I knew all along that Halong Bay was probably the one place we planned to visit that would disappoint, and I wasn't, uh, disappointed. Let me clarify, though: It's not the bay itself that disappoints. The seascape filled with karst limestome formations rising from the water is a sight to behold, no doubt. It's like floating through a prehistoric park. And there are certainly worse ways to spend one's time than sitting on the deck of a junk taking it in. It's HOW the Vietnamese show you Halong Bay that's the problem.
It wasn't long after our plodding 3-hour-drive from Hanoi (complete with a rest at one those classically Asian road stops where they try to impress tourists with vast stores filled with jewelry, ceramics and stone carvings, much of which are created on site) that the trouble started. First sign: a port cluttered with more tour buses than should be allowed to congregate in one country much less a single parking lot. After boarding, our guide (who actually gave us a great rundown on the history of Northern Vietnam during our drive), called all the men together. His purpose: To inform us there were only two double bed rooms available for four couples, meaning two of us had to be in rooms with twin beds. This, of course, did not sit well with anyone, as we all had specifically booked doubles. There was no explanation of how this mixup occurred, but one of the women on board, who is from Vietnam originally, overheard a conversation on the dock that involved someone saying, "just put them all on the cheap boat." (As an aside, this woman said she'd really been looking forward to returning to her homeland, but had been intensely disappointed by the Vietnamese people--she had overheard derisive mockery of tourists everywhere she went.)
Being a man of principle, as you all are no doubt aware, I offered right away to sacrifice the double bed (much to Sarah's initial consternation) in exchange for some good karma. The remaining three men participated in a drawing, and we were on our way. The following 24 hours was marked by us all being shuttled through a series of Disneyland-like tourist attractions in which we spent most of our time waiting in a constant line of people shuffling along a concrete pathway. Yes, the caves and the island-top views and the kayaking sites were fun for the eyes, but the whole thing had a very canned quality that was off-putting to almost everyone on the cruise. On board, the rooms were nowhere near as nice as advertised (with bathrooms that smelled too much like a sewer), and there was minimal deck space, with only 7-8 deck chairs for 14 people. The food was very decent, with lots of fresh seafood, but nothing was dressed up with any sauces or other flair.
Adding to the zing of the cruise was the fact that two of the couples--us included--had booked for trips on entirely different boats. No word on what the deal was there.
The highlight of the trip was meeting the other of those wrong-boat couples, Alyssa and Spyros, who hail from Rome. We bonded with them immediately and basically remained in a little cluster for the entire 24-hour comedy, making the proceedings more bearable by mercilessly poking fun at everything we could think of. (UPDATE: Alyssa reports that the boat they were supposed to be on hasn't actually sailed since an incident in 2007.)
After returning to Hanoi, we joyfully reconvened with our new friends for an evening of walking through Hanoi's old quarter, seeing the famous water puppet performance that's all but an obligation when visiting Hanoi, and eating the most memorable meal of our trip so far at Cha Ca Va Long, a 100-year-old eatery that serves only one dish: a delictable sautee of monkfish, herbs, saffron, scallions and dill that's cooked at your table and served over an absolutely delicious bowl of freshly made soy noodles, with peanuts, cilantro and fish sauce on the side to spice things up. The four of us gobbled up the delicious concoction like we hadn't eaten in months, and Sarah awoke this morning craving it again, hence we'll be returning for lunch today.
And so we begin our final full day of the journey, during which we will tour central Hanoi by foot, cap off the day with our anticipated dinner at La Verticale, a French/Vietnamese restaurant that the hotelier in Phu Quoc said would be our best meal of the trip. (This is the same man who enthusiastically recommended Cha Ca Va Long, so he has our complete trust.)
(UPDATE 12/17: La Verticale was an admittedly interesting dining experience--and, at $120 for the two of us, astronomically expensive by Vietnamese standards. But it was not all it was cracked up to be. This was largely because Sarah was under the weather the last couple of days of our trip, so she was hardly an enthusiastic participant in the meal. However, one problem was that the unexpected treats they bring diners to begin the meal regardless of what they order were far more memorable than the main dishes. Conclusion: It did not come close to unseating Cha Ca Va Long as the best meal of our trip.)
Hopefully, I'll be able to post some Vietnam photos tonight. Until then...
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Coming into the Home Stretch
This morning we find ourselves in Hanoi, spending the early hours awaiting our ride to Halong Bay for our overnight cruise aboard the Jewel of the Bay junk. After a surprisingly restful night train from Lao Cai, near Sapa, we're in the lobby of the Zephyr Hotel, where we will spend the last two nights of our trip before flying home Saturday.
Sapa--like pretty much everywhere we've been--proved to be a mystical experience. We trekked from Sapa to nearby Hmong villages, led by our guide, Maos, a 25-year-old Hmong woman who was a fascinating window into the daily lives of these tribal mountain people. (Alas, she said the scenario we experienced with the old woman at the lake was a common one in Sapa--poverty breeds desperation.) Not only did she describe much of what we saw, filling in details we'd never have known ourselves, she also answered all of our many questions about her own life. She was born atop a mountain that her mother scaled in order to give birth in a sacred place, and when she popped out, the infant Maos immediately gashed her skull open on a rock, and she still has a doozy of a scar on her scalp to prove it. By the age of 9, she was spending mornings hacking her way through thick bamboo forests, covered in jungle spiders, to collect firewood with her mother. Afternoons were spent in the fields, helping to tend the rice harvest, and at the end of the day, she helped her mother prepare dinner. She still squeezes in much of this hard labor around her guide duties--which she fulfills only because she was able to pick up sufficient English by talking to tourists. Schools arrived in her village too late for her, but Maos is looking forward to sending her two children, ages 2 and 4, to school in the coming years. It may mean a better living for the family.
She and Sarah became quite tight during our two days together, even walking hand-in-hand at times. I know we will always look back on her with fondness, wondering what has become of her life, and that of her children. (Her husband is the equivalent of a truant officer in their village--which, incidentally, has no electricity or running water.) We'll also think of others that we met--especially 12-year-old Ca, a beautiful young woman who, because she's the youngest of her family, is duty-bound to remain home caring for her parents and grandparents while her older siblings attend school in Sapa and Hanoi.
Sarah is now waiting in the hotel cafe for me to join her for breakfast before our ride to Halong Bay arrives...I'll try to fill in further details when we return to Hanoi tomorrow evening.
Sapa--like pretty much everywhere we've been--proved to be a mystical experience. We trekked from Sapa to nearby Hmong villages, led by our guide, Maos, a 25-year-old Hmong woman who was a fascinating window into the daily lives of these tribal mountain people. (Alas, she said the scenario we experienced with the old woman at the lake was a common one in Sapa--poverty breeds desperation.) Not only did she describe much of what we saw, filling in details we'd never have known ourselves, she also answered all of our many questions about her own life. She was born atop a mountain that her mother scaled in order to give birth in a sacred place, and when she popped out, the infant Maos immediately gashed her skull open on a rock, and she still has a doozy of a scar on her scalp to prove it. By the age of 9, she was spending mornings hacking her way through thick bamboo forests, covered in jungle spiders, to collect firewood with her mother. Afternoons were spent in the fields, helping to tend the rice harvest, and at the end of the day, she helped her mother prepare dinner. She still squeezes in much of this hard labor around her guide duties--which she fulfills only because she was able to pick up sufficient English by talking to tourists. Schools arrived in her village too late for her, but Maos is looking forward to sending her two children, ages 2 and 4, to school in the coming years. It may mean a better living for the family.
She and Sarah became quite tight during our two days together, even walking hand-in-hand at times. I know we will always look back on her with fondness, wondering what has become of her life, and that of her children. (Her husband is the equivalent of a truant officer in their village--which, incidentally, has no electricity or running water.) We'll also think of others that we met--especially 12-year-old Ca, a beautiful young woman who, because she's the youngest of her family, is duty-bound to remain home caring for her parents and grandparents while her older siblings attend school in Sapa and Hanoi.
Sarah is now waiting in the hotel cafe for me to join her for breakfast before our ride to Halong Bay arrives...I'll try to fill in further details when we return to Hanoi tomorrow evening.
Monday, November 17, 2008
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Our Sapa Trek
The computers here at our hotel in Sapa, in the mountainous Northwest region of Vietnam, are painfully slow, so I'll keep this brief. Can't post photos because I can't use my laptop (which, incidentally, has been working absolutely fine the past week--completely mysterious), but a brief story from this morning on the streets of Sapa is too good not to share. So we're killing some time before our afternoon trek to a nearby village--having breakfast, shopping for the usual crap, taking in the sights. As if I have to point this out, as we walk we are constantly barraged by relentless peddlers of tourist crap, this time members of the Hmong hill tribe, who have discovered the pot of gold at the end of the tourism rainbow. All along, I'm training Sarah on how to be cold and mean, which is the only way to discourage them. "No. No! We don't want to buy anything. Please stop following us, or we will definitely not by anything from you!."
So we end up on a park bench, looking out over a small lake, the cloud-shrouded mountains in the distance, and the colorful buildings of Sapa just beyond the lake. As we're sitting there, an old Hmong woman walks up to us and starts offering us various drugs--and not the prescription type. I'm telling her "no" forcefully, and she pulls out a razor/knife with a handle, and even though she's quite old, I'm thinking, "Do I have something to worry about here?" I tell Sarah we need to get up and move, and just as we do, she realizes her backpack, which was sitting on the bench, opposite of the old woman, is gone. We turn around and see another much younger Hmong woman walking away with Sarah's bag. Naturally, I chase her down, tell her to hand it over, and grab it from her as she's smiling and laughing the whole time.
In other words, we were nearly mugged at razor-point by an old Hmong woman and her younger accomplice. This is stuff you can't make up, folks.
Anyway, our day of trekking (with our private guide, a 25-year-old Hmong villager named Mas, who lives an incredibly hard life filled with trek guiding, bamboo gathering, and caring for her mother-in-law) was wonderful, and tonight we picked up a couple of great lacquer paintings by a local artist before having a delicious Italian dinner at a restaurant down the street from our hotel. We hit the trail with Mas tomorrow morning again, this time for about 9-10 miles of hiking through several hill villages.
So we end up on a park bench, looking out over a small lake, the cloud-shrouded mountains in the distance, and the colorful buildings of Sapa just beyond the lake. As we're sitting there, an old Hmong woman walks up to us and starts offering us various drugs--and not the prescription type. I'm telling her "no" forcefully, and she pulls out a razor/knife with a handle, and even though she's quite old, I'm thinking, "Do I have something to worry about here?" I tell Sarah we need to get up and move, and just as we do, she realizes her backpack, which was sitting on the bench, opposite of the old woman, is gone. We turn around and see another much younger Hmong woman walking away with Sarah's bag. Naturally, I chase her down, tell her to hand it over, and grab it from her as she's smiling and laughing the whole time.
In other words, we were nearly mugged at razor-point by an old Hmong woman and her younger accomplice. This is stuff you can't make up, folks.
Anyway, our day of trekking (with our private guide, a 25-year-old Hmong villager named Mas, who lives an incredibly hard life filled with trek guiding, bamboo gathering, and caring for her mother-in-law) was wonderful, and tonight we picked up a couple of great lacquer paintings by a local artist before having a delicious Italian dinner at a restaurant down the street from our hotel. We hit the trail with Mas tomorrow morning again, this time for about 9-10 miles of hiking through several hill villages.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
More images of Cambodia
I know, I know. We left Cambodia almost a week ago, and you want to see Vietnam. Well, I'm at the whim of our schedule, which has been relentless today. We arrived in Saigon from Phu Quoc
at about 2 pm and then headed out for food and sightseeing. The food search wasn't so fruitful, but if "sightseeing" can be translated to "buying everything in sight," then we we were a smashing success. We got back to the hotel just in time to put on the clothes we had made while we were gone and head out for dinner at La Fourchette, a wonderful French bistro that turned into a festive meal with some Dutch expatriates and then drinking and live music at a great Irish pub called Sheridan's. Not a great dirty martini, but the little acoustic trio did take requests, and they played some mean CCR.
So here I am, bleary-eyed at nearly 3 am to satisfy your thirst for photos...well, okay, my thirst to provide you with photos...so a snippet of shots from Vietnam will have to wait until my next session...in the meantime, enjoy these...
Incidentally, I've been meaning to report that everyone here wants to know if we like Obama (and they do), but no one has any understanding of the Prop 8 fiasco. You mention gay marriage and they look at you like your head just spun around a la Linda Blair.
More amazing stuff from Ta Prohm. Oh, and to clarify, these trees, which I'd previously identified mistakenly as fig trees, are actually cotton trees, or so the guide told us.
Cambodian guides like to point out vines that double as swings. This is one of several such moments captured in megapixels.
The waters of the River of a Thousand Lingas rushes over the carving that gives the river its name. A linga, for those who don't know, is the, uh, male reproductive organ. (The female is ioni.)
On the hike down from the River of a Thousand Lingas, I spotted this incredible colony of termites, and I aggravated this soldier just so I could show him off to all of you.
One of the many intricate sandstone carvings that have somehow been preserved at the temple known as Banteay Srei.
As we left a more minor temple, I caught this slice-of-Cambodia image. As Sarah said, "there's another one of those freakin' ubiquitous red chairs." I have to admit, there are a LOT of red plastic chairs in Southeast Asia. Someone look into that.
The dramatic North Gate into the city of Angkor Thom, which we drove through on our way back from Banteay Srei. Angkor Thom was the central complex in an ancient city that once was home to a million people.
On the way to far-off Beng Mealea, we stopped for some sticky rice and were treated to a few warm moments with these kids, who were ecstatic to have Sarah giving them bubbles and colored pencils and coloring books. (Great advice from Todd O'Leary on bringing lots of goodies to hand out to kids--that has been a life-saver.)
One of the more striking images from Beng Mealea, a jungle temple that, because it's 65 kilometers from Siem Reap, is much less visited--and thus a much more intimate experience--then Ta Prohm. Discovered just a few years ago, this incredible temple ruin is still very much as it was when it was found.
Beng Mealea is awesome in scale--this was just one room in a multi-chambered ruin that also featured 3 layers of moats surrounding the main structure.
Another one of those vine-swinging pictures I warned you about. This was a room at Beng Mealea you had to climb into to see. Sarah was very proud of the way she caught the light on the pillar echoing the color of my newly acquired Cambodian pants.
This park employee led us around Beng Mealea (a great service, as it would be easy to get lost or injured or both), and he's in hysterics here because he had just shown us that a huge spider above us was sleeping by GRABBING IT IN HIS BARE HANDS and holding it for us, at which point I thought Sarah would leap over the walls of the complex to get away. I thought I'd save you the spider image, which isn't nearly as wonderful as his smile.
A gorgeous pond filled with fully blooming Lotus blossoms outside the walls of Beng Mealea topped off an unbelievable couple of hours.
Then, on the way back to the car, Sarah stopped to drop some money in this toothless man's pot and take his photo.
After Beng Mealea, we headed to the Ruolos Group of temple ruins, and on the way into the best of these, Bakong, we admired this colorful pagoda.
This demonic lion's head was the highlight of our brief and memorable tour of Bakong.
I take that back--this kid's cardboard hat was the highlight of our brief and memorable tour of Bakong.
Sadly, it came time to say goodbye to the warm and utterly helpful staff at Hotel Borann. Mr. Bunna, the second from the left, was a wealth of information, and spoke English quite well.
Before we left town, we stopped for a drink at the Butterfly Garden restaurant, which is literally a butterfly garden. The owners let all the butterflies go a few times a week, and then purchase a replacement collection from local children, above, preparing to release their bounty. It's a heartwarming little arrangement they have in a country where too many kids are forced to peddle crap to tourists.
A wonderful last image of Cambodia--one of the just-released butterflies, sunning its wings on my index finger. A perfect symbol of hope for a people who deserve it as much as any on Earth.
As I said, images of Vietnam will come ASAP--tomorrow we fly to Hanoi, where we catch the night train to the mountain town of Sapa, and then it's on to a two-day cruise on a junk on Halong Bay before wrapping up the trip in Hanoi. I have no idea what kind of connectivity awaits us in Sapa, but it could very well be Thursday before I can post again. If so, I'll have lots to share...
at about 2 pm and then headed out for food and sightseeing. The food search wasn't so fruitful, but if "sightseeing" can be translated to "buying everything in sight," then we we were a smashing success. We got back to the hotel just in time to put on the clothes we had made while we were gone and head out for dinner at La Fourchette, a wonderful French bistro that turned into a festive meal with some Dutch expatriates and then drinking and live music at a great Irish pub called Sheridan's. Not a great dirty martini, but the little acoustic trio did take requests, and they played some mean CCR.
So here I am, bleary-eyed at nearly 3 am to satisfy your thirst for photos...well, okay, my thirst to provide you with photos...so a snippet of shots from Vietnam will have to wait until my next session...in the meantime, enjoy these...
Incidentally, I've been meaning to report that everyone here wants to know if we like Obama (and they do), but no one has any understanding of the Prop 8 fiasco. You mention gay marriage and they look at you like your head just spun around a la Linda Blair.
More amazing stuff from Ta Prohm. Oh, and to clarify, these trees, which I'd previously identified mistakenly as fig trees, are actually cotton trees, or so the guide told us.
Cambodian guides like to point out vines that double as swings. This is one of several such moments captured in megapixels.
The waters of the River of a Thousand Lingas rushes over the carving that gives the river its name. A linga, for those who don't know, is the, uh, male reproductive organ. (The female is ioni.)
On the hike down from the River of a Thousand Lingas, I spotted this incredible colony of termites, and I aggravated this soldier just so I could show him off to all of you.
One of the many intricate sandstone carvings that have somehow been preserved at the temple known as Banteay Srei.
As we left a more minor temple, I caught this slice-of-Cambodia image. As Sarah said, "there's another one of those freakin' ubiquitous red chairs." I have to admit, there are a LOT of red plastic chairs in Southeast Asia. Someone look into that.
The dramatic North Gate into the city of Angkor Thom, which we drove through on our way back from Banteay Srei. Angkor Thom was the central complex in an ancient city that once was home to a million people.
On the way to far-off Beng Mealea, we stopped for some sticky rice and were treated to a few warm moments with these kids, who were ecstatic to have Sarah giving them bubbles and colored pencils and coloring books. (Great advice from Todd O'Leary on bringing lots of goodies to hand out to kids--that has been a life-saver.)
One of the more striking images from Beng Mealea, a jungle temple that, because it's 65 kilometers from Siem Reap, is much less visited--and thus a much more intimate experience--then Ta Prohm. Discovered just a few years ago, this incredible temple ruin is still very much as it was when it was found.
Beng Mealea is awesome in scale--this was just one room in a multi-chambered ruin that also featured 3 layers of moats surrounding the main structure.
Another one of those vine-swinging pictures I warned you about. This was a room at Beng Mealea you had to climb into to see. Sarah was very proud of the way she caught the light on the pillar echoing the color of my newly acquired Cambodian pants.
This park employee led us around Beng Mealea (a great service, as it would be easy to get lost or injured or both), and he's in hysterics here because he had just shown us that a huge spider above us was sleeping by GRABBING IT IN HIS BARE HANDS and holding it for us, at which point I thought Sarah would leap over the walls of the complex to get away. I thought I'd save you the spider image, which isn't nearly as wonderful as his smile.
A gorgeous pond filled with fully blooming Lotus blossoms outside the walls of Beng Mealea topped off an unbelievable couple of hours.
Then, on the way back to the car, Sarah stopped to drop some money in this toothless man's pot and take his photo.
After Beng Mealea, we headed to the Ruolos Group of temple ruins, and on the way into the best of these, Bakong, we admired this colorful pagoda.
This demonic lion's head was the highlight of our brief and memorable tour of Bakong.
I take that back--this kid's cardboard hat was the highlight of our brief and memorable tour of Bakong.
Sadly, it came time to say goodbye to the warm and utterly helpful staff at Hotel Borann. Mr. Bunna, the second from the left, was a wealth of information, and spoke English quite well.
Before we left town, we stopped for a drink at the Butterfly Garden restaurant, which is literally a butterfly garden. The owners let all the butterflies go a few times a week, and then purchase a replacement collection from local children, above, preparing to release their bounty. It's a heartwarming little arrangement they have in a country where too many kids are forced to peddle crap to tourists.
A wonderful last image of Cambodia--one of the just-released butterflies, sunning its wings on my index finger. A perfect symbol of hope for a people who deserve it as much as any on Earth.As I said, images of Vietnam will come ASAP--tomorrow we fly to Hanoi, where we catch the night train to the mountain town of Sapa, and then it's on to a two-day cruise on a junk on Halong Bay before wrapping up the trip in Hanoi. I have no idea what kind of connectivity awaits us in Sapa, but it could very well be Thursday before I can post again. If so, I'll have lots to share...
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Picture time!
At long last, I got my act together to compress some of our best photos and share them. Naturally, some of you will be subjected to much more than this when we get back. But we didn't want to leave the rest of you unpunished. ;-)
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
One of the blind children who so affected us at the Kroumar Thmey school in Siem Reap.
Outskirts of a floating village on Tonle Sap, just south of Siem Reap.
A woman cleaning fish in the floating village on Tonle Sap.
A particularly ravishing and mysterious shot of Sarah, if I do say so myself.
This man was napping outside the floating village's school, and the kids got quite a kick out of it.
I'm especially proud of this shot of the Cambodian flag atop our boat on Tonle Sap.
Our Tonle Sap guide took this great shot of us, looking so happy everyone around us wants to puke.
The unforgettable sight of Angkor Wat at sunrise--after elbowing my way through the throngs.
Our Angkor guide, Rataa, did a fabulous job explaining the significance of the bas-reliefs.
A well-preserved section of one of the bas-reliefs depicting a battle sequence. Note the elephant.
Our favorite of the many bas-relief shots filling my hard drive.
One of the haunting faces that make up the beautiful ruins of Bayon in Angkor Thom.
A little trick photo our guide taught us while we toured Bayon.
A glimpse of the power of nature at Ta Prohm, "The Jungle Temple."
This was the biggest spider either of us had ever seen--about 8-10 inches from tip to tip. Yikes!
I had many more photos ready to post, but the wireless connection at our resort is totally unreliable, and I came here to get AWAY from that feeling of wanting to throw your laptop into the ocean, so I'll get the rest up once we're back in Saigon tomorrow evening...
Now we're off for a morning on a motorbike. I hope Sarah doesn't fall off the back. (Just kidding, Ramona!)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Morning on the Gulf of Thailand
First, my apologies to any loyal readers who were disappointed to visit the blog and find nothing on the Mekong Delta and also no pics, contrary to my earlier promise. When we got back to our room Tueday night, the internet connection in the hotel was down, so my hands were tied. Despite what you may read about how wired SE Asia is, things like internet and phone connectivity are less than dependable. Alas, pictures will still have to wait until I can take the time to choose the right pictures and resize them...I promise they're coming soon!
I'll get to the setting hinted at in today's title, but first a few words about Saigon and the Mekong Delta...
Our day on the Delta was definitely worth the money, but was also far short of what either of us would have liked to have experienced. The problem with day trips to the Mekong is that they're not nearly long enough to get far enough into the delta to really see life on the river. We got glimpses of it during a couple of hours chugging up and down the channels around Vinh Long and Cai Be Floating Market (which was really just a handful of boats, most of which were selling fish). But we did get to see a few of the things they like to show tourists, like the way families in the region have been making coconut and rice candy for generations. Very interesting stuff. Then we had a very local lunch that consisted of a huge fried river fish from which you pick off meat and roll it in rice paper with veggies. Sarah had a hard time with the scaliness and fishy-ness. While it was something I'd never order, it was a fascitating meal experience.
Most of the day was spent driving in and out of the Saigon area--about 3 hours each way. Saigon isn't an easy city to get into or out of. It's a swirling mass of more than 8 million people, seemingly all of them on motorbikes, moving like a great school of fish, swarming to go through and around whatever obstacles are in their way. At major interesections, there are sometimes signals, but it doesn't matter. Everyone seems to do what they want, so crossing the street is like playing a more organic version of Frogger--meaning it's not lurchy and harrowing as you'd expect. It's more like you just calmly weave your way through the ongoing traffic, which slows and adapts like the school of fish to get around you. (That said, 2 people a day die in traffic incidents in Saigon.)
We had dinner at a great little place called the Black Cat, where I had (believe it or not) an excellent turkey pot pie and Sarah had (even more unbelievably) a very tasty Reuben. This after a dinner the previous night at a very good Cajun place (!). And we'll top it off Saturday night, our last in Saigon, by dining in what looks to be a great French bistro. Why all the Western food, you ask? Well, not only is it easy to get very tired of chunks of meat and veggies over rice or noodles, but in many places we have no choice, and Saigon is better known for its international food than for its local fare. In any case, we'll have a chance to eat something local at the street market Sunday afternoon before flying to Hanoi.
Now, to the present: Today finds us at the idyllic Mango Bay Resort on the island of Phu Quoc, off the southwest coast of Vietnam, surrounded by the warm and gentle waters of the Gulf of Thailand. We flew here yesterday from Saigon, drove from the quaint little airport through the rickety town and down a rut-filled dirt road. As we drove further away from town up the west coast of this teardrop-shaped island, we gradually moved onto smaller and tighter roads until arriving at this scenic little eco-resort. After being greeted at the open-air reception/restaurant, we were led to our "plantation bungalow" a couple of hundred yards through the natural grounds. The bungalow is perfect--a thatched-roof hut with a canopy bed (the canopy being mosquito netting of course, and don't worry, we're both taking our malaria pills), a dreamy private outdoor bathroom, and a deck looking out over the ocean. (We did have one near miss when we found a scorpion on the underside of my pillow yesterday afternoon.) The shore is maybe 50 yards down the sloping grassy embankment, where there are picturesque thatch umbrellas shielding pairs of lounges.
So far, in the 21 hours we've been here, we've had zero desire to do anything other than lay, swim, sleep, eat and drink. (And the bartender here makes a mighty fine gibson, much to my joy, which I sipped on while watching a gorgeous sunset last night.) At the moment, Sarah is seated in the restaurant, reading a gripping book about a woman's memory of the Pol Pot regime, as she sips coffee and listens to the lapping waves and swaying palms. You have our permission to be jealous. This place is freakin' awesome. A bit expensive by Vietnamese standards, but highly affordable for such luxury: $100 a night. Hour long massages are also expensive for here: $15. Dinner was exorbitant by Vietnameses standards: $40, including a very nice bottle of Chardonnay.
We'll be here two more days, which sounds just about right, before heading back for that final night in Saigon and then on to Hanoi for the northern Vietnam portion of our trip. Stay tuned for much more...
I'll get to the setting hinted at in today's title, but first a few words about Saigon and the Mekong Delta...
Our day on the Delta was definitely worth the money, but was also far short of what either of us would have liked to have experienced. The problem with day trips to the Mekong is that they're not nearly long enough to get far enough into the delta to really see life on the river. We got glimpses of it during a couple of hours chugging up and down the channels around Vinh Long and Cai Be Floating Market (which was really just a handful of boats, most of which were selling fish). But we did get to see a few of the things they like to show tourists, like the way families in the region have been making coconut and rice candy for generations. Very interesting stuff. Then we had a very local lunch that consisted of a huge fried river fish from which you pick off meat and roll it in rice paper with veggies. Sarah had a hard time with the scaliness and fishy-ness. While it was something I'd never order, it was a fascitating meal experience.
Most of the day was spent driving in and out of the Saigon area--about 3 hours each way. Saigon isn't an easy city to get into or out of. It's a swirling mass of more than 8 million people, seemingly all of them on motorbikes, moving like a great school of fish, swarming to go through and around whatever obstacles are in their way. At major interesections, there are sometimes signals, but it doesn't matter. Everyone seems to do what they want, so crossing the street is like playing a more organic version of Frogger--meaning it's not lurchy and harrowing as you'd expect. It's more like you just calmly weave your way through the ongoing traffic, which slows and adapts like the school of fish to get around you. (That said, 2 people a day die in traffic incidents in Saigon.)
We had dinner at a great little place called the Black Cat, where I had (believe it or not) an excellent turkey pot pie and Sarah had (even more unbelievably) a very tasty Reuben. This after a dinner the previous night at a very good Cajun place (!). And we'll top it off Saturday night, our last in Saigon, by dining in what looks to be a great French bistro. Why all the Western food, you ask? Well, not only is it easy to get very tired of chunks of meat and veggies over rice or noodles, but in many places we have no choice, and Saigon is better known for its international food than for its local fare. In any case, we'll have a chance to eat something local at the street market Sunday afternoon before flying to Hanoi.
Now, to the present: Today finds us at the idyllic Mango Bay Resort on the island of Phu Quoc, off the southwest coast of Vietnam, surrounded by the warm and gentle waters of the Gulf of Thailand. We flew here yesterday from Saigon, drove from the quaint little airport through the rickety town and down a rut-filled dirt road. As we drove further away from town up the west coast of this teardrop-shaped island, we gradually moved onto smaller and tighter roads until arriving at this scenic little eco-resort. After being greeted at the open-air reception/restaurant, we were led to our "plantation bungalow" a couple of hundred yards through the natural grounds. The bungalow is perfect--a thatched-roof hut with a canopy bed (the canopy being mosquito netting of course, and don't worry, we're both taking our malaria pills), a dreamy private outdoor bathroom, and a deck looking out over the ocean. (We did have one near miss when we found a scorpion on the underside of my pillow yesterday afternoon.) The shore is maybe 50 yards down the sloping grassy embankment, where there are picturesque thatch umbrellas shielding pairs of lounges.
So far, in the 21 hours we've been here, we've had zero desire to do anything other than lay, swim, sleep, eat and drink. (And the bartender here makes a mighty fine gibson, much to my joy, which I sipped on while watching a gorgeous sunset last night.) At the moment, Sarah is seated in the restaurant, reading a gripping book about a woman's memory of the Pol Pot regime, as she sips coffee and listens to the lapping waves and swaying palms. You have our permission to be jealous. This place is freakin' awesome. A bit expensive by Vietnamese standards, but highly affordable for such luxury: $100 a night. Hour long massages are also expensive for here: $15. Dinner was exorbitant by Vietnameses standards: $40, including a very nice bottle of Chardonnay.
We'll be here two more days, which sounds just about right, before heading back for that final night in Saigon and then on to Hanoi for the northern Vietnam portion of our trip. Stay tuned for much more...
Monday, November 10, 2008
Ladies (!) and Gentlemen, I Give You Vietnam
Tonight we find ourselves in Ho Chi Minh City--although I much prefer to call it Saigon, as many locals do. So much more romantic. We flew in today after saying goodbye to our beloved Cambodia. Tomorrow morning we rise at 6:30 to embark on a day trip to the Mekong Delta. (We could have done it by bus for $10 each, but we both hate tourist groups, so we chose to spring $60 each for a private driver and guide.) We learned in Cambodia that, aside from getting the lowdown on history and signficance, having a guide, at least for a day or so, in a new country gives you a leg up by picking a local's brain about customs, do's and don'ts, and pronunciation of common words and phrases. It's a luxury, but it's invaluable.
I'll certainly fill you in about the Mekong tomorrow night. (We have wireless access in our room here--yay!--and my laptop is miraculously working again, albeit not every time I start it up.) But I wanted to share one detail from tonight that was a quintessential Southeast Asian big city moment.
In the days we've been here, I had yet to venture out without Sarah a single time. We've been doing everything together, save the one time she went out for a late afternoon spa treatment while I napped. Then, tonight, shortly after returning from dinner, I stepped out to get something sweet to munch on in the room. I hadn't been alone 38 seconds when a, ahem, lady of the evening approached me, even trying to link her arm through mine. And about 45 seconds after that, a guy on a scooter with a particularly cheap looking young woman on the back of the seat pulled up and asked me if I was looking for a good time. It was almost like I was a GI in the Saigon of 1972. I can't say any more--Jackson may be reading this after all!--so I'll let you complete the mental picture for yourself.
I was about to upload a few photos from Cambodia, but I must get to sleep lest I regret my night-owl tendencies when the alarm goes off in just over 6 hours. So check back sometime tomorrow, and you should be greeted by a handful of memorable images.
Jao, all.
I'll certainly fill you in about the Mekong tomorrow night. (We have wireless access in our room here--yay!--and my laptop is miraculously working again, albeit not every time I start it up.) But I wanted to share one detail from tonight that was a quintessential Southeast Asian big city moment.
In the days we've been here, I had yet to venture out without Sarah a single time. We've been doing everything together, save the one time she went out for a late afternoon spa treatment while I napped. Then, tonight, shortly after returning from dinner, I stepped out to get something sweet to munch on in the room. I hadn't been alone 38 seconds when a, ahem, lady of the evening approached me, even trying to link her arm through mine. And about 45 seconds after that, a guy on a scooter with a particularly cheap looking young woman on the back of the seat pulled up and asked me if I was looking for a good time. It was almost like I was a GI in the Saigon of 1972. I can't say any more--Jackson may be reading this after all!--so I'll let you complete the mental picture for yourself.
I was about to upload a few photos from Cambodia, but I must get to sleep lest I regret my night-owl tendencies when the alarm goes off in just over 6 hours. So check back sometime tomorrow, and you should be greeted by a handful of memorable images.
Jao, all.
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