Well, actually the full saying goes "no money, no honey; no honey no lovin'; no lovin', no baby; no baby, no problem."As taught to us by our Vietnamese tour guide through Nha Trang Bay. So I have a feeling, then, that you've guessed we entered Vietnam...
.......................
Amy and I left Cambodia on a low- low morale, low spirits, whatever you want to call it. It was the most difficult, heart-wrenching place I've ever been, hands down. So it was with not a little bit of guilt that we decided to to spoil ourselves, and hop a boat for the journey to Vietnam. A six hour sail down the Mekong brought us to the Mekong Delta, the small town of Chau Doc, and the completely and utterly true rice hat stereotype. All along the banks of the river, men and women alike worked in fields and rode on motorcycles sporting rice hats. What a delight. As is the fact that the currency, which we happily exchanged on the boat, is called the Dong. 'Nough said.
Anyway, Chau Doc was not exactly our desired getaway, so we hopped a bus immediately into Saigon. But the bus wasn't a bus- it was a van, which took us to another van, which drove us to a ferry and then for five hours toward the biggest, most crowded city I've yet seen. And then, of course, came the cursory midnight motorcycle ride through crowded traffic circles and down narrow alleys full of chickens, to a hotel that was full, and then another one that was full and finally....blissful, sweet bed. And AIR CONDITIONING!
Saigon is massive, yes, but it's a city for the people, not a city for the tourists. So it was easy to pick out what sights we wanted to see- mainly, the Vietnam War Memorial Museum. As we walked through four floors of war artifacts, articles, and pictures, I've never been less proud to be an American. We saw barbed wire cages used by the US as torture chambers, cramming three or four people in a tiny space for days at a time, until they became deformed from crouching so long, or else cut up from the barbs. We read about Agent Orange, a chemical used excessively in the War, and which has been found to be VERY bad for humans- back then it meant melted-off or exploded body parts; today it means generations still born mentally or physically handicapped. It was fascinating to see how the whole world, from New Zealand to Ghana (and let's be honest, who considers Ghana to be a political stronghouse- and yet they organized demonstrations against the War in Vietnam) were against the war, and yet the U.S. didn't listen. We found a way to justify it...
It was December 5th when we ditched the city and made our way to the first stop up the coast of Vietnam- a distance comparable to that between Montreal and Florida. The town was called Mui Ne, and it was our paradise. A perfect little beach town- white sand beaches, one of the top kite surfing destinations in the world. Our guesthouse opened right into the sand, and hammocks swung from every palm. Not bad, right? Aside from laying on the beach for hours at a time, we rented a motorcycle and rode out to the Red Sand Dunes, where we tried out our dune-surfing skills. And we found a mini waterfall, with the help of these two boys that acted as our tour guides. We knew they wanted money from us, so at the end we offered them some dong, and they looked appalled. They wanted about five times what we'd offered. When we said no, they left, but confronted us again at the motorcycles, until we handed more over. Not the best situation...
After Mui Ne came Nha Trang, and our first real super-tourist experience. We, along with a friend we made along the way (Arthur), joined a day tour around the bay. We stopped at a few islands, did some snorkeling, and ultimately couldn't believe how touristy it was! Let's just say there was enforced karaoke and dancing, and a 'floating bar.' We decided not to stay too long in Nha Trang, though, and left that night on an overnight bus North.
There's not much to say about the middle of the country- mainly because we decided to rush north and skip most of the middle. The night buses were great compared to normal buses, but I still had the joy of waking up with my overly-cuddly bunkmate using my forehead as his elbow rest. Yikes.
So, to just jump straight ahead, we just kept getting on buses until we found ourselves in the far Northeast of Vietnam, and the first real cool weather we'd seen in two months. The last bus dumped us off at Halong Pier, where we joined a tour boat on December 12th, booked to spend the night on the boat in eerie/beautiful Halong Bay. So it was that I woke up on my birthday on a boat, surrounded by thousands of islands that seemed to shoot straight up out of nowhere. The boat dropped our group off on Cat Ba Island, where we were taken to the local National Park to hike for awhile, and finally at the main town, to leave the group and fend for ourselves. There was plenty to keep busy...you know, the typical beautiful beaches and sunset to rival none. No problem.
Halong Bay was more than enough to keep us busy the next few days, but the racing calendar eventually had us straggling back to Hanoi, and then by train to the mountains, to hang out with the Red and Black H'mong Hilltribes (p.s. it was my first train!). Sapa, the town, was gloriously cold and full of adorable hill tribe women, pho ga, and hot tea. We wiled away time by hiking up into the hills, and found a crazy faerieland of views and trails. We even went to a Catholic Church service, delighting the Vietnamese tourists to the area to the point where we spent a good 20 minutes posing for their pictures. And, as sometimes happens, we didn't pay attention, and caused a minor scandal by sitting on the men's side of the church. Woops.
The road back from Sapa left us only five minutes from the border of China, so what could we do, but jump on motorcycles and find our way? Only the rifles and complete inability of the guards to take a joke stopped me from sprinting across the border...Ah well. We shrugged our regret, but left for Hanoi once again without managing to gain any bullet holes.
Hanoi is an incredible city. It's crowded and chaotic, but wonderful and full of culture. There are 'specialty food' streets with restaraunts that serve nothing but dog or cat meat; there are water puppet shows- truly bizarre spectacles which have been around for a thousand years; there's streets of shoes, others of silk; there's even the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, where "Uncle Ho" is completely and perfectly preserved, resting his head on a silk pillow as visitors file through. No talking, no hands in pockets, no pictures, look straight ahead, walk single file. Respect Uncle Ho.
That's it though...that's the end of our travels! We did and saw alot that I couldn't even bother mentioning, as there are real words for it. We have thousands of pictures, many stories, and several pairs of fisherman pants to show for our two months. And we have many more places to go :)
Random Tidbits:
-The lady at our guesthouse in Mui Ne, and her dog, decided that I shouldn't be allowed to write left-handed. As a result, I'm a little bit ambidextrous now!
-Sand flies are the bane of my existence
-Sometimes toilets in night buses don't flush. Sometimes if you decide to use them anyway, they slosh their contents on your foot when you hit a bump. :/
-listening to Vietnamese men sing 'Santa Baby' is a much better form of entertainment than any movie...ever
-If you happen to overstay your visa in Vietnam by say, 5 days...expect to get ripped off by corrupt immigration officials. Expect to pay $40, instead of the usual $25. Expect to want to cry and rip our their 2-inch-long mole hairs as they look at you and threaten to cancel your flight if you don't pay them what they want. Maybe next time, just get the right visa.
.....................
Cuoi
Friday, December 31, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Kampuchea'd
Well, I guess I've gradually talked my way through Thailand, so that would make this the story of Cambodia...A little preface? Well, Cambodia is one of the poorest countries in the world. Duh. The Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot (some relation to the dictator that is also my right bicep) did some damage, ya know? I don't mean for this story to be a history lesson, but to be honest, our trip and that history are inseparable. Cambodia is POOR. There is no place where this is not evident in Cambodia, and we began in Siem Reap, home to Angkor Wat and some of the most mercilessly aggressive hawkers out there.
...so Amy and I entered Cambodia on November 24 with the brilliant ambitions to slow our personal plunge into the depths of an empty bank account. Our plans included avoiding getting ripped off anymore, so we were proud to escape the scamming hands of false-visa salesman as we entered the country. Even more, we decided-and this is where certain relatives of mine will need to cover their eyes- to try couchsurfing. For those who maybe haven't heard yet, CouchSurfing is a phenomenon by which one registers on a website, and connects with other like-minded people who are willing to come let you crash for free at their place. Simple as that! And no, NOT sketchy...usually. I mean, I've done couchsurfing before, on the East coast and in Canada. And they were great experiences! That's why I didn't hesitate to get in touch with a dude named Moun in Siem Reap, who ran a reputable guesthouse and was willing to give us a patch of tile floor for a few days.
All that was fine, no problem. Moun himself was great and kind, and we really didn't care if we had to sleep on the floor. In fact, it wasn't until the second or third night, when the amount of grasshoppers coming in from the open window near my head was escalating to unbearable amounts. And when the bathroom that we had to share with the all-male staff two stories below began to reek of mildew and spawn mosquitos and a solitary massive cockroach (which decided to help Amy wash her hair). And when we both got horrible colds that took our voices and turned them into chainsaw-sandpaper growls. And when our Dutch rooommate got sick and began retching loudly through the night, which itself refused to cool down below 80 degrees freaking Fahrenheit. THEN it was too much.
But honestly, I can't complain about that. Siem Reap was a place where the inhabitants took every part of your soul capable of guilt and shoved it in the air for all to see. Anytime we sat down to a meal women with undersized infants on their híp would come up with their hands clasped together and stare, wordless. A shake of the head did nothing. They stood and watched the fork go from plate to mouth and back again. What should we do? We've heard stories of how travellers gave money to these women and later saw the woman plop the child down carelessly on some corner while she went to hunt down some smokes. (She always comes back for the child, or so I would assume. It would just be plain bad business strategy to do otherwise). Or what about the millions of tuk-tuk drivers who shout "Hey lady, you want to go somewhere?" literally every step you take. "Hey lady, you're beauty-full. Want to ride tuk-tuk?"
No, worst of all for us were the children hawkers, who would try to sell us books or postcards. If you said "no thank you," they'd intimidate you, or else take a more conversational approach. One kid we began talking to was mad that we wouldn't buy a book. Amy asked if he was in school, and when he said yes, she began talking about his future, and what he might want to be when he grows up. He was furious. "I have no future. You buy book or I have nothing. This is my whole life." I'm still speechless. How could we not help him? But how could we help him? Nothing we could say or do would truly help or change anything. Ugh.
...............
I suppose I should get to the play-by-play, since this is getting pretty long already. Of the four days we spent in Siem Reap, two of them were designated sick days. But we did venture out to see both a sun rise and set over Angkor Wat. I can't really describe Angkor Wat sufficiently, big surprise. Let's just say it's the biggest religious structure in the world. And it's just one of more than thirty ruins in the area. It's a massive pile of stones, balanced and carved into elegant towers and rooms and walls and all that sort of thing. Many of them were similar, but one of my favorites was Da Phrum. Not just because it's where they filmed Tomb Raider. More so because there are massive trees growing out of the walls, and as I sat in a window frame being all deep and thoughtful, a group of hippie Korean ladys in tye-dyed hairbands surrounded me without a word and made me pose for a few photos before moving on. Yes please.
Okay...other highlights: All the ponds around the temples were full of lilys. Maybe this shouldn't have been a highlight compared to the majestic architecture, but I've never seen a legit lily and lily-pad. It was ze best! Also, we saw a tribe of wild monkeys. Never a boring day with wild monkeys around. Oh yeah, and the ruins were a highlight. It was one of the most incredible places I've ever been and I refuse to waste words by trying to explain what can't be. I'll post pictures.
Phew. Anyway, from Siem Reap, we boarded a ridiculous bus. It bounced more than I thought possible. Is it possible to replace rear suspension with anti-suspension? That's the only explanation there can be. The seats also emitted a squishy moist sensation when we sat upon them...so with an eleven hour ride ahead of us, we settled into our unwanted hot-tub. But shoot! Wasn't too long after we succumbed to our plight that ít ended. We got transferred to another bus, much nicer. So what if we were the only white people and therefore were designated entertainment for every Cambodian person on the bus? They loved to pass me a river clam, and watch the curious disgust when the mud-like creature made its way to my tummy. (For those of you who know me, you can see I'm TRYING to like seafood. I just can't. Even red-speckled clams out of a plastic bag on a sticky bus in Cambodia.)
Well, that done and accounted for, we were all of a sudden in Ban Lung! The fabled Ratanakiri Province, land of red dust and...dust. We were drawn here by our travel book, which promised waterfalls and lakes and adventure. So we laid down our sweet- oh sorry, I meant sweaty- heads, ready for some old-fashioned pre-adventure sleep. Next morning, we awoke with plans to find these natural wonders. And since at some point in my life I seem to have bragged about my motorcycle riding skills (mad skills though they are), I nervously accepted the mission to hire a motorcycle and blindly navigate my way to some destination or other. Turns out, the motorcycle was about the best thing in the world. As soon as I was on it, I became one with everything Ricky Bobby has ever preached. "I wanna go FAST!" So I did. And we rode, very lost, through the back country roads of Eastern Cambodia, with huge cumulus nimbus (which, by the way, I learned are the origin of the phrase "riding on cloud 9." In the 1865 or 1869 publication of the 10 types of clouds, cumulus nimbus with their clearly defined edges were number 9. And they are well-loved.) clouds billowing overhead, and sunshine glimmering on endless expanses of green, showing families picking fruit, old men sitting in red plastic chairs, and trees and vines that seem to fight one another to reach the sky, intertwined as they are.
Anyway, we found the lake! It is a beautiful expanse of maybe the cleanest water I've ever seen, filling in the crater of a volcano. There's not one building around the edge, not one person swimming, nothing. It was perfectly preserved, and there for us to play in! We create a minor scandal by stripping down to our bathing suits (Cambodian people typically swim fully clothed) and doing flips off the dock. It was absolutely perfect. Of course, we had to test if perfect could get even better, so we hopped back on the motorcycle, I pretended I knew where I was going, and eventually made it to a waterfall. We parked in the forest, among the labor elephants that moved lazily through the brush, and climbed down to a beautiful waterfall. Taking the opportunity to check something off Amy's bucket list, we climbed up behind it and stared through the massive death sheet. A few vines stared at me until my Tarzan- well, Jane- instinct could no longer resist, and I swung around madly for a minute, but not quite daring to splash into the rocky and (probably) leech-filled water.
We eventually broke away, and had to return the motorcycle and call it quits to the land of the red dust. But it left us the kindest of parting gifts off our next bus, a two-inch layer of thick red dust to cover absolutely everything we own, finding its way into zipped and secured pockets. The cleaning process was not pretty. This new town was, though. It's called Kratie, and winds its way along the edge of our beloved Mekong River. There wasn't too much to do here as far as adventure, but we did spend a few days relaxing and finishing off the colds that still clung to our throats, just walking up and down the small boardwalk. It was on one of these strolls that we saw the kites. A man had a good couple dozen of them attached to his motorcycle, and was sitting all alone in the middle of a grassy square. How could we resist, honestly? The wind was perfect. Before long, we were accompanied by children just getting out of school and wanting to see what the crazy farangs were doing. Soon there were about a dozen kites next to ours, and kids laughing and screaming as they did tricks and we barely kept ours afloat. A few tried to give us lessons, but no dice...
That's about the end of Cambodia...we took a bus to Phnom Penh, stayed one night at the cheapest place we could find, and left along the river next day in a boat, sailing our way to Vietnam.
...............
Random tidbits:
-Asian people, especially Korean, seem to love to take pictures of Amy and I, and do so any time, any where, without asking permission. They just come and stand next to you in different poses while their friends take dozens of shots.
-There's one part of Angkor Wat that depicts the "Battle of the Sea of Milk." I still don't understand it, but I like the name.
-At one bus stop between towns in Cambodia, a group of little girls came sprinting up to Amy and I with their hands held out for hi-5s. I taught them the slapping game and some fancy hi-5 variations, and one of them decided we were best friends, and began holding my hand everywhere I went for the rest of the 30 minutes. When we rode away in the bus, she stood next to my window and blew me kisses. They were so malnourished they had the bloated bellies that you see from hunger. And their teeth, still baby teeth, had rotted out.
-Cambodia has an enormous amount of people that have been victims to landmines. A massive portion of the population walks around missing some limb or other. And there are still countless landmines that haven't been 'found' yet, planted by the Kmer Rouge in the 70's, without being counted or mapped. The only way to find them is by trial and error...
The End
...so Amy and I entered Cambodia on November 24 with the brilliant ambitions to slow our personal plunge into the depths of an empty bank account. Our plans included avoiding getting ripped off anymore, so we were proud to escape the scamming hands of false-visa salesman as we entered the country. Even more, we decided-and this is where certain relatives of mine will need to cover their eyes- to try couchsurfing. For those who maybe haven't heard yet, CouchSurfing is a phenomenon by which one registers on a website, and connects with other like-minded people who are willing to come let you crash for free at their place. Simple as that! And no, NOT sketchy...usually. I mean, I've done couchsurfing before, on the East coast and in Canada. And they were great experiences! That's why I didn't hesitate to get in touch with a dude named Moun in Siem Reap, who ran a reputable guesthouse and was willing to give us a patch of tile floor for a few days.
All that was fine, no problem. Moun himself was great and kind, and we really didn't care if we had to sleep on the floor. In fact, it wasn't until the second or third night, when the amount of grasshoppers coming in from the open window near my head was escalating to unbearable amounts. And when the bathroom that we had to share with the all-male staff two stories below began to reek of mildew and spawn mosquitos and a solitary massive cockroach (which decided to help Amy wash her hair). And when we both got horrible colds that took our voices and turned them into chainsaw-sandpaper growls. And when our Dutch rooommate got sick and began retching loudly through the night, which itself refused to cool down below 80 degrees freaking Fahrenheit. THEN it was too much.
But honestly, I can't complain about that. Siem Reap was a place where the inhabitants took every part of your soul capable of guilt and shoved it in the air for all to see. Anytime we sat down to a meal women with undersized infants on their híp would come up with their hands clasped together and stare, wordless. A shake of the head did nothing. They stood and watched the fork go from plate to mouth and back again. What should we do? We've heard stories of how travellers gave money to these women and later saw the woman plop the child down carelessly on some corner while she went to hunt down some smokes. (She always comes back for the child, or so I would assume. It would just be plain bad business strategy to do otherwise). Or what about the millions of tuk-tuk drivers who shout "Hey lady, you want to go somewhere?" literally every step you take. "Hey lady, you're beauty-full. Want to ride tuk-tuk?"
No, worst of all for us were the children hawkers, who would try to sell us books or postcards. If you said "no thank you," they'd intimidate you, or else take a more conversational approach. One kid we began talking to was mad that we wouldn't buy a book. Amy asked if he was in school, and when he said yes, she began talking about his future, and what he might want to be when he grows up. He was furious. "I have no future. You buy book or I have nothing. This is my whole life." I'm still speechless. How could we not help him? But how could we help him? Nothing we could say or do would truly help or change anything. Ugh.
...............
I suppose I should get to the play-by-play, since this is getting pretty long already. Of the four days we spent in Siem Reap, two of them were designated sick days. But we did venture out to see both a sun rise and set over Angkor Wat. I can't really describe Angkor Wat sufficiently, big surprise. Let's just say it's the biggest religious structure in the world. And it's just one of more than thirty ruins in the area. It's a massive pile of stones, balanced and carved into elegant towers and rooms and walls and all that sort of thing. Many of them were similar, but one of my favorites was Da Phrum. Not just because it's where they filmed Tomb Raider. More so because there are massive trees growing out of the walls, and as I sat in a window frame being all deep and thoughtful, a group of hippie Korean ladys in tye-dyed hairbands surrounded me without a word and made me pose for a few photos before moving on. Yes please.
Okay...other highlights: All the ponds around the temples were full of lilys. Maybe this shouldn't have been a highlight compared to the majestic architecture, but I've never seen a legit lily and lily-pad. It was ze best! Also, we saw a tribe of wild monkeys. Never a boring day with wild monkeys around. Oh yeah, and the ruins were a highlight. It was one of the most incredible places I've ever been and I refuse to waste words by trying to explain what can't be. I'll post pictures.
Phew. Anyway, from Siem Reap, we boarded a ridiculous bus. It bounced more than I thought possible. Is it possible to replace rear suspension with anti-suspension? That's the only explanation there can be. The seats also emitted a squishy moist sensation when we sat upon them...so with an eleven hour ride ahead of us, we settled into our unwanted hot-tub. But shoot! Wasn't too long after we succumbed to our plight that ít ended. We got transferred to another bus, much nicer. So what if we were the only white people and therefore were designated entertainment for every Cambodian person on the bus? They loved to pass me a river clam, and watch the curious disgust when the mud-like creature made its way to my tummy. (For those of you who know me, you can see I'm TRYING to like seafood. I just can't. Even red-speckled clams out of a plastic bag on a sticky bus in Cambodia.)
Well, that done and accounted for, we were all of a sudden in Ban Lung! The fabled Ratanakiri Province, land of red dust and...dust. We were drawn here by our travel book, which promised waterfalls and lakes and adventure. So we laid down our sweet- oh sorry, I meant sweaty- heads, ready for some old-fashioned pre-adventure sleep. Next morning, we awoke with plans to find these natural wonders. And since at some point in my life I seem to have bragged about my motorcycle riding skills (mad skills though they are), I nervously accepted the mission to hire a motorcycle and blindly navigate my way to some destination or other. Turns out, the motorcycle was about the best thing in the world. As soon as I was on it, I became one with everything Ricky Bobby has ever preached. "I wanna go FAST!" So I did. And we rode, very lost, through the back country roads of Eastern Cambodia, with huge cumulus nimbus (which, by the way, I learned are the origin of the phrase "riding on cloud 9." In the 1865 or 1869 publication of the 10 types of clouds, cumulus nimbus with their clearly defined edges were number 9. And they are well-loved.) clouds billowing overhead, and sunshine glimmering on endless expanses of green, showing families picking fruit, old men sitting in red plastic chairs, and trees and vines that seem to fight one another to reach the sky, intertwined as they are.
Anyway, we found the lake! It is a beautiful expanse of maybe the cleanest water I've ever seen, filling in the crater of a volcano. There's not one building around the edge, not one person swimming, nothing. It was perfectly preserved, and there for us to play in! We create a minor scandal by stripping down to our bathing suits (Cambodian people typically swim fully clothed) and doing flips off the dock. It was absolutely perfect. Of course, we had to test if perfect could get even better, so we hopped back on the motorcycle, I pretended I knew where I was going, and eventually made it to a waterfall. We parked in the forest, among the labor elephants that moved lazily through the brush, and climbed down to a beautiful waterfall. Taking the opportunity to check something off Amy's bucket list, we climbed up behind it and stared through the massive death sheet. A few vines stared at me until my Tarzan- well, Jane- instinct could no longer resist, and I swung around madly for a minute, but not quite daring to splash into the rocky and (probably) leech-filled water.
We eventually broke away, and had to return the motorcycle and call it quits to the land of the red dust. But it left us the kindest of parting gifts off our next bus, a two-inch layer of thick red dust to cover absolutely everything we own, finding its way into zipped and secured pockets. The cleaning process was not pretty. This new town was, though. It's called Kratie, and winds its way along the edge of our beloved Mekong River. There wasn't too much to do here as far as adventure, but we did spend a few days relaxing and finishing off the colds that still clung to our throats, just walking up and down the small boardwalk. It was on one of these strolls that we saw the kites. A man had a good couple dozen of them attached to his motorcycle, and was sitting all alone in the middle of a grassy square. How could we resist, honestly? The wind was perfect. Before long, we were accompanied by children just getting out of school and wanting to see what the crazy farangs were doing. Soon there were about a dozen kites next to ours, and kids laughing and screaming as they did tricks and we barely kept ours afloat. A few tried to give us lessons, but no dice...
That's about the end of Cambodia...we took a bus to Phnom Penh, stayed one night at the cheapest place we could find, and left along the river next day in a boat, sailing our way to Vietnam.
...............
Random tidbits:
-Asian people, especially Korean, seem to love to take pictures of Amy and I, and do so any time, any where, without asking permission. They just come and stand next to you in different poses while their friends take dozens of shots.
-There's one part of Angkor Wat that depicts the "Battle of the Sea of Milk." I still don't understand it, but I like the name.
-At one bus stop between towns in Cambodia, a group of little girls came sprinting up to Amy and I with their hands held out for hi-5s. I taught them the slapping game and some fancy hi-5 variations, and one of them decided we were best friends, and began holding my hand everywhere I went for the rest of the 30 minutes. When we rode away in the bus, she stood next to my window and blew me kisses. They were so malnourished they had the bloated bellies that you see from hunger. And their teeth, still baby teeth, had rotted out.
-Cambodia has an enormous amount of people that have been victims to landmines. A massive portion of the population walks around missing some limb or other. And there are still countless landmines that haven't been 'found' yet, planted by the Kmer Rouge in the 70's, without being counted or mapped. The only way to find them is by trial and error...
The End
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