Month: February 2016

My second train trip in Vietnam…six hours from Da Nang to Dong Hoi. Given it was mid-day and the trip relatively short, I opted for a seat instead of a berth. Random thoughts and shots…

The car is dirty and has a stale odour of chicken soup  I hear loud gagging noises and see a young woman coming down the aisle, dangerously close to vomiting.

I am seated across from two porters  one of whom is going through the other’s hair with tweezers.

Even the grimy windows cannot take away from the lush green landscape…vines and massive tropical leaves blanketing rolling hills that drop gently to deserted beaches and the sea..

My seat mate’s elbow is stuck into my arm like a piece of wood.

All but the very poorest of houses in towns and villages along the way have identical huge pots of bright yellow flowers adorning their entrances.

I am working on becoming friends with the baby boy in the seat in front of me. So far I’m failing but he has shown some interest in peekaboo! 

I don’t think it’s my imagination that in addition to rice field after rice field, I am seeing more and more graveyards as we head farther north.  There was heavy fighting here during the American war.

I ask the man next to me to remove his body from my seat space. He complies, and bids me a cheerful good-bye when he disembarks.

i am sitting in the very busy train station in Da Nang. That name was always associated with war in the past; in the future, it will bring back memories of long, beautiful beaches and a bustling, move-forward city.

My time in Hoi An was perfect. I didn’t realize how much I needed to relax and unplug from the road until I actually did it. Loc Phat Villa and Homestay was the perfect place to do that too, far enough from the old quarter to be quiet but still walkable. Linh, her sister Hoang and their entire family were great hosts, friendly and helpful. Staying next door to a temple assisted with the whole Zen feel to my visit here too.

Most memorable experience in Hoi An…Banh my! To die for! Next stop, Dong Hoi and the caves! But first, a six-hour train trip in the club car…adventure awaits methinks.

There’s a steady, fine rain falling. Wang at reception says it might end by this afternoon but I think I’ll look for a light jacket regardless; I am heading north where it is cooler, and I’ll definitely need something warm for Sapa.

Hoi An has grown on me…a lot! I met a woman from New York a few days ago, and we’ve been hanging out together, experiencing the sights, sounds and smells of this charming little town. Hoi An was once an important trading port but that changed when ships got larger and the port could no longer accommodate them. That trading history explains the astounding number of merchants here, selling everything imaginable. It is well-known for the myriad tailors who can whip up whatever your heart desires in about 24-hours. Like something but they don’t have the colour or size you want? No worries, the shop keeper will take your order and deliver it to your hotel in a couple of hours. A dangerous place for someone like me….

In a perverse twist, however, I have downsized my wardrobe! Packed up the stuff I never should have brought and sent it home by sea yesterday  I should have it by May, which is about when I’ll be ready to look at it again  Have I finally learned the packing lesson?

My friend Christine invited me along on a tour yesterday of My Son, an ancient Champa temple site about 40 kms outside of town. This place was bombed heavily during the war as is evident by the crumbling structures and huge indents in the earth which have been converted into “ponds”. We were accompanied by the funniest (and shortest) tour guide in Vietnam, Lan, and her apprentice, Nhan. Lan not only works as a guide; she is a singer, a poet, an actor and a strong advocate for her country’s sovereignty. She combined all of these into an unforgettable morning which culminated in a stand-up performance in a hole-in-the-wall banh my shop where we had lunch. I’m still chuckling. 

I was once again completely present  no pics on phone…sorry…

 

 

It rained overnight as forecast and the garden at Loc Phat Homestay & Villa is lush and fragrant. This is by far the most comfortable I’ve been since leaving home. Actually, including home! The room looks like something from a spa retreat, the breakfast was good and plentiful and all for $25 US. I also like the location which is mid-way between the beach and town.

Hoi An….I understand why previous visitors speak so highly of it. It is the most Western of any place I’ve visited to date, so it’s familiar, comfortable, completely geared toward tourists. But authentic Vietnam it is not. And while I am thrilled that it is easy, I am a wee bit disappointed. But hey, I’m drinking the best coffee I’ve had since leaving home and sitting outside in a green garden filled with red Chinese lanterns. 

The train trip from Phan Thiet outside of Mui Ne was a hoot. I shared my compartment with a Vietnamese woman who might have been about my age and also the female train porter who slept on the bunk above me. It appeared that she was on duty because she jumped up at one stop, put on her cap and rushed out to stand on the platform, looking official if a bit disheveled. But for the most part, she slept…

It appeared that she and the other lady knew each other. They sang songs together, shared food (and tried to feed me several times) and talked a lot. They did their best to include me but it was kinda useless, given my ten words of Vietnamese. The best part of all? I slept like a baby for ten hours. There’s nothing like the sounds and sway of a train clickety-clacking to put me back in baby land, no doubt inherited from my dear Dad.

The sun looks like it may make an appearance. Damn…

I am starting to get the hang of Mui Ne. One of the tricks is to rise early and go to the beach before the wind (and waves) pick up. A quick ice coffee at the beach bar, then 90 minutes of walking the shore, taking time for a refreshing swim, collecting unique shells to be deposited into my bowl of fame back home.

Arriving back at Coco Sand after a late breakfast, I engaged in a quick language lesson with the guy at the desk, then turned around to see a familiar face…the dude who has been trying to convince me since my arrival that I should see the sand dunes from the back of his motorbike. He wears a startlingly-white hat festooned with the Canadian flag, a gift from a tourist. He’s a sweet guy, but it ain’t happening. I think I finally got through to him yesterday, although he’ll likely try again before I leave here; I think it’s written somewhere in the motorbike driver code of ethics that no means probably…

I opted for a Jeep tour of local attractions in the afternoon…The vehicle was 40 years old, and we managed to cram eight tourists plus the driver into it – three young guys from Texas, two young Israeli women, a couple from LA and me.

The first driver was insane, so when we stopped and another guy took his place it was all we could do not to give him a standing ovation. Instead, I patted him on the back and asked him not to kill us. He smiled warmly, which I took as a good sign, fool that I am.

First stop, the Fairy Stream. I don’t know why they call it that, as I repeated over and over to the curmudgeon from LA as we walked barefoot upstream. It wasn’t long though before the magic began…soaring cliffs of PEI-red sands, impossible greenery, and cows! Almost as good as fairies!

I struck up a conversation with one of the Texas lads who was pretty banged up with bandages on his arms, legs and foot. Turns out it was…..drum roll….a motorcycle accident. Seems a truck cut him off. I rest my case about &@$/#€£ motorcycles.

Arriving back at the jeep, we were told we had to wait an extra ten minutes while the driver scanned the faces of passing tourists. We were a little confused, seeing as our group was all present and accounted for, but we finally got the signal to get back on board, only the Israeli girls weren’t coming with us. They were sent to another vehicle and we replaced by a very nice Chinese couple. I made a mental note not to be the last one back to the jeep…

On to the fishing village. There were boats. We took pictures. Back in the jeep, this time in a seat where I couldn’t see the road because this guy had apparently attended the same driving school as the first one…

The white sand dunes were absolutely mind-boggling. Trouble was, they were quite far away from the parking lot and the only way to get close was by 4-wheeler. I hate those things…more than motorcycles actually…but I had no choice. After getting the curmudgeon’s Vietnamese wife to read him the riot act about going slowly, I paid my two bits and climbed aboard. That bastard is responsible for taking ten years off my life….

Last stop, red sand dunes at sunset. And we made it back to town with no incident although we took the back roads instead of the highway because there are “less police… “

The shadow is fleeting in the blazing afternoon sun. I look up in time to see the giant kite turn and rush away from the beach where I am standing. I’m momentarily confused until I see him zip past me, flitting across the top of the waves. Then he is airborne, high in the sky as his yellow, blue and black kite dips and soars in response to his command He is a wizard. Small, wiry and looking like he was born with those wings. His passion is palpable. And beautiful.

An early start on our second day of the tour to get the best of the floating market. It was great…chaotic and confusing with so many vessels and folks bartering for the best deal. Huge boats hauling wood and sand and other construction materials gliding by on the outside p, boats laden with pineapples, coconuts, sweet potatoes and other veggies in the centre and tiny long tails zipping in and out selling drinks and fruit to tourists, farmers and wholesalers alike.

I found myself on the side of the boat away from the majority of the action. Since we couldn’t all be on that side (or else we’d experience the Mekong up close and personal), I was content to watch from the frimges. It wasn’t until we’d made our way through the fray to the other side that I realized I hadn’t taken a single shot with my phone for the blog. Apologies, but I was in the moment!

We did see one thing that may have been rare…a near-fight between an older woman and a young man. She was threatening to hit him with a stick, and it was touch-and-go there for a few minutes. No idea what it was about, but since everyone appeared to be paying close attention, I had the sense that it doesn’t happen every day.

Next stop was a rice noodle place…similar to what we saw the day before but with the extra step of sending the big round rice sheets through a slicer. A slick operation which I’ll remember the next time I see the noodles wound together like wool in the packaging.

We then headed to a small village where we rented rickety bicycles for an hour’s ride along the twisting, turning canals. I didn’t realize that many of these were dug out by hand to expand access for those who lived there back in the day. There are now a whopping 27,000 kms of waterways.

I met some wonderful people on this tour – two couples from Sweden traveling together and two Vietnamese couples from Canada who didn’t know each other to begin with. Fascinating to see this country through the eyes of someone returning after a long period of time…

I booked a two-day, one-night tour of the Mekong delta for $55 USD. My expectations are not particularly high, so already, I am pleasantly surprised. The vehicle is big enough for me and 20 friends-to-be, and we all seem fairly mature. There is an empty seat beside me, one of the advantages of singledom. Also one of the disadvantages…

Our tour guide is Philippe. Not his real name of course which sounds something like Purr. I’m playing it safe with the French version. He is funny as hell, but there’s always a slight delay as my brain makes its way through the heavy accent to get to meaning. He was talking a bit about weather earlier so I showed him a pic of the aftermath of one of last year’s snowstorms. He was momentarily speechless. I’m not sure that happens often…BTW, he just noted there are 6 million motorbikes in Saigon. That’s pretty much what I counted yesterday.

We transferred to a boat after a two-hour drive in the area of the Cai Be floating market. We were a bit late for it today but those of us who have two days will see it tomorrow. It’s not as big as it once was. Before cars and bikes and highways, this was the only mode of transport other than bicycles and they too needed to cross the river and canals that snake through the fertile land. The market is still viable of course, just smaller.

We stopped at a coconut candy place where we saw them make rice popcorn (think puffed rice cereal). They also add things like sugar and various spices to make sweets that resemble rice crispie squares. The coconut candy was delicious, and I hear the rice wine had a kick to it. Philippe says it’s good for making babies.

On to a market, then a honey bee farm where you can buy royal jelly which the label claims is a superfood (including a Viagara replacement). No one from our group bought it so we’ll never know…

The highlight was a leisurely paddle on a sampan with a local man at the oars. We saw folks going about their daily business both by boat and by bicycle on the narrow pathways that run along the canals. Next a fruit stand where we ate products grown along the river  -jackfruit, mini bananas, watermelon, water apple and something resembling a lychee nut. And we were entertained by local musicians with regional folk songs.

Finally, lunch and a hammock to lie in. The day trippers left us about mid-afternoon and we are now at the hotel in Can Tho, the largest city in this breadbasket. Population is about 1.5 million, a breeze after Saigon. The tour has been brilliant so far. Perhaps a bit more “shopping” than I’d like but all the stops were informative and no hard pressure tactics. The hotel is heavenly, and the restaurants and night market are around the corner.

I was 21 when the US loaded the last of its people onto helicopters on the roof of its embassy in Saigon and withdrew from this country. Forty years later, it is surreal to be standing on Vietnamese soil, getting the other side of the story. Because there are always two sides, and we got a lot of propaganda and outright lies when we heard the first version.

Spent about six hours wandering the streets of Ho Chi Minh City’s District 1 today. First the War Remnants Museum, then Independence Palace, Notte Dame Cathedral, the charming Post Office Building and finally, massive Ben Thanh Market. Traffic is deadly. The number of motorbikes on the street is mind-boggling, and they have their own rules, often driving on the sidewalk when it’s more convenient than the road. Pedestrians have no choice but to plough into the middle of the onslaught because if you don’t, you don’t get anywhere. I had a few gasps today but nothing that I consider a close call. It all seems to work.

I’m pretty sure I’m in a backpacker slum of sorts. There aren’t many locals and there appears to be a heavy emphasis on beer. No worries though, the hotel is great and there’s a superb Indian restaurant around the corner. I’m outta here in the morning for the Mekong delta.