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.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
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.
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.
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