Back to Vietnam ... Central that is

Vietnam's torso is, appropriately enough, where I ate the best food. If I could only return to one region, I think it'd have to be Central for this very reason. (This said, why no food shots? Perhaps I was enjoying the meals too intensely to consider documenting them. You may also find it curious that my first food story is completely unappetizing. Good thing the meals got better.)

Heading south from Hanoi, I got off the train in Ninh Binh (not quite Central Vietnam yet, but nevermind, I haven't talked about it yet). I arrived in the evening and the next morning joined up with two German women to tour the area in a private car. Our driver spoke very little English so we were at his mercy, getting out of the car when he stopped and walking in the direction of his index finger. First up, a boat ride down the river:

We stopped off at a big Catholic church, which sported a kitschy little market out front with a wide assortment of plastic Mary and Jesus paraphernalia:

The folks here row their boats with their feet. Looks like it takes incredible control:

After the boat tour, our driver took us to a local restaurant for lunch. No one there spoke English so we managed enough Vietnamese and hand gestures to order any two dishes of their choosing. One was a mysterious meat, darkish in color and a little tough. The waitress demonstrated how to put the meat on a lettuce leaf, top it with some other herbs, roll it up and dunk it in a sauce. It didn't taste like any meat I'd eaten before, but as skeptical as I was, I was that much hungrier.

Back in the car, the three of us began pondering aloud the possibilities of the mystery meat. At the mention of dog, our driver hooted and managed through laughter: "Dog, dog, yes, dog. So sorry. So sorry." So, there you have it. I ate dog. Sorry Lucy. But it really is just point of view, right? Pigs make great pets as well.

An afternoon trip to Tam Coc for the paddle boat ride through caves and by stony outcrops was worthwhile even though the drizzle never let up. The next morning was just as soggy so I moved on to Hue. An overly talkative guy who had been pestering me at the guesthouse in Ninh Binh did me a favor in the end by introducing me to the two Kiwi gals below at the train station. We became fast friends and booked a place together in Hue.

Hue is renowned for its cuisine. There's a story about a picky emperor who demanded that 50 new dishes be created for the royal menu, leaving a legacy of rich creations. Or something to that effect. I can only vouch for the present-day culinary situation and I say it's worth going to this city if only to dine. As I don't have any food shots, I'll insert Vietnamese coffee here. This stuff is addictive and found up and down the country:

Hue is painted in bold, vivid colors. Bicycles are a popular mode of transport in the mid-sized town:

After Hue, it was on to Hoi An, where you can't spit without hitting a tailor shop. This is the town in Vietnam for having clothes tailor-made. If you allot two days for this town, better make it five. You'll get sucked in by the savvy seamstresses, river-side restaurants and photographic street scenes.

Lantern shops like this one give the town a romantic feel:

The Japanese covered bridge is a beauty:

Only 3 kilometers outside town lies the Thanh Ha Pottery Village. These women were so warm and welcoming and let me take photos of them in action. Talk about fancy footwork.

Bowls drying in the sun:

One day, Andrea, Cat, Pam and I took a bus to My Son, once a holy city for the Cham people. It was fun to wonder through the ruins but I've heard there's much better Cham architecture elsewhere. Considering the time and cost and what's to see while there, I wouldn't do it a second time. But okay, it was a decent enough experience to have once. A horrifying experience actually happened on the way there. The bus in front of us struck and killed a motorcyclist. Andrea is a doctor so she got off the bus to assist but it was too late. After some time, several shaken tourists from that bus joined us and we moved on, though in somber moods.

After another day or so in Hoi An, the other girls headed south - where I would meet up with them again - and I moved to nearby China Beach (yes, the China Beach). I only stayed a few days, but could have easily stretched it to a week or longer. I stayed at Hua's Place, which must be the chillest place on earth. There's Hua with his wife in the picture below along with me and a couple of English travelers. You get to know the others staying there pretty well - if you want it that way - because dinner is served family-style. Dishes vary from night to night and you eat what is served, which is generally very good. Everything is on the honor system so when you grab a beer from the fridge or order up a banana pancake, you write it on your page in the guest book.

And then there's this little treasure:

I had the long stretch of beach nearly to myself during morning and early evening walks. One evening as I sat down there reading, three giggling women dropped their belongings on the sand and ran for the water fully clothed. They dunked themselves once and then splashed back to the shore, picked up their things and left the beach still giggling. I guess joy doesn't have to last long to be real.

I reluctantly bade farewell to China Beach and headed for a beach further south. More later...as in after my trip to Trang...less than three days til I'm on the train!

Wardrobe malfunction

When teaching conversation strategies, I often give students hypothetical situations in which to use the new language. For example, after learning "That's too bad" and "I'm sorry to hear that," they may pretend they've broken up with their sweetheart or dropped their cellphone in the toilet. But sometimes life provides real situations to truly demonstrate the usefulness of the language. The other day I was teaching phrases used to express disbelief or surprise, such as "You're not going to believe this...", "Oh my god", "You're joking!", "Are you serious?" and so on. At that point the wrap dress I was wearing - usually very secure - came undone to a roomful of bulging eyes and open mouths. After a few seconds of recovery time, they responded with impeccable English and I could only applaud their proficiency with a beet-red face.

Bangkok's in the Christmas spirit

Thailand may be 95% Buddhist, but that doesn't stop Bangkok from giving an excessively illuminated nod to Christmas every year, starting as early as October. Especially puzzling this year are the other familiar characters and symbols joining Santa in the Yuletide spotlight. Snow White and her dwarfs, Cinderella's carriage and shoe, and certain Disney stars commingle with St. Nick and his reindeer outside some of the larger shopping malls. (The reindeer are actually pulling the slipper in the picture below.)

While walking around in today's 90-degree temp to the tunes of Jingle Bells, Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Frosty the Snowman, I had the out-of-the-blue and irritating realization that winter is here and I still haven't finished writing about my trip to Vietnam in April (which probably bothers no one but me as I doubt anyone's still reading this blog, but I'd like to record the entire trip so I have some reference for future reminiscing). Then I found comfort in other thoughts: although I've been a slacker at blogging, I've had some other meaningful accomplishments lately. For one, I discovered pistachio macaroons, these little mounds of heaven I could eat by the bucketful. I met some friends for lunch today at French cafe Lenotre, scene of the initial discovery. For dessert, we split the icecream sandwiches. Five macaroons - pistachio, raspberry, vanilla, butterscotch and chocolate - are halved and stuffed with same-flavored icecream. I think I must go back tomorrow for another one - only because I didn't photograph it and that's not fair to you. Okay, accomplishment #2. I've been reading even more than usual lately and finally started Fountainhead, which has been on my list for years. I have two close friends in my building and the three of us rotate books like there's no reading in 2010. I've also made a career decision for what's next after Thailand, but I can't share it because these decisions tend to change and I need to make sure this one sits prominently for a while longer. And I just planned my winter-break vacation, which starts this Saturday. Nabeel and I are going to some islands down south that look incredible. We'll be there for two weeks and then I'll spend the third week of vaca in Bangkok with a surprise visitor. I'm afraid if I disclose the name of the visitor, I'll jinx it and she won't be able to come. Of course you'll get more on that later...like next March perhaps.

Will try to finish up Vietnam bit before Saturday...But must also work and do washing and paint toenails and shop for a new camera lens (I may treat myself with end-of-year bonus!), and meet some fellow ladies out for free margaritas Thursday night...

I made the Thai news

Not for protesting in red or yellow or anything else the least bit provocative ... just simply for attending the opera. No, wait, it was the flamenco performance. Both recent shows at the Thai Cultural Center attracted royalty. I didn't see anyone newsworthy at the opera; we just knew someone significant was there because of the 30-minute delay on both sides of the performance as the audience waited for the entourage to enter and exit. For the flamenco dancing, though, our foursome sat directly behind everyone's favorite princess. Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn is known for her photography (I once went to an exhibition of the photos she's taken during her many travels), community involvement and love of the arts (the annual music and dance festival is under her direction in some fashion). Witnessing the Princess and the stir surrounding her at such an intimate proximity was almost as entertaining as the flamenco itself. She enters through a side door, followed by others carrying various comforts for her, including a cart with tea. She walks casually to a plush seat that's isolated from others and, after a brief, curious look over her shoulder at her reverent onlookers, sits without ceremony. Members of her consort bring their offerings and, as protocol dictates, walk backwards on departure. Others kneel by her chair during the entire show as she follows the movement through opera glasses. All of this was recorded by a resolute cluster of video journalists, at least one of which capturing us in the process. Alas, though, I found no clip on youtube.

Travel highlights: Northern Vietnam

It's been almost four months since Vietnam and I still salivate when I think of the food. Vietnamese knocks the socks off Thai, but you didn't hear me say that. A woman I met there and traveled with some came through Bangkok recently and we couldn't resist going to a Vietnamese restaurant...thought it would help with the reminiscing. Speaking of reminiscing...

The flight from Luang Prabang to Hanoi was certainly interesting. I flew Laos Airways, which is often the target of chuckles when travelers toss tales of sketchy flights. A rattling noise commenced during takeoff and persisted for the first half of the flight (strike one). When the flight attendant came around with drinks, I lowered my tray table and it fell off in my lap (strike two). At that point, the man across the aisle said, "Uh oh, what's strike three?" and those of us in the row held our collective breaths until we landed. That was one big sigh of relief. By the time I checked into the hotel - family-run Tung Trang, by the way, if you're looking for good location and hospitality at a reasonable price - it was nightfall. Sweet-tempered Snow, the receptionist, steered me toward the closest streetside pho restaurant, where I sat down for my first big bowl of the quintessential Hanoi dish - noodles, sliced meat, herbs and broth.

Pho restaurant during daylight hours:

Properly fueled, I set off on my first stroll around the Old Quarter:

If you only do one thing in Hanoi, meander the streets of this vibrant, chaotic area with its myriad shops, cafes and art galleries. I could have spent my entire time in Hanoi getting lost in the maze that's the Old Quarter - and nearly did. It was completely overwhelming at first - seemingly impenetrable motorbike traffic that makes crossing the street an extreme sport, a constant stream of solicitations by cyclo drivers and street vendors, obstructed sidewalks that force you out into the street - but you gradually get used to it. In fact, when I got back to Bangkok, I was bewildered by what I perceived to be an eerie quietness. Where's all the noise I once thought defined this city? For about a week, I would question friends: does it seem especially quiet here? Now, I'm happy to say, I've adjusted and live life appropriately annoyed by my surroundings.



In the Old Quarter, shops selling the same type of goods are generally grouped together on the same street. The street names reflect what's sold there now or what was historically sold there, as far back as the 13th century, when artisan guilds began sprouting all over the area. Street names begin with "Hang", which means shop, and end with the specific merchandise, so you can get your silver on Hang Bac, baskets on Hang Bo and silk on Hang Dao.

The numbers you see in the picture below are spray-painted all over the facades of Hanoi and were a mystery to me for a while. I asked the woman below and was given the hand gesture for opening a lock with a key. Several other inquiries didn't lead to further enlightenment, but I finally got my answer. They're phone numbers for people in the repair/service industry. Seems if you need any kind of maintenance work, you just pick a number off the wall and dial.

One day I wondered over to Ba Dinh Square for the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum and One Pillar Pagoda. The mausoleum's forbidding form and a daunting line under the hot sun initially quelled my excitement for visiting dear Uncle Ho, but the succession of ants moved steadily and soon enough we were inside the cool, dimly lit building. There, the adored former leader looks as if he's just down for a nap, save the glass case enclosing him - a pretty cool sight. Okay, don't leave Hanoi without seeing the Old Quarter and Ho Chi Minh.

The streets of Hanoi teem with motorbikes, many carrying three or four people plus a huge box, or maybe even a TV. Trying to cross the street is like being in your own Frogger video game, but walk confidently, steadily, with no sudden stops, and the system works.

I discovered that Britney Spears' meltdown saga hasn't affected her popularity in one country. She's huge in Vietnam and these tables covered in her mug aren't that uncommon:

My first mini-excursion outside Hanoi was the famously stunning and ethereal Halong Bay:

I booked a two-day tour with a travel agent and ended up on a boat with this fine crew:

While there, I went kayaking for the first time. It's either harder than it looks or my arms are wimpier than I thought, but it made for an incredible experience. Eight of us went, our destination this lake surrounded by limestone karsts like the ones shown two pics above. For a while, we were the only ones there, treated to an amazing stillness. I didn't take my camera for fear of drowning it, but hope the image of that lake is sufficiently burned into memory. I remember lying back in the kayak for a breathtaking view of only karsts and sky.

The next day, the entire group went on a walk through the "Surprise" Cave, named so because of its surprise ending. Spoiler alert! Spoiler alert!

I also ventured up north to mountainous Sapa from my base in Hanoi. The overnight train spit me out at the northern most stop and from there I took an hour-long van ride to the former French resort town. In the van, I conversed with an older gentleman who's originally from Vietnam, now living in Canada. Born in South Vietnam, he was touring the north for the first time like me. He noticed the thin jacket I was wearing and asked if I had brought something warmer. I had not. As it's quite cold in Sapa, he insisted that I take one of his sweaters. I tried to decline the kind gesture, luckily unsuccessfully because I would have frozen without it. As he suggested, I returned the sweater to the front desk of his hotel before leaving town. Some people are just so nice, they really make up for the jerks.

Picturesque Sapa is hot on the tourist trail. It's undeniably beautiful, but seems a little contrived with all the Westerners and people selling goods to the Westerners and not many beyond that. I'd recommend just a night or two here and then more exploration of the Lao Cai province. While in Sapa, I did go on one of the easier treks for this incredible late afternoon view:

Sapa is home to many ethnic minority groups such as H'mong and Dao. They pour in every day, dressed in their colorful traditional garb, to peddle goods such as textiles and silver. This woman from the Black H'mong group took a liking to me, which translates to saw me as an easy target. She's intuitive because I did way overpay for a pillowcase. Nevermind, though. It was a good price for interesting conversation.

From Sapa, I ventured to Bac Ha, much quieter than the former except on Sundays when tourists and hill-tribes living in outlying areas swarm the town for the hugely popular market. Most of the market vendors are Flower H'mong and don the most vibrantly hued clothing.

The action starts around six or seven in the morning when locals arrive with livestock, textiles, silver, food, you name it, to sell. They're there to work but you also get the feeling it's the big social event of the week as groups gather to chat and possibly make fun of the poorly dressed tourists. I don't know, I'm just guessing.



I tasted some of the rice wine this woman is selling. Holy stomach burn, this stuff is strong.

The next day, it was back to Hanoi for one more night and some cha ca, another dish that's full-on Hanoi. White fish and greens are cooked in a hot pot and then mixed with cold rice noodles and shrimp paste. Delicious and a nice farewell to a city I missed the minute I left. So many big cities these days are generic enough to place them in just about any country. But, Hanoi - absolutely oozing with personality - is unmistakably Vietnamese.

That's my love letter to Hanoi and surrounds...next time we'll see how many memories I can recall from Central Vietnam...

Koh Phi Phi chilled

Aaaaahhhh...choooo... Whew, hello there. Things look about the same around here. But the least you could've done is dust a bit while I was gone. Well, that's okay, can't say I blame you. Let me just sweep a little here and, yes, I'll just brush these cobwebs out of the corner. Aaah...much better...

Now where were we? Ah yes, Vietnam. But before I get to that, please allow me to interject my latest trip. Because I write so infrequently, I suppose it seems all I do is vacation, but there really were some toilsome weeks of work in between. The term ended on the 24th and Nabeel and I hopped on an overnight train to Surat Thani. From there, we took a bus to Krabi, then a ferry to Ko Phi Phi, and voila - well, almost 24 hours later - we were lounging on one of the most spectacular islands in the world. Because of its beauty, much of this island has been grossly overdeveloped and gets a bad rap as a tourist trap. But here's the secret to paradise found: go during off-season and flee the main beach for the tranquil east coast.

We went straight from the pier to Pak Nam Beach and its only resort, Phi Phi Relax Beach Resort, which offers clean, modern bungalows with little daybeds on the porches from which to gaze at the ocean. The beach there is nice as well - a long enough strip of sand for a decent walk. The water all along the east coast is calm and ideal for swimming.

If I'm on an east coast, I love getting up for sunrise walks on the beach. At least for the first couple of mornings until the novelty wears off and sleeping in takes precedence.

After a couple of days on Pak Nam, we moved a couple of bays down to Rantee Beach, probably my favorite. The sloppily built bungalows are about as basic as they come but comfortable - if you don't mind the occasional critter stopping by. In a bit of irony (and bizarre design choice), these tiny shacks boasted the best toilets around - gleaming white porcelain with an automatic flush. The best part about Rantee was that with only a few other bungalows occupied, we felt like we owned the beach. I could have stayed a lot longer than the three days we did if not for tiring of the limited food options.

In the end, culinary boredom is what drove us further south and around the bend to west-coast Long Beach. More crowded than the previous two, but not nearly the party of Ton Sai, this beach offers a nice compromise. There are a few good Thai restaurants to satisfy the palate and the beach is quite peaceful in the mornings and late afternoons (of course, this is off-season - not sure what it's like during tourist time).

The views from Long Beach are truly stunning.

Long Beach's greatest perk, though, is that it's easy to leave. It's located toward the end of the peninsula so you can cut over by land to to its parallel neighbor on the east coast. And this beach happens to be the best of all. There's no accommodation whatsoever, only a little snack shack and a long stretch of beautiful sand. By hiking over there in the late afternoon and early morning, we had hours of being the only people there. I had a hard time believing this was the Koh Phi Phi that's constantly accused of being too overcrowded.


After a good eight days of reading by the ocean, swimming in the calmest and clearest of emerald waters, and sipping mango lassis and spiked lemon shakes, I was as relaxed as I've ever been. That was a true vacation and one I didn't want to see end. But inevitably it did and now I'm back at work, already brainstorming about the next holiday. Hmm...

Travel highlights: Laos

What excuse have I got this time for my shameful neglect of this blog? I could tell you that I've been distracted by matters of the heart - a pleasantly unexpected development as soon as I returned from my trip - so that you could sigh and empathize, "Ah yes, understandable." But as I don't make habit of revealing such intimate details on this forum - and to be fair, that's only part of the story - I'll just carry on as if no time has passed since I promised you this summary of my stay in Laos.

The two weeks there now seem like a hazy dream. Oh wait, it was hazy there. I timed my trip just perfectly with the annual burning of the forests. That was unfortunate in terms of pictures and just general breathing comfort, but thankfully Luang Prabang is capable of seducing even through a pervasive curtain of smog.

To be honest, my immediate reaction to this quaint, walkable town was not overwhelmingly positive. I was thrown off by all the tourists who seemed to outnumber the locals. But I gave in to the experience and met a lot of interesting travelers from all over. The hedonist in me was also won over by all the gastronomical offerings. There are restaurants from all over the globe, though the Laos and French ones are (understandably) most notable. Mornings usually began with a warm, fresh baguette and cup of Laos-style coffee with its sweet condensed milk. A wine bar with cushy seating on the front porch turned out to be my favorite post-dinner hangout, and a night was rarely complete without a visit to one of the crepe stands that pop up along the streets. French colonization was fortunate in some regards. Cuba also gets a mini spotlight here as one of the most popular and amusing hangouts is the outdoor bar Mojito, where gregarious Laos guys in cowboy hats twirl bottles ala Tom Cruise in Cocktail and pronounce the j in the signature drink as you would for jug.

Architecture is another aspect of Laos that benefited from French occupation. Just walking the streets and looking at buildings makes for an interesting afternoon.

The morning alms procession (Tak Bat) is a daily Buddhist tradition and with so many monasteries in Luang Prabang, it's a particularly colorful sight here. Just after daybreak, monks file out of the monasteries and line up with their alms bowls to accept homemade sticky rice from the townspeople. Unfortunately this very spiritual practice has become a bit of a tourist spectacle. I can't feign higher ground here because I obviously took this picture, though I did so hastily and from a considerable distance, trying to pacify my conscious by separating myself from the mass in the streets with their flashing digital cams. It's one of those situations that you can recognize as invasive but take part in anyway with a slightly red face. Another issue besides the indiscreet photography is the well-meaning tourists who want to contribute to the alms-giving but end up offending by using the wrong hand or wearing the wrong clothes or sitting the wrong way or giving the wrong thing. Peddlers with an eye for business opportunity sell rice to the enthusiastic tourists, and that rice is unsuitable and sometimes even unclean.

If LP had a soundtrack, the first track would be the constant drone of tuk-tuk drivers directed to tourists: waterfall cave waterfall cave waterfall cave. This is repeated day in and day out lest you forget that tuk-tuks can transport you to the two most popular nearby attractions. I imagine the wives of these drivers waking to their husbands reciting this mantra in their sleep.

Stephanie and I did make it to both the Kouang Xi waterfall and the Pak Ou cave. The waterfall is a beauty, though with so many tourists, serenity is elusive.

The cave contains a pretty cool collection of ancient Buddhist statues but overall isn't that spectacular. As Stephanie keenly observed, you'd be pretty pissed off if you spent three hours round trip on a bus to get there, but being that you go by boat, it's a fairly enjoyable morning.

One of our favorite attractions was the Ock Pop Tok weaving center. You can take intensive weaving courses here, but we only had time for the tour of the silk production process. It was interesting to see what resources are used for the natural dyes, such as turmeric for yellow, indigo leaves for blue, and bark from tamarind tree for dark red. I was struck by the tediousness of the weaving. The weavers at this center don't work grueling hours, but I imagine they still ache at nights from the static position and repetitive movements.

The night market in Luang Prabang offers your standard array of local handicrafts, but a more interesting experience is the morning market that runs parallel to the Mekong. You never know what you'll find there as vendors seem to bring whatever they've managed to kill or capture that morning. Birds of all sorts, hamsters, even the hind legs of a dog.

One day I crossed the Mekong and spent the better part of the day in Ban Xieng Maen. A stroll down a dirt path leads from one historic temple to another, most of them abandoned. The picture directly below is of peaceful Wat Chom Phet, at the top of a hill. I was there for an hour looking down and across the river at Luang Prabang, not interupted by a single person.

I mosied on to another temple, where I met two young monks with flashlights who led me to a cave and the old abandoned temple pictured below:

If you live in America and visit your doctor before traveling to certain parts of Southeast Asia, you'll no doubt leave with a prescription for Malarone, a malaria preventative. It's the most effective defense against malaria, and to keep it that way, the manufacturers won't sell it in this area (or possibly outside of North America, I'm not sure). The mosquitoes would just become immune, as they are to the malarial drugs that are available here. That's why my doctor said don't bother, just wear repellent and get to a hospital within 48 hours of malaria-like symptoms. And this is how Steph and I got an unplanned and amusing tour of the hospital system in LP. I had been feverish for a day and then had to abruptly abandon a bewildered masseuse to go puke in her bathroom, so we figured a malaria test was indeed in order. We followed the map to a street with beautiful and colorful old French buildings, none of which were clearly marked as a hospital. We were pointed in different directions and had tuk-tuk drivers offer to take us there for a fee - there being some location we could have thrown a stone at. At last, though, we located the hospital and were then directed to a building serving only malaria patients. I didn't sign in, didn't pay a thing - the nurse just came out to the lobby, pricked my finger and told me to wait 15 minutes. That gave us time to find humor in the wall hangings, like this malaria warning:

And this poster demonstrating the importance of proper hand-washing:

Ironically, there was no soap in the hospital restroom.

Of no surprise to you, I tested negative for malaria, so Stephanie and I were able to carry on, the hospital saga evolving into just another funny travel anecdote.

More pictures of Laos are here.

Up next: highlights of Vietnam, coming to you, er, sometime soon.