Sapa 4 sale

After feeling certain we would be sleeping on a van, we pull into a bus station where we change into a legit bus, a sleeper no less, the most comfortable one yet. We ended up better than we thought!  The guy at the bus station was really nice, exchanging a few niceties with limited language and helping us put our bags in the bus.  Surprised I was, when we got on the bus and he turned into the usual pushy, aggressive, nasty bus attendant I still can't get accustomed to.  He was behind me "directing" all of the people, grunting and elbowing me in the head.  Not sure why these guys don't realize getting in front of us would be helpful.  After a few good shoves from Mr. Bus Nazi, I realized me telling him continuously to stop wasn't getting us anywhere, so I turned around, put my hand on his chest and told him to cut the BS, slightly more diplomatically than that, but he caught my drift and backed up.  I wondered what the hell happened to the nice kid at the bus station...Marj and I figure it's a bus attendant ego thing.

In the middle of the night, there had been an accident (we think) or something that caused us to  stop in the middle of the road, shut off the bus and hang for 2 hours.  We came across something similar in the morning, turning a 12 hour bus ride into a 17 hour one.  We arrived in Sapa with the usual bombardments, but this had the addition of the ethnic minorities Sapa is most known for, dressed in their great clothes, trying to persuade us to go on a tour to their village.  As if trying to find a place to sleep wasn't hard enough.  We agreed with the best deal we found and after settling in, head out to explore our new home of the next few days.  

June is the official beginning of the rainy season, but it seems to make visits in May.  And so it rained all afternoon.  As with most Asian markets/stores, everybody sells the same thing and sell right next to each other.  I believe this stems from a community driven culture in which individuality and uniqueness is not desired.  With this, and the region/weather we were in, "Northface" stores were everywhere.  Lucky for me, I picked up a rain jacket.  There was some kind of sport event in the main square; one game I saw had a ring at the top of a long pole that was in the ground.  The person had to throw a long concoction of roses into the ring.  Different, Interesting and it got the crowd goin a bit. 

The next day, sun a'blazin, we set off on a little hike through Cat Cat Village. From the get-go, this town provided some serious views and this hike only put us more into the midst if it all.  We met this awesome New Yorker, Robin, early on in the trek and we walked the whole way together.  It was a fairly short hike but we took our time, taking in views, shopping at the local markets (scarves, quilts, etc), taking pics and a few little detours.  The mountains were full of built in rice terraces (similar to Batad in the Philippines) and various farms within the mountains.  It's a region that's just jam packed with mountains and the local people worked with what they had.  All the mountain climbing must make for a tight butt!  It was really nice to see farmers going about their daily business, kids playing and regular life.  

The kids live interesting lives here.  What I'm about to describe seems to be more common for the ethnic minorities and the large majority rural population. From birth, they are strapped on the back of a parent by blankets while the parent farms, go to market and basically do whatever their daily life consists of.  In Sapa, It seems that once they are able to walk, the kids go about their day on their own.  They are always at least 2 together and you can tell they watch over and rely on each other, but we'd see small children all over the mountains and no adults in sight. We approached this one house with 3 kids and a large garbage bin type bucket with water in it.  1 of the 3 kids, about 2 years old was in it and the other 2 kids were trying to get him out.  There was no stress, none of the kids were scared, but it was a struggle so I went over to help the little guy out of the garbage pail.  he waddled around a bit, his naked hiney and all, and almost immediately tried to climb back in - too cute!

At the end of the trail was a cute little cafe overlooking the mountain where we stopped for cold drinks and sunflower seeds.  It was a really lovely afternoon.  After parting ways with our New Yorker who was heading back to America, we went for dinner.  Marj and I ate separately as I wanted market noodle soup and she wanted something, well less market food.  I found a lady that made me feel good, mainly by her smile and the fact that she kept showing me various veggies she would put in my soup.  The soup was off the chain - I no longer know where I had the best noodle soup in Vietnam.  All I know is I went back to this lovely lady for the vegetarian pho (noodles) every day I was in Sapa. 

  

Many of the tours bring you to these villages, meet the people of the various ethnic groups, have a meal with them and possibly stay a night with them.  But I read in many places this one hike was safe and do-able on your own so that's what I did on day 3.  Marj was hiked out from the day before but I had been jonesing for a solid day hike and looking forward to some time by myself.  The 2 ethnic minority villages I hiked through were in the heart of the rice terraces and it was simply stunning.  Throughout the day, I was greeted by some weary stares but also by some winning smiles.  I came across yet another church.  I chatted with the pastor, a 20 year old who could speak a little English - he was really nice and glad to have a visitor.

Of course, it rained pretty much all day. Thank goodness for my new "Northface" rain jacket.   It took me a bit longer to do the round trip because 2 times the rain was too heavy and I had to cover for shelter.  Ironically, this happened once on the way there and once on the way back, both times at the same location.  I was grateful for this because if it didn't rain, I wouldn't have made these stops and had these 2 lovely experiences.

The first stop, I was alone on a bench at the school I stopped at. I took my iPad out to take some photos and some notes when this little munchkina of about 1 years old waddles over, again shirt and no pants so hiney shining, with his grandpa.  Grandpa is dressed in the traditional H'momg garb.  I show the baby the pictures I took of my hike and thought it'd be cute to show him his own photo.  I feel a little strange taking photos of the kids because I dont know how they really feel about it, but I asked grandpa through charades and he grunted back, which I translated as a yes.  When I showed little munchkina his picture, he had no reaction despite me and grandpa oohing and aaahhhhing.  I then realized that the people who live here most likely don't have mirrors (extremely poor, live with basic, minimal necessities...if that) and so he most likely has never seen himself and didn't understand.  So i took a picture of all 3 of us and the little guys reaction when he saw his grandpa in the photo was adorable.  Squealing, jumping up and down, with a huge smile.  Made it worth my stop from the rain.

The second stop at the school on my way back was around lunchtime.  There were a few boys playing a game over by my bench and patch of drybess, so I went to watch them play.  I couldn't figure out what they were playing but it looked similar to what I've seen Thai kids play.  The main difference was that these guys were using rocks instead of plastic jacks used in my village (that alone shows the difference in economics).  The boys, snot running down their nose, holes in clothes, filthy and content, for the most part ignored me while younger boys, looking the same way ran around happily in the rain.  A few girls came over, in Traditional H'mong garb, clean, combed hair and nicely groomed.  It was interesting to see the stark difference in gender appearance.  Either way, all of the kids had perfect, gorgeous, white teeth.  This is completely different from every Thai kid who is lucky if they have teeth - they eat so much crap and sugar that every Thai kid I know has a rotting mouth....it's terrible. I took out my notebook to write notes so I wouldn't forget these endearing details and that caught everybody's attention.  I wrote my name and where I come from and explained to them what I was writing, then asked them to write their name and home town.  They all started to giggle and hold hands for comfort when one boy who had been playing jacks, with a smile that melted my heart, came forward and beautifully scripted his name, Chinh.  Some of Chinh's courage was infectious and a few others bravely scripted their name.  Before I know it, there are kids peeking over the fence - rougher looking kids who were clearly not at school.  They hopped over and scared off my sweet little guys, who did eventually come back.  But by this time, there were about 20 kids surrounding me repeating everything I said.  The rough looking boys began to act rough as well and although there was a lot of laughter, there was a lot of shoving, pushing, pulling, falling, etc and I didn't want to have to mediate anything.  By this time, the rain had stopped, so I gave some high fives and said good-bye.

Back in Sapa town, wet and hungry, where do you think I went? Yep, noodles at the market!  There was a Catholic Church in town center (I should note here that Ive seen more churches in Vietnam than I've seen Buddhist temples....so surprisingly odd to me) and they were hosting "Adoration of the Sacrament".  Having never been, not knowing what this was and traveling with an ex-nun, I was curious to check it out.  It was all in Vietnamese but Marj said they did and spoke the same way she would at the convent for the same "ceremony".  What was most interesting to us was that of about 50 Vietnamese participants, 45 were young people.  We were expecting a bunch of old ladies like we did saw in Thailand at temples and back home in churches, but it was the opposite.  

Later that night we met up with the 3 French Canadians we met in Hanoi and spent time with in Halong Bay.  It was so nice to spend our last night there with them - they are by far some of my favorite travelers we've met so far.  Marj went home early, so after my friends dropped me off at the hotel I was by myself to walk up the stairs to our room.  No biggie.  Except for the fact that as I walked passed reception, an enormously scary dog comes at me, growling his fangs glowing in the night.  I think I screamed.  I called the hotel Staffa bunch, hoping they could help me to no avail.  I tried to pass a few more times but was too scared.  I got a grilled corn on the cob from the street vendor to pass the time.  Now 45 minutes have passed by.  I tried to contact my friends thinking I could stay with them, but they were asleep.  Thankfully, another guest on the first floor came out for a cigarette.  I shared my dilemma with him, he got some bread to divert the dogs attention and away I went.  So glad for smokers.  One thing I can't wait for in America is domesticated dogs who don't attack anything with a pulse.

The unique ethnic minorities and the trekking are the two big draws to Sapa for tourists.  It's what drew me here.  We originally planned to take a day tour to meet with some of the people, eat with them and learn about them, but decided not to.  I think there were many reasons for this: we were tired and also because I kind of lost interest.  The ethnic groups are so interesting, but I thoroughly enjoyed my hike just walking through their villages.  Nobody harassed me to buy anything because I was surrounded by the people just going about their day.  The tours are a way for the locals to make an income, which I understand, but the attempts to constantly sell a tour and souvenirs wasn't borderline harassment, it was harassment.  All day long, all I'd say was "no thank you" over and over.  The only way they'd stop was when you ignored them, which felt worse to me but what I ended up doing.  The tourism, albeit bring income to poor communities and cultural exchange which is great, but I really feel it's cheapened the unique authenticity of these groups. They use their uniqueness to make a sale.  I love to see new things like this, but not while someone is over my shoulder the whole time making me feel bad for not buying.  To me, that's not what sharing culture should be about, and so we ended up not going on a tour.  Sad, but true.  I think that for them to really preserve their authenticity, they need to take Sapa off the high market.

Despite this, I loved my time in Sapa.  We got some nice hikes in, experienced something different and had a good time.  I was really looking forward to Laos and left on a night bus.  Most buses I've been on are pick-up and drop off services for the locals.  I can't lie, I've taken part in that in Thailand.  It's a quicker delivery than the postal system!  On this bus, we had all sorts of things comin and goin: tables, boxes, food, pillows, some of the mini stools for restaurant seating, etc.  Too funny.  We loved Vietnam and all the time we spent here.  My Dalat Easy Rider, Peter, called every other day while we were in Vietnam to see how we were.  The last day in Vietnam, we spoke to say a final good-bye and "love you's", he told me I had to let him know when I got a boyfriend so my man and I can come to Vietnam and ride with him.  I won't doubt that some day that happens.  So, it's not good-bye Vietnam, it's so-long Vietnam!

Hanging in Halong Bay

There were 7 of us from our hostel going to Halong Bay for 3 days and 2 nights.  We had all become friends during the previous 2 days in Hanoi.  Heidi (Irish) was traveling with New Zealanders Liam and Gus (Liam and Heidi met traveling and have been dating since....I know, too cute).  Then there was Ellie from Argentina and crazy Anuk from Holland, me and Marj.  We got picked up in a van for a 3-4 hour drive to Halong City.  Our tour guide was Ton and he talked a lot about the day and rules, etc, when we just wanted to stare out the windows and listen to our music.  We stopped at a rest stop and they made everybody wake up and get out of the bus....just more ways to get people to buy shit.  Don't they know we are all budget backpackers who 1) can't fit the enormous ceramic statues you are selling in our packs and 2) don't have $ to ship that?  I guess they don't know that.  

By the time we arrived into Halong City, it was raining and figured we wouldn't be using our bathing suits, but everybody was still in good spirits.  It was so touristy and Ton was serious about staying with the group that we all felt like we were on a school field trip.  Finally on our boat, setting sail, we could instantly tell why this is one of Vietnam's gems.  There are huge islands (look like big rocks) jutting out of the water all over the place.  It reminded me of Krabi in Thailand, but this bay had so many more islands - 1,979 to be exact.  It had stopped raining by lunchtime but was still cloudy, yet despite this you could see the beauty.  It was so peaceful.  There were 20 people on our boat and we all got to know each other over lunch.  There was an Australian couple and the lady was the only one not happy.  When they booked they were promised luxury and although the boat was fine, it was far from luxury.  Problem is they paid double what we did for the same thing which we learned earlier was part of the common scam for halong bay.  Luckily we knew these scams happened regularly, but I felt bad because nobody likes to get screwed over and Lord knows we've all been screwed.  Poor Ton, our tour guide who had nothing to do with this, was stuck having to mediate the situation and like most Asians who hate addressing conflict responded to her complaints like a robot: "Everybody is happy.  Everybody loves the boat.  Everybody is happy."  And that was verbatim, I heard it with my own 2 ears.  It most likely, only aggravated her more.  Marj and I want to set up a business to teach various, more helpful, response tactics.

The afternoon was full of walking through more caves (don't you worry, there were neon lights in this one too) and kayaking.  Ton exclaimed some ridiculousness that we should pay for a raft instead of the included kayak because everything was wet.  Buuuut, we were going in the water regardless, wet was a probable outcome whether we chose raft or kayak.  Hmmm, maybe Ton was in on the scams after all.....Well, nothing was stopping us from kayaking, as with most other people.  Ironically, all the Vietnamese tourists chose rafts and all the foreigners were in kayaks.

By the afternoon, Ton informed us that the 7 of us were leaving the boat to go to Cat Ba Island and to stay in a hotel for the night.  We were sad to leave our new friends but carried on.  The drive through the small island, alone, was worth getting off the bus.  It was beautiful.  the town center itself was cute and after dinner, Marj and I hit up the "night market".  I put this in quotes because it was maybe 15 stalls all selling the same, gaudy things...not much of a market.  but we got a good laugh.  We did see a roller blading park where a lot of young boys were blading around; it seemed like the cool thing to do.  It was an early night, which wasn't a bad thing - 2 nights of free beer and rice wine had taken a toll on me and I passed out. 

the next morning we went to Cat Ba National Park for a nice hike and then spent the afternoon strolling the island.  we ended up back in the boat that night: same boat as the day before, but a different guide and all new people.  We actually had 3 of our hostel mates join us at this point, Tom, Maude and Annabelle from Canada, and they were adorable so we were happy to be reunited.  We all exchanged stories of swapping boats and people throughout the past 2 days.  There was a system in place that nobody could figure out.

We go to our rooms on the boat, as Titanic music is playing and I hear a splash in the water.  Liam and Gus were jumping off the rooftop of the boat!  I screamed a good cheerleader scream, got super excited and ran in my room to get my bathing suit on.  After my first jump, again with a good scream all the way into the water, I thought they'd get less scary, but they didn't.  Four of us were going to jump together and on the count of 3 they all went in, but I froze, screamed and took a second to jump in after them!  Even those not jumping in were having a good time with all of this, when we saw something swimming in the water towards us.  Two guys, a German and a Frenchman, swam over from their boat about 300 meters from ours (we were docked over night) to join in our fun!  Now that's dedication.  Unfortunately it was time for dinner and they didn't stay long.  

We had heard that alcohol on the boat was expensive and so Marj and I were glad to bring the vodka we still had.  Pretty much all of our friends on the boat did this-our French Canadian friends invited us to use their mixers and so we hung out with them playing "never have i ever". We heard the boat across the way really making good use of their karaoke machine (boat with our german and french swimmers) and we were inspired.  To sing that is, not swim there :). S, it took our boat guys a solid 15 minutes to get the karaoke machine set-up.  we were confused because, like every good Thai, every good Vietnamese has karaoke pre-set-up in anticipation singers will come.  Either way, we got things movin.  This was my first experience singing Jingle Bells for karaoke, but I think having missed the past 2 Christmases made me extra ecstatic and I belted it out for Old Saint Nick.  As Let's go Barbie is belted on the microphone, we see not 2, but 3, things swimming in the water towards our boat.  Our German and French friends brought over another German who wanted in on our fun!  They were not shy, got themselves a beer, grabbed the mic and sang away!  The tour guides on the boats all got wind of this, phones started ringing, lots of discussion, some " yelling" and such.  Sadly, all of the commotion was over our 3 new friends and they were made to leave too quickly.   

The next day was really relaxed just sailing back to Halong City.  We stopped for lunch and back to Hanoi we were.  Not having a particularly strong desire to spend another day in Hanoi, we booked called our hostel there and they booked us an overnight bus to Sapa that same day.  We were happy the timing was working out so well.  

We made it back in time into Hanoi for me to get one last dish of delicious noodles from the stand across the street (the Pho ended up rocking my world once I figured out how to say it vegetarian....blissful) and one last fresh fruit shake.  While Anuk and I were off getting the shakes our bus came, but couldn't wait for us because its illegal.  So, some random guy on his bike came to tell us where the bus was waiting for us and carried Marjie's bag too.  Stuff like that only happens in SE Asia....randoms going out of their way, it's quite generous.  So, we arrive to the "bus" and it's actually a van, like a cramped one.  We figured an overnight on this should be interesting, and sleepless.  But, I reminded Marj and Anuk it could be worse - we could have livestock with us :)

Hello Hanoi :)

We arrived to our hostel in Hanoi, the first hostel we've stayed in while in Vietnam.  Hostels are a great place for backpackers because it's cheap and you meet so many other travelers.  Because Marj and I are 2, it's been cheaper to get a room at a regular place.  We were in Hanoi for the actual holiday of Liberation Day and fearful everything would be booked, so we reserved space at a hostel a friend told us about.  It was worth it for many reasons: one being that it was very cheap, two being free beer at night and more importantly three, we got free breakfast with unlimited coffee.  Yes, please.  While waiting for our beds, we met all the other people staying there.  It was a fun morning of free breakfast, coffee comin' on the regs and good conversation with interesting people.

In Hanoi, all of the main sites are closed on Mondays and Fridays.  Guess what day we arrived? That's right, Monday.  We were really OK with this because we weren't in any state to navigate around the city to see the sights and also because there weren't many sights we cared to see.  We read that many of the historical museums were subjective and full of propaganda, as most we had gone to had a bit of, and by this time we were over it....not like we were ever actually into it but, you know.  It was a huge holiday and we thought Hanoi being the capitol, would have some cool cultural stuff and/or celebrations going on. Instead, the Liberation Day celebrations are similar to our Fourth of July in which everybody leaves the city to hit the beach.  Surprised, we decided to just walk around and soak up the feel of the city.  It was so much more relaxed and chill compared to crazy Saigon.  This could be because we were the only ones in the city!  Either way, it was a pretty and charming city.

We, of course, went on a mad search for food.  We passed a family eating tons of food on the table that looked vegetarian and I was curious.  I didn't do a full on stop, just a slow walk-by to get a good look at the food and they asked us to join them.  This was right after a man on the street got on his knees to super glue my janky sneakers that make me look like a poor person (my soles are, bit by bit, falling apart) without asking me. I continued to walk away telling him "no" and he crawled on his knees following me trying to stick his glue in my shoe.  Knowing nothing is for free anywhere, particularly in this country, I asked "free?"  Of course it wasn't but he continued to stick his glue in my soles.  I had to kick my feet away from him and continuously say "no" until he finally gave up.  This happened 4 more times throughout the day with their business tactic being "Oh my God, look at your shoes-terrible, terrible" and I was all like, "Stop talking shit about my shoes!".  So, after having experienced this, I was weary of this family asking us to join them, for free, as they handed over a piece of tofu.  We ate the tofu and I kept asking "how much?" because I didn't want to sit, eat with them and then have to pay an arm and a leg.  Good thing because after a minute of sitting there while they thought up a price, they said 60,000 dong ($3), which is a way overly priced meal here.  We laughed and carried on.  Marj and I got a good laugh wondering if we could continue walking through the streets to get free taste tests without ever paying for a meal.  Instead we got some good cheap street food for 10,000 dong ($0.50)

We spent the late afternoon at a nearby lake where tons of locals and foreigners alike were hanging out.  We read and wrote, I went for a run and was pleasantly surprised to see other Vietnamese runners.  There was lovely grass all around, but every public place we've been to with grass in Vietnam, has a sign stating you can't go on it - so let me get this straight: there's grass here but I can't sit/stand/roll around/lay/ run my toes through it? What? I know, it's crazy.  And maybe this is just because it's forbidden, but I've never wanted to run my toes through grass as badly as I want to here!  Vietnam has gained many points in my book, but sorry guys, gotta take away a point for this one :)

We had heard from our cool hostel mates that a visit to the prison museum was interesting and Marj felt if we went, it'd be like a tribute to our boys who served.  I'm def down with that. So, the following day we got some vegetarian food (we were told by Americans we met along the way this was the best veggie food they've ever had anywhere and after eating there, I feel a vegetarian obligation to take them out as there are so many restaurants that have better food - yet the food was still very good) and hit up the prison thing.

I went totally ignorant to what it all was, but learned it was a prison built by the French in the late 1800's (please don't quote me on this date) to enprison Vietnamese revolutionaries.  As I've written, Vietnamese were always controlled by others and revolutionizing against it.  In the early 1900's a large Revolution against the French went down and hundreds were prisoned here.  The museum showed awful treatment of the Vietnamese prisoners by the French, as most POW's are treated; not justifying it but making a general point that this, sadly, is common practice. Not enough food, poor hygiene leading to disease, etc. In 1954 when the French were finally kicked out, the prison was not used for anything.  Not until the Vietnamese reinstated it as a prison for American pilots.

The second part of the museum had videos, pictures and other propaganda showing how the Vietnamese treated the American prisoners.  Apparently everybody in the world treats POW's poorly, except for the Viet Cong who treated the American pilots like gold.  The prisoners were granted feasts, regular exercise, smoked cigarettes, drank beer, exchanged culture, played card games, had lavish Christmas celebrations, received letters and care packages from home, and even got to pull a few solid bong hits, all thanks to the Viet Cong army. Furthermore, so much was shared between the Viet Cong army and American "prisoners" that the "prisoners" finally recognized how awful they were, felt remorseful and guilty, and realized that America was wrong in the whole situation of the war.  This was all displayed via videos with vocals, pictures and various statements.  I walked away from this section because it clearly was BS to me.  The museum (aka the government) made this prison seem like vacation at the Hilton.  Ironically enough, that's exactly what American prisoners sarcastically called it: "The Hanoi Hilton".   You know, many mistakes were made throughout the war, on both accounts.  Both sides tortured, killed and destroyed lives. We all know that so just give me the honest truth, which I never felt I got 100% honesty at any of the museums here, and I could respect and appreciate that more.  Despite all of this, I am glad we went to see it to pay tribute to our boys and all of those, Vietnamese revolutionaries included, who sadly had to spend parts of their lives there.

With no holiday celebrations and a sudden thunderstorm, we spent the evening drinking free beer and rice wine.  Final outcome on the rice wine, drumroll please: it was better than Thailand's rice wine that is like rubbing alcohol on fire, but not as delicious as the Philippines or Cambodia's rice wine.  The next morning we were heading off to Halong Bay, a bay of islands that was written in the books as one of Vietnam's gems.  The only way to do it is with a tour-like visit.....that's just the way it's all been established.  Because of this, there are many scams and so we booked with the lovely Leo and Phung, the couple who owned the hostel.  We were told by hostel mates it was a good trip at the cheapest price.....we'd soon find out we were some of the few who made the right choice.

The last bit with Le

The next morning we got in our wheels and peeled off.  Hhmmm, well we were in a car so not really.  But by this point I had realized that the 2 day drive was certainly do-able on a motorbike even though Le said it was impossible.  The thing was, Le was starting to expand his business to include car service and we were his guinea pigs.  Of course he never told us that, but in conversation with him, we pieced the puzzle.  So as excited as I was for this day, I was a bit annoyed with Le that I wasn't peeling away on a bike.  

The Ho Chi Minh Trail.  Yes, we have all heard about it and anything with Uncle Ho's name in it means we typically don't like it, but what the hell is it?  This is what Marj and I have been wondering.  Maybe you are really well versed on these things, but for those of you who are like Marj and I, I'll give you a little 411 on the HCMT.  Long before the war, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, all had tiny dirt pathways in their respective country that crossed through each others country, running through the midst of the dangerous jungle (that should be read in dangerous story book voice).  All paths were literally in the middle of nowhere and back then, the people who were aware of them and used them were those real bad-ass guys running around in loin cloths, fighting off tigers and deadly snakes with bare hands and the like.  Maybe not loin cloths, but you know what I'm talking about.  P

So during the war, good ol Uncle Ho decided to put these little secret paths to good use for the Viet Cong.  Cambodia and Laos were supporting the North and with their approval, the Viet Cong bridged and expanded on these paths to create a full blown secret trail that began in northern Vietnam, ran all through the middle of the country, parts of Laos and Cambodia, and ended in the south.  This helped the Viet Cong secretly invade various parts of the south.  When the Americans realized what was up, they began to drop secret wires from planes along pathways they either knew or estimated were part of the trail.  The wires looked like tree branches and were attached to a pointy thing that would land right in the ground.  Then, when someone would rub up against the "tree branch" aka, secret wire, it would send signal to the Americans to help them figure out the direction of the path.  Brilliant on both sides.  But the HCMT itself certainly takes the cake and was recorded as one of the greatest war strategies in the 20th century.  

The government has since paved the trail and made it a legit road, yet it remains a road amongst the jungles that, still, nobody dares to enter ( dangerous story book voice).

  After the war, ethnic minority groups moved along the road and now use some of the land between road and jungle for farming as the soil is very rich. Other than a few little villages with few people, there is nobody around, largely because the HCMT is a very winding road through the mountains and takes longer to get from A to B than it would be to take the regular highway.  Having gathered this info beforehand, it as something we definitely wanted to see and do.  So, you can guess how stoked I wasvto be "peeling away" to spend the morning driving on it.  I mean, it's the HCMT!  And the ride was absolutely gorgeous.  Everywhere you look is one view more breathtaking than the next....pictures don't do it close to justice.  Marj kept commenting on how thick the jungle was and we decided it looked like broccoli all throughout the mountain range. I can't say it enough, it's the journey, not the destination.

And yet our destination was pretty cool too.  We were heading to Phong Nga Cave, the largest cave in the world.  I think Marj and I loved the boat ride to the cave more than anything.  Just motorin' away on this lake in the middle of the mountains, kids swimming on the shores, people fishing, cattle grazing....it was picturesque.  We entered the cave and it was massive.  The best/funniest part of the cave may have been the neon lights.  Nothing says gaudy better than neon lights, and that's what lit up the cave....it was pretty hysterical.  We got a chance to walk around and while doing so, Marj ran into this old, adorable Vietnamese lady (this is a huge Vietnamese tourist attraction) and helped her along the way.  At the end we ran into her again and the lady went up to Marj, grabbed her hand, hugged her and thanked her.  They were both laughing, saying thank you in their respective languages, hugging and Marj near tears of course....another beautiful moment in which language is unnecessary to connect.

The boat ride back, a group of young boys were still swimming along the shore.  All of a sudden we see all of the boys run out of the water, grab their clothes ( they swim nakey) and begin to run. They were running away from a fisherman who obviously didn't want them in the water as he chased them with a stick.  Probably a scary adrenaline rush for the kids, but it was an endearing scene.

Back in our wheels we head to the national park for a lovely little hike.  After this, we went to the nearest city, Dong Hoi, to catch an overnight sleeper bus heading to Hanoi. While waiting for our bus, we went to get some dinner.  By this point, I'd realized Vietnamese food is all about noodles and soups, yet I hadn't been crazy about them.  Well, we stopped at a little street vendor, sat at the mini table in mini chairs and I had the best noodle soup in Vietnam, jam packed with veggies and egg.  These little random places always have the best food. Full-bellied, we got on our bus, or should I say we were shoved into the bus - it's like bus employees are the absolute worst.  They are always super disorganized and down-right rude, pushing and shoving, grunting and yelling, and make the tourist bus interesting and super frustratin  Onwards to the Capitol of Hanoi.  Away we go....

Not in the south anymore....

The big difference between the north and the south is that in the south, you are just in Vietnam.  While in the North, you sense you are in a once divided country because it's everywhere....it's a feeling.  The people are also different....nice, but harder.  These 2 days were spent in areas where tourists typically don't go and so we were quite foreign to the "mountain people" as they were called by other Northerners.  

Our first stop was to a Citadel that marked an area of the old, no longer existing, Monarch's stomping grounds which was used as a base during the war by the Viet Cong (North Vietnam / Liberation Army) - much was destroyed due to bombings and it's since been made into a memorial.  It's important to note that April 30, 1975 was the day that South Vietnam was completely taken over by the North, marking April 30th as Vietnam's Liberation Day.  This day of our tour was April 27th, an important time for the country, and so there were many people there burning fake money and clothes for those passed (as I've mentioned before).

Next stop was a Catholic Church built by the French that was destroyed due to the popular battle that lasted 81 days, 81 nights in 1972 - you could see the once beautiful church behind the bullet holes and destruction.  The most interesting part of the day for me was going to the Vinh Moc tunnels.  Because this was an area with so much fighting/bombing, civilians were constantly in danger.  Therefore, the people of Vinh Moc village built an underground tunnel that was 2000 km long.  Over 8 years, almost 2,000 people lived in the tunnel; they had wells inside for water, went to school, had meetings, the whole bit. About 80 babies were born in there each year.  We walked through some of it and it was quite narrow, having to bend over through some parts. In the south, there are tunnels similar to this called the Cu Chi tunnels and although we didn't go there, I understand those tunnels were even smaller, having to crawl through.  Meanwhile people lived in there like that for years.  There were many terrible things about this war, but probably the worst part is the number of civilians that died.  Marj and I have been doing a lot of our own research just to grasp a greater understanding of a hard-to-understand war, and there were many civilian deaths because nobody knew who to trust.  The Viet Cong and the South/America both had many informants, undercovers providing inside info, locals providing support in various ways, and so so so many actual soldiers, that everybody was seen as a threat to both sides.  As if war isn't bad enough, that can really mess with your mind.

As we were driving, we passed a group of people on the side of the road digging up a hole and had the little station set up with incense and other offerings.  Le told us that families dig up bodies of the dead after a certain number of years (depending on the family) to retrieve the bones, burn them and save the ashes.  It's always sad when someone dies and the body is never retrieved, which happens so often in war and genocides.  Because many bodies of the Vietnam War were never found, loved ones were unable to dig up the bodies.  Both American and Vietnamese bodies are all over the country, unknown.  Le shared with us that there is a lady who is quite famous now, who has a psychic-type ability and finds where bodies are for families to dig up.  Thus far, she's located 10,000 Vietnamese who died during the war. The government, who typically doesn't believe or encourage this, has been convinced she is legit and is encouraging her services.  The woman was always just a normal chick, but a few years ago was bit by a rabied dog and never got treatment. Lucky to be alive, she apparently was also given this special ability.

Hien Luong Bridge is the bridge over the Ben Hai River that divided the country in two, built by the French.  For many years there were tons of French, American and Vietnamese guarding the area, keeping it separate and making it a hot spot for fighting.  In 1975, it was no longer seen as the bridge that divided but rather a symbol of reunification.  There are some beautiful photos of families being reunited after years of separation, quite special.  Of course there's a museum nearby and huge photos of Uncle Ho everywhere.  The patriotism is nice, but for me, the Uncle Ho stuff is too much.  It's also very clear that the Communist government doesn't give any alternative to patriotism.  It's very much in your face, and it's increased the further north we go.  We were told by some Vietnamese that nobody talks about their real feelings about the government out of fear.  They are able to share with foreigners because other Vietnamese don't speak English.  So all of these museums use a lot of propaganda to show how awful the American side was and the suffering we caused. It's always portrayed as the American side and the American War, not the Americans supporting the south or as a civil war, which really, I think it was a little of both. Like I've said before, I'd never minimize the suffering we caused, but the Viet Cong did a lot of damage to Americans and their own people as well and it's never shown.  One thing I will say is that they always show how the American people didn't want the war.

The idea of reunification is quite lovely.  It's amazing how this country has been controlled by others (Chinese, Japanese, French, American) forever and how long they had to revolutionize against it.  The Viet Cong were very much people who were angry and just wanted to be Vietnam, and I appreciate and respect that.  During that time, Uncle Ho did a really good job of rallying his people too; women, ethnic minorities who historically have been discriminated against and teenagers all fought.  Kids helped by working on building various weapons.  That is crazy to me.  This, to me, helps to explain why Vietnamese people are known to be less warm than other SE Asian people.  They are harder because all they know is challenge and survival.  Yet, with the exception of the frustrating and nasty money exchanges, I've found the people to be quite nice.

The last stop for the day was a 300 hectare piece of land that was an American base during the war.  Only 3 hectares were kept as the site of the base and museum, the rest is used for farming.  The Americans didn't have it easy here, but this base was smack in the middle of the mountains and surrounded by beauty. 

During afternoon coffee time, we asked Le some questions, one being my most common question "are the Vietnamese still angry or dislike Americans?"  He said that the young people aspire to be like America and love it.  He said there are still older people who hold some resentment, but not everybody.  After a long and heavy day, I went for an evening run.  It was a run full of greetings, giggles, waves, people asking me where I'm from, kids chasing after me, and offerings of a ride, as though I was running to get somewhere, rather than just for fun.  Same same in Thailand.  It reiterated to me that despite the past, we are still welcomed here.  It was a refreshing way to end the day.

The Hue (a city pronounced h-way) to the North

I woke up from a hot and sweaty nap to taxi and motorbike drivers on me like a bag of chips to use their service.  Yet another fiasco haggling - we ended up on a motorbike and when we arrived they said the price we agreed upon was per person, not 2 people, which was a total lie. It just never ends.  They wanted an extra 30,000 dong ($1.50) for both of us; I gave them 10,000 and we walked away. Marj watched our stuff while I walked around looking for a place; my final stop I was greeted by this adorable lady with a gorgeous smile and warm face and I was sold.  The price was perfect also.  We settled in and began the search for food because we were starving.  Much of our search we talked about how it's impossible to find food here and I'm talking anything: a stall, street food, canteens, restaurants, whatevs - this is absurdly different from Thailand where people are practically shoving food down your throat and then you walk 50 feet and there's more.  Another reason I feel lucky for serving in Thailand.  Vietnamese food is great, but overall, nothing in SE Asia compares to Thai food.

After over 1 hour of aimlessly searching, we stop at a cafe for some iced coffee.  We begin talking to this young Vietnamese guy, Le, who tells us about tours he gives.  In and outside of Hue there is tons of war history. Hue is very close to the Ben Hai River which separated the north from the south for years before and throughout the war.  There were many brutal battles fought there meaning a large American presence.  Marj and I have been soaking up this history as much as we can and really wanted to get out of the city and see where much of the war went down.  Le was telling us about his services that included everything we wanted and then some.  We wanted to do it on motorbike again but only had 2 days for a 3 day ride, so Le said it must be done in a car.  It was not necessarily in our budget so we wanted to think about it first.  We hadn't eaten yet and I don't know about you, but my brain doesn't function when my stomach is growling. Le told us of this vegetarian place that was next to a temple.  He said it started with serving monks from the temple but many locals go there too because its delicious, cheap Vietnamese food and portions are plentiful.  Music to my ears.

The restaurant did not disappoint.  It was by far the best vegetarian restaurant I'd been to on my travels.  With full bellies Marj and I agreed that this tour with Le would be worth it - much of what we had learned from locals and other guides was through the eyes of Southern Vietnamese whose families fought side by side with Americans.  We were curious to speak with and learn through a different set of eyes, and Le was Northern Vietnamese. 7am the next day we set off with Le and the driver, Tan.  We drove over this bridge, one we had become all too familiar with the day before looking for food, but this time we learned we were crossing Perfume River.  There are 2 stories behind this name: 1) the river begins in the North where there are many flowers causing the water to have a beautiful scent 2) (my preference) There was a young couple in love whose families didn't want them together.  The young man had to go into the army and was killed.  The girl, unwilling to live without her love, jumped into the river to die and her love for him made the river smell beautiful, hence the name, Perfume River.  Sad, but romantic.

This bridge led us to 2 days of emotions, beauty, answers to some questions and some more questions.  It's a lot of information so I will post the next 2 days as a separate blog.

Hoi an, the most lovely place

The hotel we were staying at in Hoi an, despite difficulties in communicating, picked us up at the bus station which was nice.  As soon as we got in the car, the guy was trying to get us to book tours with him and I was turned off immediately but gave him the benefit of the doubt, especially since the girl at the front desk was an absolute gem and she wore one of those beautiful traditional Vietnamese outfits....So cute.  While waiting for our room, we booked some flights we had to take care of.  The staff found out because we needed to get our passports back from them for the electronic booking, and they got mad!  They seriously were annoyed we didnt book our flights home with them!  When Marj turned her back at one point to look at something, the guy started to make faces at her like a 5 year old.  At that point, I was just pissed and he lost all cred in my book.  I sternly told him it was our business, none of his and that was enough.  Then I looked at Marjie and said even more sternly, "this guy is pissing me off".  He didn't bother us at all after that (I must say that everybody else who worked there, other than him, were an absolute pleasure and very helpful), but it was a welcome to the first of many attitudes we'd get in Hoi an, only when it came to exchange of money. 

We walked to the Old Quarter in the afternoon, small little streets with shops, coffee stops and restaurants.  All of the buildings were the same color of mustard yellow with vines and colorful flowers up the side....very aesthetically pleasing.  We learned that it was a full moon, a big deal here, and there would be a lantern festival.  Basically, the Old Quarter shuts off all the lights in the streets and shops while everything is lit by lanterns.  After our afternoon walk through the beautiful streets, we couldn't wait to come back that evening.

Later that night on our walk to the Old Quarter, each home, shop, store, etc had a little table in front with candles, incense, flowers, snack foods and the like to pay homage and pray for good things for family and loved ones.  It reminded me of these little Buddha station set-ups that every Thai home had: a Buddha statue, flowers, incense, candles, drinks and other snacks to pay respects to Buddha and offerings to the dead.  Some would wai this station every night and some only on special occasions.  Nonetheless, it was similar to what the Vietnamese were doing for the Lantern Festival, main difference being that the Vietnamese were doing it on the sidewalk whereas Thai's do it in their home or at the temple.  They were also burning things like clothes, fake money and cigarettes.  We weren't sure why, but we've learned that at funerals fake money is thrown on the walk to the burial ground (they bury, not burn, unlike the Thai's) and at memorial services they burn significant necessities like clothes and fake money for the dead in the after-life.  So, I assume they were burning stuff for those who have already passed.  

The Old quarter was beautiful as we suspected.  We strolled around just taking it all in.  A little girl approached us asking to buy these pretty boxes with candles inside that are sent off in the river that runs through Hoi an, for good wishes for loved ones. Again this was similar to a Thai Festival called Loy Kratong.  Only difference is in Thailand, we'd make the beautiful "boxes"  out of banana leaves and flowers, some were quite fancy, to hold the candle and then send off in the river.  All for good luck, happiness and such for loved ones.  

Walking around worked up an appetite and we stopped for dinner.  I had seen this local Hoi an dish called Cao Lau.  Vietnam is big on noodle dishes and this was a variation: noodles, veggies and pork (they used tofu instead for me....there is tofu everywhere here, its quite vegetarian friendly.  I give credit to the vegetarian monks).  Usually, the noodles are in a soup broth but this was in a light sauce, both sweet and savory and egg noodles were used instead of the typical rice or glass noodles, which was right up my alley.  It was so delicious, and looked so delish that the couple next to me asked what I was eating as I had just shoveled a chopstick full of noodles in my mouth.  I turned around to answer, noodles slapping me in the face, sucking them up real quick.  It wasn't my most attractive moment and the couple chuckled a bit as I said, "can you tell I'm enjoying this?!"  Have I informed you yet of my abnormal eating habits, abnormal to American standards that is? I rarely used utensils in Thailand as we ate with our hands and if I ever did use a utensil, it was spoon - we NEVER used forks.  Since being in Vietnam, I've adopted chopsticks, maybe a spoon, but what I love most is the shoveling of food into the mouth that goes on, because that is how I eat. It's as though I fear someone is going to take it away from me....so just shovel it as quick as I can, and I fit right in.  So, not only do I now need a biker, I need a biker who can openly accept my sub-standard American eating habits.  It'd be really cool if he ate like me, but that's not a requirement.  He just has to accept, that's all I need.  Not too much to ask, right?

So we end up chatting with this great English couple, with Indian heritage but grew up in Kenya, such interesting lives.  The girls dad owns an orphanage in India so we exchanged info, as that could be a potential something in my future.  After they left, Marj and I were giggling about something, tears rolling down our faces when 2 guys sat in the same seats of the English couple.  Aly was American, jack of all trades, and Marco a Swiss who was traveling before going on to grad school.  I ended up going out with them to a bar called "good and cheap bar", once again, the bar cutting right to the chase, and had a great time swapping home country stories, traveling stories and our experiences in Vietnam....while drinking good and cheap Larue and Saigon beers.  It was a good night.

The next two days Marj and I rented bikes and just biked in and out of town (I went back for the Cao Lau for breakfast one day, that's how good it was).  Outside of town we biked through various local villages, biked to the beach to relax and just observed the regular way of life.  I love food shopping so when we came into the fruit and veggie market, I had to stop.  This is where we got the attitude that I was referring to earlier. If you asked a price and then said "no thank you" or told a salesperson who was on your ass to buy something that you were "just looking", you got a roll of the eyes, nasty noises thrown your way or verbal angst as well.  You don't need to know the language to know when someone says something nasty about you.  Regardless, I found some lovely ladies to buy my carrots and cucumbers from.  My favorite part about this market was the garbage man.  A the end of the day, he walked around pulling a wheelbarrow while everybody threw their trash bags in.  I've seen garbage trucks everywhere here but the streets are so narrow and the truck can't fit, so garbage gets picked up in the market via wheelbarrow...super impressive.  Both days were lovely, relaxing and enjoyable. 

Our last night, before going out, I bought some food at the local minimart for the next day, a travel day.  The people who owned it had been pleasant every time I went I there and I always said hello and thank you in Vietnamese. I guess they figured they could teach me a few more words because the husband began to teach me the words on my yogurt box.  The whole family comes around the counter to help, I take out my note pad where I write all the new words I learn, and we had a little Vietnamese lesson.  They were really cute and patient with my awful pronunciation, but it was a really nice moment for me.  We have met many Vietnamese people who speak English very well because they are in the tourist business, but it's been hard to communicate with locals. It's very different from Philippines where we had in depth conversations with locals, and more like Thailand where no locals speak English. This moment with the minimart family was a way to share something, exchange kindness and laughs without a need of fluent language.  It was really nice.  Hoi an has been my favorite town/city so far in Vietnam.  Easy riders will remain my most memorable experience, and Hoi an is my favorite place.

To save some money and to experience the local bus, which is always interesting, I found out how we could use public transport to get to the next place.  The lady at the town information center kept putting me off because she said that the local bus was too inconvenient for me, that I must take the tourist bus.  After some back and forth saying that's ok, I finally said, "Let's just say, for a minute, that I want things to be inconvenient, how can I get to the local bus stop?"  She was not pleased with me and although she reluctantly answered all of my questions with an attitude I'd say exuded poor customer service, she did give me the info I wanted.  I was really excited about figuring it all out and the next morning we were off.  

The first bus was about one hour, which included the typical million stops to pick up randoms on the street.  There was another white guy on the bus who had been dropped off by a Vietnamese friend of his and he told us she said it should cost us 20,000 dong ($1) per person. Every foreigner knows that almost everybody we encounter in a money exchange is trying to rip us off, so we thanked him for the info so we could be properly prepared to haggle.  Low and behold, the bus attendant said it was 30,000 dong.  We told him we called earlier (which is humorous in itself because nobody calls the local bus stop for prices in these parts) and were told it was 20,000.  He laughed and said, "ok, ok, 25,000 dong because of your bags".  We said "that's crazy, we are only paying 20,000".  I handed him 40,000 for 2 people and he walked away without saying another word.  When the perso trying to rip you off knows they are wrong, they typically give in quickly, especially when you hand them money - it's as though the handing over of money is the last word.  Despite the constant scams and haggling in Vietnam, there are apparently serious fines against anybody who gets caught scamming foreigners, so the haggling usually doesn't last long.

We got off at the Danang bus station, 3rd largest city in the country, and went off in search of the 2nd bus we had to take to get us to the final location of Hue.  We were instantly attacked by people trying to get us on their bus, pulling us, saying "cheap price" and showing me a 100,000 dong bill (to show me the cost) when I knew it should only cost 50,0000, yelling (in Vietnamese this is simple talking but sounds and feels like yelling to me) and basically overwhelming the crap out of us (this is a common experience exiting any bus in SE Asia....at least the places Ive been to).  Did I mention I had gone out the night before and was on like 2 hours of sleep? Yeah, so this was slightly less than fun.  We go to the ticket booth and it takes about 5 hours to communicate " 2 people to Hue" even with charades and the whole bit.  It's like they are all in cahoots to confuse us.  Finally someone says it 50,000 which I had read was a legit price.  Then the lady says an extra 60,000 for our bags (bags go under the bus along with the Vietnamese people's bags, boxes, rice bags, etc) and I knew this was complete bullshit.  I gave her one of my looks and just kept saying "no" like a broken record and finally they took our bags and we got man handled onto the bus.  Then we realized we never got a ticket and I had internal anxiety for a hot second that they were going to say we didn't pay, but that feeling passed eventually, and that never happened.  Just goes to show how your mind and body prepare for the crap that's most likely in the near future around here...it's exhausting!  

We finally get out of the bus station, which took a while because nothing happens quickly here.  Then we sit on the bus in the middle of the street for 30 minutes waiting for late comers, then take another 15 minutes going down the block at a speed so slow that could make someone go crazy, all while the bus driver held his hand on the horn to let everybody know the bus was coming.  Most bus drivers I've encountered in SE Asia do this, just drive with their hand on the horn. Just one more thing that could drive someone to crazy-town.  I also got "yelled" at because I wasn't sitting where the bus driver wanted me to sit so I had to schlep around to his satisfaction.  Marj and I ended up hysterical laughing from the sheer ridiculousness of all that was going on.  We arrived 3 hours later, having lost a few pounds in sweat (no a/c), saved a whopping $1.50, all for the experience of riding the local bus.  And I do not regret it.  This was so much better than the "convenient" (i.e. boring) tourist bus.  We had made it to Hue.