Merry Christmas

HANOI, VIETNAM — Yesterday marked my first Christmas away from home. The day before yesterday marked the first Christmas Eve spent on an 18 hour sleeping bus capped off by a Benedryl-induced haze.

What is Christmas like in Vietnam, you ask?

For the most part, it is decidedly un-Christmasy. In fact, our experiences with anything Christmas-like were pretty minimal. Sure, the odd restaurant strings lights atop it’s balcony, and attaches a santa or two to the sign in front but nothing too extravagant. We heard our first Christmas carol blaring from some old speakers as we sat down to enjoy our fancy Christmas dinner of Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup) and C’om Chay (rice and veggies). Perhaps the most exciting encounter we had took place while we waited for our bus. We all looked up just in time to see a man dressed as Santa, toting a large bag of what we assumed to be gifts walking down the street before quickly hopping on a motorbike and speeding past us. A real, live Santa! How fun!

But, let me tell you about our unconventional Christmas day. At 2:00pm on Christmas Eve we boarded a bus in Hoi An, bound for the small city of Ninh Binh (that was a mere 18 hours away). We secured the most prized piece of real estate on any sleeping bus — the back — where three or four seats/beds are clustered together perfectly. This unique arrangement makes a perfect staging ground for group snacks, watching movies on the laptops, or chatting. In an effort to avoid spending money we came armed with snacks — Pringles, baguettes, jam, chocolate, dried fruit, water, ah the makings of a Christmas Eve dinner. We were told that we were to arrive in Ninh Binh around 7 or 8am, so you can imagine our surprise when we were abruptly awoken from our fitful sleep and ushered off the bus, onto the dark sidewalk at not 8, but 5:00am. And so our Christmas morning began with a long, slow trudge through the dusty streets of Ninh Binh, and ended with our arrival at a very questionable guest house. Our room looked more like a train car than a hotel room, complete with plastic walls and ceiling inhabited with rats (that at times seemed to be competing in some sort of Olympic games). We ended up sleeping until around 1:00 with each of us waking up for brief family Skype dates before collapsing back into bed.

As much as it would have been wonderful to be with my family, I think sometimes the most unconventional Christmases can be the most exciting. Happy Holidays from ‘Nam! More soon!

Travel Update

Hello Friends,

Just a quick update for now. Hope you enjoyed my last post -- you might be interested to know that the burns on my leg are healing quite nicely and it looks like they might not even scar.

After a week on the island of Phu Quoc we took a ferry mainland Vietnam and spent about five days in the Mekong Delta, first in the city of Can Tho and then the smaller village of Ben Tre. While in the Delta we took a few different boat tours which proved to be a combination of entirely ridiculous and a little bit entertaining. Yesterday we arrived in what is formally known as Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) though most people here still refer to it as Saigon. I feel like I have now been to quite a few of Asia's big cities (okay, maybe not thattt many, but, Kathmandu, Phnom Penh, Delhi, Calcutta should count for something) and never before have I seen anything like Saigon. The traffic here is absolutely unbelievable. It remains unclear to me how so many motorbikes can ride on the same road without hitting each other. We have spent the last two days visiting the big city market, the Reunification Palace and the War Remnants Museum. There is certainly lots to see here.

The loose plan is to spend the next month working our way north in Vietnam. On January 3rd we are planning on beginning a month long volunteer program teaching English in the little mountain village of Sapa. It will be exciting to escape the heat and humidity for a bit.

Anyway, stay tuned for a more exciting update soon. Love.

How Could I Not Be?

PHU QUOC, VIETNAM — When it comes to motorbikes, everyone in Asia seems to be a natural. Small children who appear to have just recently started eating solid foods maneuver gracefully through the chaotic traffic. The elderly can ride -- the disabled too. Families of five or six seem to have no trouble. Mothers ride, balancing a couple of toddlers, with infants tucked away in a makeshift hammock strung between the handlebars. Young boys chat on cell phones – girls munch on fruits. No big.

And then, there are the objects that accompany motorbikers. It's not uncommon to see live hogs or chickens strapped on the back of motorbikes calmly controlled by adolescents. Crates of eggs, lumber, office chairs, jugs of gasoline, cases of beer, bicycles, fish, baguettes, javelin-like metal rods – you name it, we’ve seen it strapped, tied, lassoed or velcroed to a motorbike.

Armed with this understanding that riding a motorbike is a piece of cake for everyone, (the young, old and disabled included) and the encouragement of a couple supporters I too believed I was capable. How could I not be?

Minutes into my relationship with my motorbike, I feared we would not be able to ride as one. The first problem was that it wouldn’t start. While my travel companions eagerly engaged their engines every time I started mine it sputtered and died. The owner of the motorbikes patiently explained to me via a combination of hand signals, miming, childlike engine noises and Vietnamese that as soon as I started it I needed to gently rev the engine. I did as told, and the beast lurched forward aggressively. The man then advised (from what I could understand) that I should just coast down the slight incline to get out of the driveway and away from all things that could be potentially destroyed or killed.

Armed with my newfound confidence from the whole coasting experience, I gently rev-ed the engine with the intention of getting on the small dirt road leading out of the guesthouse and to the main road. The bike pitched forward towards the opposite ditch. Fearing disaster I turned the handlebars so that at the very least I would continue at an unsafe speed up the dirt road. At the time it seemed a favorable alternative to crashing in the ditch with the group of already skeptical Vietnamese men watching me. And so, I turned the handlebars hard, the back tire caught in the loose sand kicking the bike out from beneath me and in a pile we crashed to the ground -- my leg pressing against the hot muffler.

Calmly the motorbike owner approached me again, chuckling as he began to re-teach me – pointing excitedly at various buttons, pulling back on levers and making engine noises. Clearly still inept I switched bikes – happily handing over the keys to the red devil in exchange for a shiny and new looking bike, complete with a supple brown leather seat. While I automatically felt more comfortable with my new ride, we took off for the main road a bit more hesitantly. My new bike idled nicely and I was less afraid that it would turn against me at any moment.

We rode forward onto the main paved road that leads from the touristy beach area into the city of Duong Dong. The road started off wide, with light traffic but before long we entered the city proper. Motorbikes, trucks, motorized noodle carts, bicycles and cars fought for space in the city’s roundabouts and narrow, dirt streets – horns honking, red dust flying. Following lunch at a small, empty restaurant we began our quest to find the less popular beaches located on the island’s northeast coast. Road signs in English do not exist so we struck off blindly, pointing ourselves vaguely in the direction we believed to be north. After a few unsuccessful attempts we spotted a traveler who appeared to be riding confidently toward some unknown destination. Sensing no better alternative we took off after him, maintaining enough distance so as to look informed ourselves but not entirely creepy.

The once-wide paved street quickly narrowed into a road that more closely resembled a dirt path. The bright orange dirt kicked up in a fine dust with each passing vehicle, covering each of us in a thin layer of rusty grit. Our motorbikes bucked and jerked – coughing their way through the deep potholes, skidding through sand and gravel – and, for the most part, I felt in control. I began to feel more confident. With the foreigner still locked in our viewfinder we passed through small villages. Children scampered along the side of the road, men crowded around small noodle or tea shacks, women sat behind store counters awaiting the next customer. As quickly as we entered villages we seemed to pass through them and find ourselves surrounded on both sides by deep, thick forest.

Hand confidently on the gas I accelerated up small hills, speeding down the other side. It wasn’t until my first experience with a “bridge” that my terror returned. First of all, bridges have always terrified me. Ask my friend Sam how difficult it was to convince me to go to Prince Edward Island once I learned that the route there included a 16 mile bridge (that I swear did sway back and forth). Secondly, bridges on this island should terrify everyone. I don’t believe that any concrete was utilized in their construction. Instead, they appear to be built of rotting lumber, held above the stagnant water by rotting posts. In addition, every other board or so is broken and/or not attached to the rest of the “bridge.” The sound of riding a motorbike across one of these contraptions is terrifying --not that I could hear it over my racing mind that was busy conjuring up images of my imminent death.

I eased my bike onto the edge of the first such bridge we came across, waiting patiently for my friends to safely reach the other side – not believing for a second that the “bridge” could support more than one motorbike at a time. As I sat on my bike collecting myself and trying to create positive scenarios in my mind to overpower the ones of myself breaking through the “bridge” and plummeting to my death in the sludge water below, I saw, to my horror, two motorbikes passing one another on the “bridge.” PASSING! Sure I was going to witness some kind of horrible accident I turned away. Overcome with my fear I waited until I was certain no one was around before meekly crossing the death structure that appeared to bow beneath me. Not that the other side was much better. Jagged rocks littered the small road that wove narrowly between huts teaming with small, unpredictable children, chickens and kids zigzagging around on bikes that were much too large.

Two life-threatening “bridges” later we caught our first glimpse of the ocean, peeking through the forest. Soon after we found the beach. Soon after we realized we had no water, no snacks, no towels and had forgotten our snorkel. We decided to take a quick dip before having to struggle back into our dry clothes – transforming them into knots of sand and salt water.

Retrieving my key from my bag, I started my motorbike to continue up the coast. Feeling rejuvenated and confident I accelerated into the road, making a hard left turn as my bike and I propelled forward. In my panic I confused the brake and gas and at that moment, hit the sand. Again, my motorbike and I crashed to the ground in a heap. The key dug hard into my upper right thigh, bending it in the ignition. The bike landed on my left leg, momentarily trapping it. Embarrassed, I pulled myself up and reassured the few concerned locals who stopped to check on us, that I was in fact fine – just a giant spaz. What little pride remained quickly disintegrated as I inspected the scratches on the new brown paint and the bent key.

I proceeded to ride 25 miles an hour back to our guest house and survive each and every “bridge” crossing. An accidental journey into the city market did not fail to entertain, however, as we were forced to navigate through even narrower streets with even more obstacles, people and motorbikes. I lived in a constant state of fear of accidentally accelerating and losing control.

And yet, somehow I survived and somehow everyone else here seems to drive with such poise – calm and confident amidst a sea of utter traffic-chaos.

Vietnam and island livin'

After three relaxing days on the beaches in Sihanoukville, we have crossed into Vietnam. Jade and Kade's visa's expired on the third of December, and while the overstay fee is just five dollars we were advised not to piss anyone off, and to get out of Cambodia before then. We are currently on the island of Phu Quoc that is actually just off the Cambodian coast and from what I have read it is still "claimed by Cambodia." However, Vietnam has built a huge military base on the island and in turn has claimed it.

The island is quite large and about 70% of it is protected forest. The coast is ringed with beautiful sandy beaches that are slowly becoming more popular with tourists -- development is quite obviously on the way. We are staying on Long Beach -- a 5 km stretch of sand -- sparse with bungalows and restaurants. We are planning to lounge around here for the next week or so before heading to mainland Vietnam and the Mekong Delta.

We have been talking about how difficult and exhausting it is to travel sometimes -- and how frustrating it is to get around -- but then, we find islands like this and suddenly everything seems so simple.

That's all for now. LoveLoveLove.

Koh Kong

Greetings Friends,

I write to you today after a long hiatus from the quaint town of Koh Kong, on Cambodia's southern coast. We arrived here three days ago via a 15 hour bus ride from Battambang. It is here that I have caught my first glimpse of the ocean, and where it is starting to feel like I am really on a vacation -- how can it not when you are lounging in beach chairs, the warm ocean lapping at your feet while you read and drink a coke.

Our first day here we rented bikes for $1 and road about 12km outside of the town to a nice little beach. We ended up spending most of the day reading and hanging out at a little 'restaurant' right on the water. The bike ride wound through dirt roads between mangrove forests and little fishing huts before finally ending at the beach.

Yesterday we joined an organized tour that took us to a remote island -- about a 2.5 hour boat ride from the mainland. We were hoping to see the endangered Irawaddy Dolphin on the way, but alas, no dice. The island is inhabited only by a few coconut farmers, so our boat (about 8 of us) had the place to ourselves. We snorkeled around the rocks -- which was actually quite sad. The coral is almost entirely gone, but is starting to grow back in a few places. We did see some fish, hermit crabs and sea fans though. The rest of the time was spent lounging, reading, and building sand cabins. It wasn't until we returned that we realized just how suburned we were. Despite our best efforts, the sun here just seems to be too strong for our very white (er, red) skin. On the boat ride back we detoured through Asia's largest mangrove forest. I had hoped that the guide would tell us a bit about them (to supplement my knowledge gained from my 11th grade marine biology project) but really we just sort of sped right through them. It is a pretty amazing forest though, that seems to go on forever and ever.

We plan to go east along the coast and spend a few days in Sihanoukville before crossing the border into Vietnam by the 3rd or 4th of December when our visa's expire. There we will visit an island we've heard a lot about and explore the Mekong Delta before venturing further north.

Since I last wrote we have also been in the city of Battambang. For some reason, unbeknownst to us, we spent five or six days there, even though there wasn't much going on. It is Cambodia's second largest city, but is quite small and everything seemed to close around 8pm -- quite a change coming from the super touristy city of Siem Reap. We spent a few days on Tuk Tuks visting temples and Khmer Rouge sites and visited a school we considered volunteering at before ultimately deciding to head south.

LoveLoveLove

Safe in Battambang

Thanks for the concern everyone. We are safe in Battambang and have not been in Phnom Penh for 10 days or so. We only heard about the stampede yesterday -- very very sad news.

I will write a longer update soon. Thanks for the love.

Siem Reap

I seem to already be taking the heat for neglecting my blog, so here is a wee little update.

We have spent the last six days or so (it's hard to keep track of time when you're on vacation, ha) in the city of Siem Reap -- home of the Angkor Wat temples. The popularity of the temples has led the creation of an extremely touristy little city -- complete with fancy hotels and restaurants. We have shacked up in a nice little guest house -- the Royal Key Angkor GH -- where for $13 per night (total) we have quite a large room, bathroom with hot water AND, air conditioning (to the point where it's actually cold). The humidity outside is still quite shocking. We have explored the city's markets (see my photos) -- mazes of shops packed tightly together selling foods, illegal DVDs, souvenirs etc -- where are always limitless photo opportunities, AND, where I bought a fully functioning copy of Microsoft Word for $4. YES!

Much of our time here has been consumed with exploring the temples. In addition to the famous Angkor Wat temple, which we visited today, there are tons of other much smaller complexes scattered around the city. I don't think I can aptly explain how gorgeous they are -- so please, check out the photos. One day we also traveled about 30 km outside the city, via tuk tuk -- a long, terrifying ride -- to visit the Cambodian Landmine Museum. As depressing as it was, we all learned a great deal both about how landmies work and how many still exist throughout the country and much of Southeast Asia.

The food here turns out to be quite interesting. We have all decided that we much prefer thai food but are slowly beginning to enjoy Khmer food as well. The main Khmer dish is called Amok -- essentially a combination of spices that meat or vegetables are cooked in. I believe that it is primarily a combination of coconut, lemongrass. We have also learned that Cambodians eat everything. One little jaunt through the food market reveals piles of animal parts that I would never imagine could even be eaten. Pig heads, chicken feet, frogs, crocodiles, cow brains, various eggs. Wow. We have found that it is relatively easy to eat a meal for $1.50 -- I believe breakfast for the three of this morning cost $5. We have all become obsessed with fresh fruit shakes as well. Yum. Spring rolls have also become a staple of my diet.

That's all for now. Tomorrow we are off to Battambang via a 4-6 hour boat ride through Tonle Sap (google it!).

aaaaaand.....here's the photo link for those of you that don't have facebook

LoveLoveLove