based at nearby Danang. It was also, according to wikipedia, the name of a critically acclaimed but poorly viewed TV drama based on the experiences of red cross workers and GIs that worked in Danang that aired around 1990--and that, to the dismay of many fans, hasn't been released on DVD (from the brief clips I saw on youtube, it actually wasn't half-bad). In a rare case of a moto driver actually undershooting my expected price--the first hotel I stayed at told me it should cost about 12 bucks round trip, the second hotel said 10 bucks--the moto driver offered to take me there for six bucks. And he actually approached me, not vice versa. Sold.

Back on the road that hugs the coast, the high mountains of Hai Van pass that stretch to the sea north of Danang are backlit and silhouetted by the fading sun--and the low light manages to magically illuminate the just off-shore Cham Islands--four of five tall karst uplifts known for their great diving. After we passed the Danang international telecom cable station, I had the driver pull over near some of the roadside land that bears the scars of having previously been developed and built on (depressions, cleared fields, levelled ground, etc.--I'm not sure that the land used to a be a military base, but it would be interesting to look at a map archive to see what exactly was built there) so I could take some pictures.

We pass the usual golf courses, future development sites, and resorts, and then turn off on a dirt road within spitting distance of the entrance to the Marble Mountains. To my surprise, I am one of a grand total of less than five white people on this beautiful beach on the South China Sea. Lots of Vietnamese are out on the beach with their families and friends, doing things that wouldn't be out of place in the U.S.--building sandcastles (you have to wonder if that started out in the west, and was exported to Vietnam, or its just innate for kids no matter where they are to build castles in the sand), playing volleyball/soccer, sitting with their romantic partner, playing in the water with their families. The most noticeable difference, though, between this scene and one in the U.S. is the modesty of the women--whereas men and boys are wearing the standard swimshorts, vietnamese women, after they pass puberty it seems, are generally pretty modest on the beach--covering their shoulders and wearing shorts that are, at minimum, just above knee-length.

The low light, the coastal breeze, the spectacular setting, and the laid-back ambience of a place with historical significance as a respite from war created a magical scene that seemed to wipe away any worry or care from your mind--because the only other people on the beach were vietnamese, it was easy to feel a pleasant sense of isolation of just being on your own.

I walked up and down the beach, and decided to explore a little inland to where I had seen some ruins of buildings and rusted barbed wire that sat by the main dirt road to the beach. This probably wasn't the smartest idea given the potential for tetanus because of the rusted wire, broken glass, and broken bricks. I tried to imagine what could have possibly been there--it certainly had the appearance of an old military base, with the barbed wire, but I wasn't sure. And that's when I saw it; I somehow managed to miss it at first because it was covered in foliage, but the concrete octagonal structure had clear open firing slits, and a back entrance. It was a pillbox, oriented towards the beach. There was a plaque by the entrance--which was too littered with broken glass to risk exploring--but it was only inscribed with vietnamese (I took a picture of it--hopefully I'll be able to get it translated).

With the light continuing to fade, and needing to get back for another fitting, I got back on the motorbike and headed back towards Hoi An.

As I have mentioned previously, it is easy to get cynical after being on the road for 8-9 weeks, but there are certain things that can still make you go "wow" and possess jaw-dropping capability. A Hoi An sunset is one of them. I had the driver pull over once more as we were about to go over a bridge, and I walked on the sidewalk to the center. The inland wetlands and fishing vessels were silhouetted by the orange glow of the setting sun--and the only thing on my mind was that I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

There was more to come, however, as we pulled over by some ricefields so I could take pictures of the setting sun behind the mountain ranges reflecting in the water-filled ricefields filled with green shoots.

There are certain moments that I hope will stay with me forever, and that late afternoon is one of them (fortunately, though, I was able to take lots of pictures, unlike the full-moonlit nights on Merapi and in Luang Prabang). After that experience, I vowed to return to China Beach before I left.

Got my fitting and wandered around Hoi An at night. Spent a while gazing from the middle of the An Hoi footbridge as lightning illuminated far off thunder clouds. In my dumb luck, while taking a picture of the bridge, I managed to get some lightning lit clouds in the background. Of course, when I tried to purposely take photos of the lightning, I failed miserably--only getting blackness instead.

The Road to Hoi An

I didn't purposely plan my trip around taking a bus or the road from Hue to Hoi An or vice versa. I knew that I wanted to visit both places, and it just so happened that they were so close to each other (about 3-4 hours by bus) that it didn't make any sense to fly (not that there are any flights between the two). While I was in Hue, though, I saw advertisements about chartering a motorbike and doing the road that way, since apparently the road from Hue to Hoi An had been profiled on some famous British TV show known as "Top Gear" and is considered to be the most spectacular stretch of road in SE Asia.

Because I don't know how to ride, I would have had to hire a driver as well, which would result in a journey price 10x more expensive than taking the bus, and more expensive than some air tickets I had purchased on the trip. There's also the fact that being the passenger on the back of one of those things is only fun for about 30 minutes--after the first half hour, it starts to get tiresome, and you start to get saddle-sore--so I booked the bus instead, which proved to be a wise choice.

The only other option of getting from Hue to Hoi An is via rail. As the main highway runs parallel to the railroad for almost the entire stretch, it is really a question of timing and convenience--for me, it was simply more convenient to take the bus--it is air conditioned, and the roads are in much better shape in Vietnam than in Laos or Cambodia.

We head out of Hue, crossing over one of the many canals/streams that run throughout the city, and then start to head south. As the city passes by, tree covered ridgelike hills are visible behind the houses lining the railbed, which is on the right side of the bus (if heading south), and further hills/borderline mountains that are faintly lit in the distance become increasingly visible as the bus nears their location. It doesn't take long before you are in a rural area that matches the common image of Vietnam many of us have--clearings and fields surrounded by green forests and irregularly shaped hills and mountains.

As you move farther south, you cross over several rivers, and even higher mountains and hills loom in the distance, making the uplifts near Hue look like bunny slopes. In a perfect world, I would have gotten the bus driver to pull over every time I wanted to take a photo. Unfortunately, that would have meant spending the night somewhere between Hue and Hoi An. Forunate enough to get a seat on the west side of the bus, the morning light worked to my advantage as I dealt with limited glare while taking photos from the window. This means I was forced to shoot on the fly, and hope for the best. Fortunately, my photos came out great.

Following the lead of other people on my bus, I also left my seat several times to take pictures through the windshield of scenes that I couldn't have shot any other way. The road becomes increasingly spectacular as the mountains and hills crowd nearer to the coastline, creating some spectacular contrasts in scenery. Steep mountains with jagged ridgelines tower over flat as pancake kelly green ricefields and farmers houses.

The previously flat road starts to steepen, as we begin a climb in elevation to cross one of the various mountain passes, which provides an amazing vista of the surrounding area. The views are just stunning. Coming down from the first mountain pass, an even more stunning sight awaits--a sheltered, nearly perfectly spherical inlet/cove with aquamarine water presided over by steep and towering mountains that rise almost directly from the shoreline--it's not something you expect to see in Vietnam, which makes it all the more spectacular. There's an edenesque quality to the cove, as there's little in the way of tourism, and is only populated by local fisherman still casting their nets in the traditional means.

Then, you have to climb up the second and final mountain pass--and the most spectacular one as well. You emerge from a tunnel bored directly through a mountain staring directly below at aquamarine water, an almost perfect crescent shaped beach, and Danang--vietnam's third or fourth largest city, and where the US marines landed in 1965. The pass is known as Hai Van, and it is easily the most spectacular mountain pass in Vietnam--nowhere else will you get a vista with a such a unique combination of tall, offshore islands, clear water, a flesh colored beach, and an industrial city all in one frame.

Many Americans around my parents age will likely have a natural interest in seeing Danang, considering it was a major US military center during the Vietnam War, but little remains from that period, and Danang is just a massive, sprawling city, with no apparent character to it. If you are desperate to explore it, better to stay in Hoi An and take a day trip to Danang, which is only 30 kms away. The place kind of had a Miami vibe to it, only without the same cultural/artistic ambience. You could do a full scale model of Danang in the U.S., and it wouldn't be all that dissimilar from any number of communities and towns on the gulf coast.

You get past Danang, and see a cluster of about five or so karst hills in the middle of an otherwise flat coastline--these are the Marble Mountains, and can be seen as the traditional starting point for the legendary R&R spot of China Beach, which is actually just a general location name for the long, crescent-shaped stretch of sand from Danang to Hoi An.

You pass what appear to be relics of a US military presence--half oval concrete airplane hanger like structures that are now used as garages and for various other purposes.
You can also see in various places where the ground was definitely built on and had been previously altered, even though no structures currently exist there on site--these sites could be the former locales of military bases, or merely something less historical. It would be interesting to view old military maps of the area and find out, though.

Then the road passes by a cluster of golf courses and walled off properties bearing the names of Greg Norman, Colin Montgomerie, the Hyatt, and Le Meridien. China Beach--at least the part that's closest to Danang--looks like it is going to explode in the next five to ten years with the amount of development occuring along its coast, as Vietnam attempts to market it as their "golf coast." Big changes are in store, and it would be interesting to come back in several years to see what the place looks like.

You pass more land that looks like it once held a development of some kind, given how depressed some of the sand and the grass is, and the small size of the trees dotting the properties indicate that they were planted rather recently.

Then, its past the Danang International Cable building before crossing over a river, passing more ricefields and finally arriving in the quaint and quiet town of Hoi An, where I will pick up from in my next post.

Rainbows and Rainfall--last post on Hue

A constant question people have asked me--including my parents--was whether or not I like travelling. I'd say about 80-90% of the time I loved being on my own--being my own boss, and only having to do what I wanted to do, and avoiding some of the petty arguments that can result when two people are in close quarters for long periods of time--arguments that probably wouldn't occur in normal circumstances (see my experience with AJ). There were certainly times that I was indeed a little bit lonely and wished for a travelling companion of some sort--especially when it came to getting pictures taken of me.

The nice thing about travelling alone, though, is that it makes you more approachable by local tourists and other tourists who might otherwise be intimidated by the presence of two or more westerners--it's human nature, and it occurs in the west as well. Assuming everything else is equal, who are you more likely to approach, a person on their own, or a group of people?

So, I was sitting in the shade underneath a tower overlooking the forbidden city, and reading some of McNamara's "In Retrospect," when a pair of vietnamese twin boys sit down next to me and start looking over my shoulder. We start to talk--one is more proficient in english than the other--and they are 14 and from Saigon (again, when I asked "ho chi minh city or saigon" they said "saigon") and were visiting their uncle who lives in Hue. The one that is more proficient in english actually wants to become an english teacher, and wanted to practice his english with someone, so I freely obliged--again, the nice thing about being on your own is that you can set your own schedule.

It was a nice little moment, and one that reflects the fact that if you can get past the touts and the people claiming to be your friends, most people in SE Asia are generally very nice and welcoming, but they are also extremely shy and reserved, so if they start to make an effort towards you, than it is best to encourage them and to put them at ease with stuff that will get them to laugh, the most common of which that I used was "your english, better than my [insert name of local language]." The nice thing about that when I said that, I wasn't lying either--i was being honest. I managed to make them laugh without confusing them or possibly lying to them--all very important things to avoid in dealing with cross-cultural communication.

I dragged my now sweaty rear-end back to the hostel and rested for a good part of the day, making reservations for the bus to Hoi An the next day.

Like clockwork, the monsoons arrived and dumped on Hue for about two hours between 2 and 4pm. I actually started to look forward to them, because after the rains fell, the temperature usually dropped by a couple of degrees, and humidity levels correspondingly decreased, making it relatively nice to walk around in the late afternoon.

Along with clearing out some of the humidity, the monsoons also somehow "cleared the skies"--long distance visibility drastically increased following the monsoons--meaning that if you were looking upriver from Hue, previously non-visible mountain ridges magically appeared, silhouetted in the fading light.

There was but one thing left on my "to do list" in Hue before I caught my bus the next morning, and that was taking a dragonboat ride down the Perfume River (yes, that's actually what it is called). So, I walked about three blocks to the main pier, and hired one for 10 bucks an hour (there was only about two hours of daylight left, and I didn't want to miss out on my last free beer, so I only did it for an hour).

In New Haven, CT its possible to go from zero to sketchy (in terms of neighborhoods) in about a block. In Hue, its possible to go from urban to rural in about five minutes. Within easy eyesight of urban Hue and probably a 20 minute drive (with bad traffic), a rural setting prevails with local residents living alongside the riverbanks and using personally built canoes/boats to get around. Dark green ferns are everywhere, and it is clear that native plant life could easily reclaim any abandoned structure within a decade, if not a span of several years.

As we reached the halfway point of the boatride, and the sun continues to fade, I looked up and saw that the monsoons have left another gift to those who chose to look skyward--a giant, vividly colored rainbow whose crisp colors and wide width come closer to matching the "ideal" rainbow than any other rainbow I've ever seen. It was just one of those moments whose full effect simply cannot be replicated on paper or in photos, no matter how great the photography or prose may be. You just simply had to be there.

After 8.5 weeks of travelling, certain things that once astounded now only generate yawns--(ie. doesn't that look like the same temple I saw last week?)--but there are still things capable of generating jaw-drop worthy awe, and this scene, with the sun's rays illuminating Hue, while green mountains loomed in the distance, a river ran in the foreground, and a giant rainbow floated overhead, had that power.

I personally don't agree with the common cultural belief that rainbows or other natural phenomena are meant to be viewed as omens. In hindsight, however, the rainbow was more than just an omen--it was a preview of things to come as I made my way down south along the Vietnamese Coast.

Now, since it was my last night in Hue, and the US England soccer game was on at 130am local time, I should have, in theory, stayed up drinking and watching the game. I was drained, however, and the road from Hue to Hoi An was legendary for its scenery. I knew that if I got to bed anytime past 1 or so, I would end up sleeping on the bus, and I didn't want to miss the sights along the way. So, while I indeed had a couple of drinks, and found a great place to go the next time I am in Hue--a place that somehow manages to attract both local restaurant staff and tourists in the area--I went to bed early and rested up.

Sleep versus Soccer--there really wasn't any doubt as to what I was going to do.

Backfill time!

It's official--I am back in Dallas--got in at 530 am tuesday morning, and I will now finally be able to backfill some of the stuff I left out, with the help of all the pictures that I have taken.

Mama would have been very pleased with my trip--I ended up losing somewhere between 10-12 pounds on the trip because of all the sweating and walking around I was doing.

Bear with me as I do this to the best of my ability.

No last minute changes

No last minute changes, as I sit here typing this from the Singapore Airport departure lounge, post customs--bags are checked through to DFW, and I have my boarding passes.
Will be doing some weird date hopping because of the international dateline.
Flight leaves singapore on monday, arrives in hong kong monday night, then my flight from hong kong to san francisco leaves at 1230am on tuesday, arrives at around 9pm on monday in sfo, and then my flight to dallas leaves around 130am local time--meaning that I actually fly back in time from Tuesday to Monday on one of my legs.

It was a great trip, and I still need to do some further posts to detail Vietnam, Singapore, and some other thoughts and experiences from the trip--besides, its good practice for me to get back in the habit of writing, considering I'm going to be doing a ton of that in late August.

Singapore one last time

Well, I have arrived safely in Singapore for my night stop and will head to the airport around noonish for my 4pm flight--I stored one of my bags that is filled with my suits for the price of 5 bucks for 24 hours--and I need to do some repacking/sorting of materials.

I had a lot of fun last night in Saigon--I'll talk about details later, but let's just say I'm glad that my flight didn't leave until 3pm this afternoon.

Brief rants:
I fully expect airport markups no matter where I go--but the airport markups in vietnam and cambodia in the international terminals are absurd to the point of highway robbery. Prices are easily 4 times greater than what you would see in the street, and it stinks of one giant cash grab before you leave the country.

Other absurd cost: ATM fees. In some cases, they weren't that bad ($1 or so), but in Thailand, they were an astronomical 150 baht per withdrawal (just under 5 dollars).

I can confidently declare that the phenomenon of "body at the airport, brain left at home" is not isolated to the U.S.--it occurs everywhere. Even in Vietnam, although, to be fair, the offenders weren't Vietnamese, they were Singaporean and should know better. One extended family causing problems/delays at check-in--of course, I was behind them--and being borderline disruptive to the point where I thought the flight attendants were going to throw some of them off the airplane.

Also, if your toddler is unhappy or sick or hurt, do not under any circumstances take them onto an airplane. Your fellow passengers will tremendously appreciate the favor--a kid shrieked for the last 20 minutes flying into Singapore--some of the loudest screaming I've ever heard on an airplane.

saigon

Saigon is crazy--people either love saigon and hate hanoi or vice versa. I love saigon and would stay a little bit longer, but it is expensive by vietnam standards (even though I managed to get a $30 hotel room for just $16 a night--and no, I didn't do anything illegal--all I did was walk into a hotel, look at the price list, begin to walk out saying that the price was too high, and the receptionist immediately knocked off almost half. Took a look at the room, and I was sold. I'm paying more than the going rate for aircon rooms--about 10-13 bucks, but I'm getting far more bang for my buck.)

I would truly love to stay and travel in SE Asia for longer, but the problem is that I have run out of Malarone--my anti-malaria medication. In theory, I should have been back in the U.S. a week ago, since you are supposed to take Malarone for a week once you leave malaria infested areas, but before I planned my vietnam excursion, I went on the CDC's website, and it said that malaria isn't a problem in Vietnam unless you go inland into the rural areas. I was sticking to the coast route where malaria is non-existent, so I could fulfill the week-long requirement in Vietnam.

I am also going to store some of my luggage at the Singapore Airport--because Singapore is such a major transit hub, they have safe, secure, and cheap luggage storage facilities. I had to buy another bag to carry my suits in, so that is what I will be storing--don't worry, I am not camping out at the airport--I have a hostel booked in Singapore, and will be spending the night there.

in saigon

arrived in saigon today--interesting ride on the plane.
both saigon and danang still have relics from the old us airbase.