Reflecting On An Amazing Vacation

It's so much easier to write about a trip while you're on it--that's a tip for all you bloggers out there who aspire to document your travels. And of course, I finally get the motivation to share some post-vacation thoughts just as Sarah walks in the door from a 12-hour shift in the operating room.

Probably the biggest surprise of our adventure was the difficulty we had getting back into some semblance of normal sleep patterns when we got home. Now mind you, I spent 17 days in Thailand last year (and it occurs to me that I should turn the emails I wrote about that experience into a retroactive blog, too), and when I got home from that trip, I had no sleep problems. But for a good 5 or 6 nights after our return, Sarah and I would awaken at 4 or 4:30 am, wired to the gills, talking our heads off and even watching movie snippets. Naturally, by about 6:30 or 7, we were exhausted again and would crash until 11 or 12. And so it went, both of us feeling totally disoriented by the persistence of our out-of-body states.

Now that we have our wits, and our energy, about us again, here's a rundown of some of the undocumented aspects of our 19 days, which often present inherent contrasts:

1) The crowds at the main Angkor ruins, while they didn't exactly take us by surprise, proved to be suffocating more often than not. Combined with the 90+ degree heat and 80+ percent humidity, it made for some pretty miserable moments. Arriving at Angkor Wat at sunrise, you'd think you had just walked over from your room at the Disneyland Hotel. A steady stream of buses, cars and tuk tuks on the road to the temple; packed lines at the admission booths outside the complex; and throngs of camera-wielding maniacs jockeying for position along the moat, trying to catch that special silhouetted shot of Angkor Wat's famed towers. Things don't get a whole lot more manageable at Bayon or Ta Prohm either.

However, head further from Siem Reap, to the Roluos Group, Kbal Spean (aka the River of 1000 Lingas), Bantei Srei, or best of all, Beng Melea, and you're rewarded with much more solitary--and equally visually arresting--experiences. There's more room to explore, more quiet to relish, fewer peddlers to contend with and, perhaps best of all, tourist-free photos to be had. If you go, and you only have one day to visit temples, ignore the common wisdom--hit those out-of-town ruins and skip the more popular circuit.

2) There's a certain amount of guilt that comes with visiting developing countries, most notably the uncomfortable feeling that you're gawking at (and relentlessly photographing) poverty. Everywhere we went, we were greeted as if we were Bill and Melinda Gates, the assumption being that we could literally rescue entire villages from their fates. You can't help but feel the sobering impact of such treatment and begin to question whether your presence is in the best interest of the culture you're unwittingly homogenizing. The constant barrage of weathered elderly folks and too-young children selling useless tourist drivel in the streets feeds the guilt over our exposing them to us.

That said, you also can't help but come away with the sense that by seeing how Cambodians and rural Vietnamese people live with an appreciation and embrace of the practical that is beyond the comprehension of most Americans, your newfound awareness will help to nudge our fat-and-happy culture--or at least your little piece of it--toward a more enlightened state. Of course, finding out upon arrival in Asia that our country had elected its first African American president, and an incredibly dignified and oratorically skilled one at that, only fueled our understandably smug feelings of social responsibility.

3) Getting around the Mekong Delta in any kind of hurry is simply not possible. Driving in Vietnam is a seeming competition to see who can be the biggest obstructions and most relentless honkers. There is nothing that either Sarah or I would describe as a freeway, so traffic, even when it's moving, slogs along. Going 150 kilometers takes about 4 hours, which places serious limits on day trips. We learned that the hard way, opting to wing a day-trip that, while still fascinating and enjoyable, really undervalued the region. If we had it to do all over again, we'd have done a riverboat cruise, which several travelers we met said is a fabulous experience.

But skimping on the Mekong Delta meant we were able to spend more time on Phu Quoc, which is something far fewer visitors to Vietnam make a priority of doing. Too bad for them, because Phu Quoc is a wonderful island getaway that also provides a scaled down picture of Vietnam--what with its local fishermen, pepper and fish sauce factories, local street scene, and dreamy beach settings. And while there are certainly more cultural benefits to be gleaned from a Mekong program, Phu Quoc--and in particular the Mango Bay Resort, where we stayed--presents an ideal getaway from the exhaustion of international travel. We could definitely have traded our time in Halong Bay for a more satisfying Mekong experience (more on that later), but hey, into every trip, some mistakes must fall.

4) The two main cities of Vietnam each present their own fascinating dichotomies. Take Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon); on the surface, it's a forgettable city, with all the architectural charm of a Costco. Third-worldish trappings are everywhere--from shanty-like homes and businesses squeezed between more modern neighbors, to prominent roads and sidewalks that are in literal rubble, to prostitutes and their motor bike-riding pimps approaching tourists. Yet it's also the economic engine of the country, and the capitalistic spirit that Vietnam is embracing is at the core of the city's heart. People are open-minded and friendly, English is spoken widely, and young people wear the latest styles, chat on cutting edge devices, and hang out in chic little cafes.

Hanoi, meanwhile, is a far more stately city, with a lot of beautiful architecture, cleaner and more defined roadways, pristine parks, and numerous upscale international hotels. But it also reflects the nation's communist roots, with a much more subdued (i.e. controlled) tone. People are less outwardly friendly, government officials often don't speak English (or at least, they pretend not to), and public behavior is noticeably more, uh, proper. Public affection, from what I saw, was limited to couples sitting arm-in-arm on benches along Hoan Kiem Lake in the evenings.

So, to sum up, while Hanoi is clearly the more visually appealing city, Ho Chi Minh City is where the fresh energy is. If I had to live in one or the other, Ho Chi Minh City would be the easy choice.

I could go on, but I've promised myself that I'd ensure that this blog remained eminently readable. Sarah and I hope that sharing our experiences in this way has helped to personalize our trip for all of you, and that it somehow inspires you to a) travel to far-off lands, and b) write about your adventures when you do so. And if you do, please include us among those you notify, as one good turn deserves another. Besides, I always appreciate a new distraction that will keep me from what I really need to be doing.

Goodbye, Vietnam. Goodbye, Cambodia. You came and went all too quickly, as we knew you would. Thank you for opening our eyes a little wider, and making us feel more connected with the amazing assortment of peoples that call this little rock drifting through space home. Perhaps we'll be back someday. In the meantime, we'll start planning our next great international adventure...