South East Asia Adventure | Luang Prabang trekking day 1

Kuang Xi waterfall, near Luang Prabang

Our favourite times were spent outdoors breathing fresh air and getting some exercise. We spent two days trekking outside Luang Prabang. The first was a short 4-hour trip through two side-by-side villages, one Khmu and one H’mong, where we picked up our “local” guide, and then carried on to the Kuang Xi waterfall.

The water cascades down the mountain again and again, like a tumbling gymnast. There is one pool after another of milky turquoise water, like Lake Louise in the summertime. Lunch was set in an open garden near the bottom; tour companies had set tables, some with wine glasses and table linens, all around this park (an outdoor cafe?), and  Ded and I (Margaret was sick) ate a great lunch including the best fresh spring rolls. These are what we call a salad roll, and here in Lao everything has a touch of Thai to it so the flavour of everything is really boosted with galangal and kaffir lime leaves. They were undoubtedly the best I’ve ever eaten, ordered from Tamnak Lao restaurant the day before and delivered onsite by our driver!

NO, that's not me!

 You can jump right in and cool off or warm up as the case may be, but no thanks. These crazy people are jumping from a tree into the fresh spring water.


I ended the afternoon with a visit to the bear sanctuary. They are Asian Black Bears, about the size of a grizzly without the grizzly hump. The sanctuary is dedicated to increasing the population, and although they are behind wire fencing, they were lots of fun to watch. Our guide told me that he likes to come here with his friends on a weekend to swim, read, play games, and have a picnic, so it's popular with the local people as well as with tourists. It's just a short drive out of town, even though it took us almost three hours to walk here!

South East Asia Adventure | A day in Hanoi with Ron and Glenda

It's a few days ago now (I don't actually know how many after crossing back over the dateline) that we arrived back in Hanoi. After being greeted by our driver and guide, we dropped our bags at the now familiar Ruby Emerald Hotel (we felt like old friends coming back to a favourite haunt), grabbed a taxi, and headed for the Sofitel Metropole, a grand colonial style upscale hotel, where we met  long-ago colleague Ron Cammaert and his wife Glenda for drinks. We agreed to meet for breakfast at their apartment (Ron works in Hanoi) in the 'expat' district in the morning and then decide from there where to go and what to do.

Hanoi looks very different from the fifth floor of one of those tall, skinny houses. The apartment, which occupies the whole floor, is modern, so this was not a typical arrangement. Two bedrooms, two baths, a combined kitchen, eating area and living room, and a view. Right below was Truc Bach lake and beyond, West Lake, and we could see highrise apartments above, and small coffee clatches of kids playing board games along the lakeside below. After breakfast we strolled the lakeside walkway and took in first, Glenda's local market. In addition to the usual though, we caught the zumba hour, quite a fun moment when most of the women were shakin' it up to loud music. Of course, we had to join in! Margaret will have to post her video for you to see this! It's really quite hilarious.

Marking the shooting down of John McCain during the American War

Truc Bach lake is, famously, where John McCain was shot down during the "American War" and there is a memorial to this event to celebrate it. He's looking a lot better now.

WE also had a chance to watch this woman SET FREE about 20 small birds into the air as a memorial to her ancestors. There were three women in all, and each one had done something different, but all quietly prayed to the ancestors as they did so. It was quite touching, a serene moment, a bit of Vietnamese tradition that we were able to witness.




We stopped by the neighborhood pagoda, one of two, and took these shots of our hosts for the day.

THEN we were off to the Fine Arts museum where we focused on the second floor where much of the work emphasized the war years. But there were also some wonderful pieces reflecting life and work in Vietnam. Lunch was in a small cafe, operated as a not-profit to help street kids learn skills and gain employment. The food was great, the atmosphere filled with optimism, and Margaret perfected her (fresh) spring roll-ing technique. I think she's got it!

WE taxied over to an old tube house where we could see first hand what was inside those long tubular homes, and how they managed to house all the necessities of living. And finally en route to "silk street", we climbed our way up, and down to the top of the Lake View Cafe, where we witnessed this man showing a typical Vietnamese cut-paper card. I'm sure they have a special name, but I don't know it. They are amazing!

Margaret and I finished off with some more shopping and dinner at the Gecko (great food!) and then headed to the airport. It was a great day--being with old friends and making new ones, an easy amble amid the (relative) quiet of the lakes and the hustle of the downtown, and good food to start and end it all. Thank you Ron and Glenda again for showing us a side of Hanoi we would not otherwise have seen.

South East Asia Adventure | The last leg

I'm writing from somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. I've had a great GF dinner of salad, steak, potatoes, veges, and fresh fruit (thank you Air Canada), a passable French Bordeaux, and PJ Perry's saxophone is hitting familiar notes on my iPod. It's an 10-hour flight to Vancouver, but with customs and immigration, followed by another flight, it will be late afternoon before I arrive in Edmonton.  To my own bed which given the hour (6:30 am in Edmonton; 10:30 pm Korea time) will be early. There are stories to tell and photos to sort; and hopefully a few more posts to come as I catch up. Home.

PS. Vancouver has a new self-check in process. Whew. That was fast. Brrrr... it's cold. To bed.

South East Asia Adventure | Homeward bound, Incheon

I'm sitting at the gate at Incheon, waiting for my next flight, and taking advantage of a power station with 110 volts and simultaneously charging up and winding down for the long flight home through Vancouver. They've been working on re-issuing my boarding passes for some time now—I got them yesterday in Hanoi—and I don't know what's up. I'll start getting nervous soon.

We left Hanoi after a relaxing day with Ron and Glenda, walking the expat 'hood and visiting some off-the-beaten-path sites, and have an 11-our layover here at Incheon.  This was our anticipated meeting place on the way to Ho Hi Minh so we researched the airport before hand (just got my boarding pass and passport back, thank you very much) and arranged a 6-hour day room at the Transit Hotel. En route to SE Asia, we stumbled on each other in the corridor between our gates, and were able to suss out more of the airport while awaiting our separate flights to Ho Chi Minh. I was looking forward to a good breakfast, some duty-free shopping, possibly a browse through the Korean arts and culture exhibits (this is a hands-on space where you make things), and a few hours of sleep. Incheon is ranked number 2 in the world for airports so we were optimistic about spending a day here without leaving the secure departures area of the airport.

We arrived on separate flights around 5 am this morning from Hanoi, and had agreed to meet at the Transit Hotel to see if we could check in early (not!).  It's on the fourth floor, and is part of the “relax and enjoy” theme of the airport. There are leather-look lounge chairs and flat couch-like surfaces where you can sleep stretched out, straight back and tub chairs with tables, curved chairs, battery-charging stations, free showers, a manicure and pedicure salon, a massage service, computer stations and free wi-fi, a book shop where used books can be borrowed in exchange for your boarding pass, a big screen TV, and  likely more that I missed. Where to start—she could be anywhere! Everywhere there are bodies, cuddled alone or together, under coats and blankets (for rent), ear buds hanging from iPods, luggage and back packs piled high. I nose my way around the loungers, searching for a familiar face. Not her...nope, that's not her either. I check out the coffee bar, the only thing open at 6 am,  but she's not there either. I tip-toe my way around the TV area, complete with home-theatre style chairs but nothing's playing and none of those bundles of anonymity look like her. Hmm...maybe she didn't find the hotel. Maybe she didn't get in on time. Maybe...she's waiting for me downstairs.

The info desk is very helpful. Her flight arrived before mine, but at the opposite end of the terminal. As I explain that we are to meet at the Transit Hotel, she tells me there are two: one at each end. OMG. What if we can't get from one to the other. Fears unfounded. I start to walk the long seemingly-endless line of closed duty-free, designer, and packaged goods shops. Travelers are scarce at this hour so if she's here I should be able to see her. Margaret, of course, has patiently (or otherwise) waited for me at the Transit Hotel at her end of the terminal, until someone told her about my end of the terminal. Found. She approaches me, coffee in hand, a little sour at the confusion, and the loss of quality sleep time.

Okay. Back to the hotel, where no, we cannot check in early unless we pay double, and yes, after a forlorn look from us, we can leave our carry-on there until our check-in time at 10 am. Breakfast next. We ask directions for food, and are sent to the same food court we visited on the way to Vietnam. No thanks. I ended up sick the first two days so we aren't going up there. There has to be a restaurant somewhere. After a walk worthy of a morning in Santa Cruz with Annie the hound, we give up on a western-style sit-down breakfast and settle for two mango shakes and a banana at Starbucks, who BTW, don't serve green tea here in Seoul (huh!).

Shopping is next. Margaret has needed washing fluid for her contact lenses for two days (she lost her glasses a couple of days ago in Siem Reap), some cough lozenges, and a clean shirt to wear home; I need a book. We have Fendi, Chanel, Mui Mui, LV, Coach, Burberry (Margaret tries on a 470 USD shirt), Nike, Swiss Army—all the usual shops—but where is Hudson News when you need it? Curiously, the English spoken here is barely understandable, despite best efforts. What are all those Canadian English teachers doing here if not teaching English (okay that sounds arrogant, but I obviously had high expectations for a big-city Korean airport). We give up, check into our hotel at 10 am, plug in all our electronics, shower, and crash until it's time to check out and get to our gates. We agree to square up financially later, congratulate ourselves on an “interesting” trip, say our final fairwells, hug, and go our separate ways.

I head for the Concourse, a short train ride away, but as I approach the escalator down to train level, preparing one more time to show my boarding pass, the strains of classical strings reach my ears.  Against a background of name-brand commercialism and hundreds of travelers pushing, lugging and dragging spinners and bags, I look up from my purse to see a young Korean woman playing at a grand piano. In all there are four young women: the pianist, and a violinist, a cellist, and percussionist on what I think is a dulcimer. Children sit on molded plastic seats, their attention fully on the musicians. All around, heads sway like sheaves of wheat in the wind. Toes tap.  iPhones, iPads and cameras go shlick-shlack. I take my place in the crowd, and relish this brief but profound moment when music binds strangers in a collective artistic experience. I'm in an airport. This shouldn't be happening but it is, and I am happy for it.

Interlude at Incheon Airport, Seoul

Down two escalators, a race to get to the train before the doors close, out and up, and I'm in the Concourse. The Concourse is like the infant child of the main terminal; everything's there but it's smaller and less developed. There's the Korean cultural experience, the food court, the shops (still no Hudson News) and the Starbucks. My gate is well within site, so I have time for something to eat. I am tentative about the “international” food court: Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, and hot dogs (North American?). On closer look I realize these are not your average summer festival hot dogs: Hot Dogs On boasts home made dogs, and a variety of freshly baked buns -- Fat Franks take note!). What's deterring me is that, like the food court in the main terminal, each menu item, somehow embalmed in plastic, like limbs in a Body World exhibition, is displayed in a glass case. I'm sure this is meant to help the unknowing to decide on a sumptuous offering and to tempt the appetite, but really, it's just gross. Really gross. But convinced that I need to eat, I approach the clerk who is to take my order and he points me to the short list. Good news: I know most of these items, and I opt for bibimbop. He hands me my slip, circles the number of my order, and points to the Korean counter where my order will come up. I sit, settle in to clear out some junk from my wallet, and wait for my number to come up on the digital read-out above the food counter. Unlike the food court in the other terminal this one is small, clean and relatively empty. I can handle this. 

Plasticized Food

Gourmet North American fare at Hot Dog On

What's a snow bom?

Lunch exceeded even my best expectations. Here was hot, steaming brown rice in a fired-up hot clay pot, meat clearly recognizable as beef, mushrooms, cucumbers, carrots all deliciously seasoned, and (again) more veges I don't recognize.. As I poured the hot broth over my bowl, the rice sizzled and the steaming aromas tickled my nostrils. Condiments—chile sauce, kimchi, soy and another that I didn't recognize (A-gain)—were  on the side; I could spice it up as much as I wanted. And because the pot was hot, the rice was too, right to the very last grain (which I ate).  I thanked the server who insisted on helping me with my tray (grey hair means OLD here in Asia!), the cooks, the clerk  and they all wished me a happy journey. Ahhh. They speak English over here in the Concourse!

 

South East Asia Adventure | Fellow travelers in Siem Reap

We are on enroute to Hanoi tonight, leaving behind Siem Reap and the countless temples, markets, tourist buses (mostly Koreans), foul air (they burn plastic bottles to get rid of them) and heaps of garbage. These are harsh words but at the moment it's hard to get past them. Some reflection is in order but I'll save that for later.

Yesterday on our way to the temples (no idea which ones), the firey flash of red shirts splashed white maple leafs caught my eye along the side of the road. Canadians! Bikes! Could it be my cycling friends!? Good fortune fell upon us, and about an hour later, after stopping to watch a family cook sugar palm into oh-so-good candy, we stopped to visit along the roadside with my friends from Edmonton, Gary and Tracey. We compared itineraries in the fall so it wasn't a complete surprise that our paths crossed in Siem Reap. So last night we sat on comfy couches among the dark wooden pillars and  pergola-style ceiling of the 2nd-floor lounge at their riverside hotel, enjoying wine, mojitos, and conversation.

How could we miss those red shirts!

 So far from home, it was good to exchange stories—surprises, disappointments, expectations met and not—and to be with friends. Despite my longing to travel, I know that when I do experience a bit of home away from home, I recognize my need to touch down, and feel familiar dirt under my feet. As we headed out in separate tuk-tuks to our different dinner arrangements, I was grateful for this brief interlude in the company of friends.

South East Asia Adventure | Siesta time in Siem Reap

It's post-lunch siesta time in Siep Reap and we are comfortably lounging in the atrium (for lack of a better word) in our hotel. The central foyer of the Angkor Home hotel is made to look like the inside of a temple: open to the 7th and top floor (temples all have 7 levels). As I look up I see dark wooden bric-a-bric partitions and balcony rails at each floor. From the ceiling at the top hangs a diamond shapped lantern of sorts, and from the 6th floor three colourful long strands hang in each of the four corners--one purple, one orange and one cream coloured. We think cotton. Here on the main level each corner is a setee of sorts surrounded by wooden rails and posts, with sheer curtains pulled back and tied. Each corner has its own little pond, a concrete shell-like water feature in each, and a wooden replica of a shallow boat that looks something like a sampan. Raised above the water level are two identical mats, each with its own cushion. The cushions feel like futons, but at one end the back folds up to create a triangle-shaped backrest. There at brightly coloured toss cusions to decorate each space, and like the curtains they are safron, brown, burgundy and gold. It's all quite pretty, but busy.  Behind me is a checkerboard on a box, which I assume holds the checkers or chess pieces, and a small basket filled with marble eggs and four water fowl of some sort--perhaps ducks--of various sizes. Margaret wonders aloud if they float!  People read, sleep, lounge, cuddle, share. Lionel Ritchie is playing on the piped-in music, and the sweet scent of incense fills the space.

It's a huge contrast to the 35 degree heat outside, the tour buses, took-tooks, motorcycles and bicycles that crowd the streets, all filled with tourists, many from Korea and China, where it is cold this time of year, invade the temples, tie up the traffic, and give Siem Reap the feel of a mega destination city. Along the roadside people picnic, take pictures, feed the monkeys and take elephant rides.This afternoon we are off to Angkhor Wat, the main site here, hopefully when it is cooler, and possibly a massage before dinner and a cultural dance show.

South East Asia Adventure | Another day on the Mekong River

Life on the Mekong here in Luang Prabang is very different from what we experienced on the delta. The long boat takes us upriver; we appreciate the cool breeze, and the fresh air. The photos won't show much until I can edit them, but...

Those little specs on the water? Local fishermen re-use plastic water bottles as a buoy and connect it to fish line and a trap to snare catfish. The third world knows a lot about re-use and recycling of used material!

And those dots along the shore? Local farmers have lush gardens,organized in neatly planted raised beds, where they grow an abundance of produce to sell in local markets: rice, corn, banana trees (the fruit, flower and leaves are important in food here), mint, coriander, long beans, peanuts, morning glory (a delicious green vegetable served sauteed in garlic and oil), spinach, bamboo, chile, and watercress between the rice crops; dried seaweed is collected from the banks. I think these are sustainable farms.

Concrete channel markers are important because this is a main transportation route. Long boats (we are on one) are sometimes equipped for overnight trips and I think Ded told us that tourists go all the way to Thailand from here. I need a geography lesson! I think that would be to just beyond Vientiane, since it forms the border from then on. The closest bridges are 500 km to the north, and 400km to the south. Luang Prabang sits at the junction of the Khan River and the Mekong.

The Mekong near Luang Prabang

The level of the water changes hugely over the season—I don't remember the number of metres but it must make the river feel like a lake. If you look closely you can see a high water mark where the crops stop and the banana trees begin. It's hard to imagine the river at that height, but the flooding enriches the soil and helps to make this area a rich agricultural corridor. As we make our way up and down the river I estimate that it is a half kilometre wide, but at flood time, it must be much more than that. We struggle to orient ourselves, direction-wise. As we head north up the river, we are both sure that we must be going south—but as we reflect on the map we know that the river runs from China in the north to the delta in south Vietnam. I guess that's what guides are for!

There are many villages along the river, and each has its specialties. The village of Ban Xanghai has locally grown cotton goods, as well as distilled rice wiski (no, we aren't spelling that incorrectly). We watched the process of distilling which confirmed for us that this is no ordinary fermented wine! There was the nasty tasting wine we've tried before, but also a sweet pink one that I enjoyed, and a rum-like wine sweetened with sugar cane. Also this is where we saw snakes, serpents, bear paw and other strange creatures in bottles of wine. In the photo they are in bottles for sale, but elsewhere they were in big jugs, with taps, ready to be dispensed out as medicine! Another village, Ban Xang Khong specializes in making rice paper and also in silk textiles. They raise their own silk worms, spin the silk, and dye it with natural materials such as bark, marigold (an important colour in the Buddhist tradition), leaves, flowers and other plants, and then weave it into simple stripes or complex patterns (and sometimes both) for scarves, table runners, or just long pieces of fabric that can be used to make cushions, traditional Lao skirts and other wearable and decorative textile arts. We watched six women working their looms to create these wonderful patterns. An entrepreneur has organized this business and hires the local women to make the fabric. We parted with every dollar and kip we had, and then some, having to borrow from our guide to avoid the inevitable 3% credit card charge!

Weaving the fabric for our scarves and skirts.

Rice wine for sale in Ban Xanghai

Medicine dispensers. Those are bear paws!

We also visited the Pak Ou Caves. Each one is home to one or more large Buddhas, surrounded by thousands (thousands!) more. Worshipers have been making the pilgrimage to the Than Timg and Than Teum caves since they were discovered over 500 years ago. The Luang Prabang Buddha is a standing Buddha, perhaps symbolic of the working people here in Luang Prabang. But there are also sitting Buddhas (meditating Buddhas, Buddhas calling the earth to worship,Buddhas calling for peace or reasonableness) but I don't think I saw a reclining Buddha. No rest here! The villagers nearby the caves still worship here rather than in their local temple once day a week to acknowledge the significance of the site. Although early visitors looted extensively, there are still gold, silver, bronze, and other precious materials here, in the thousands of Buddhas left by visitors, as well as marigold bouquets and scarves left by worshippers. The most valuable artifacts are in the museum or have been taken to (or is that by?) other countries for safe-keeping.



Buddhas in the Pak Ou caves

There is no sign here of the busy-ness that characterized the delta. The current is strong, and there is rough water in a few places but mostly it's a smooth ride on the long boat.  It's quiet. We can hear our driver singing as he takes us up and down the river, waving and calling to his friends on one bank or the other as he follows the channel from side to side. We all agree he likes his work.

South East Asia Adventure | Sapa pics

A chilly morning at school

Local people grow food and sell it at the market

Our Red Yao friends at Ta Phin

 A Black H'mong village on a misty morning 

South East Asia Adventure | Rice 12-ways

This is a short list of the ways we have eaten rice over the weeks, but definitely not complete!

1. steamed
2. fried
3. noodles, in soup for breakfast or lunch (sometimes pho and sometimes just noodle soup)
4. sticky, wrapped in a banana leaf
5. pancakes, with fried bananas and honey
6. fried spring rolls, with translucent rice paper, filled with meat and vegetables
7. fresh spring rolls, with translucent paper, rolled with noodles, meat or fish and greens
8. sweet porridge, sometimes with pistachios on top
9. Red Yao rice bread (not bread at all)
10. mixed with coconut cream, fried in a cast iron pan, served in a banana leaf
11. wine, distilled, sweet, tart and with sugar cane (wiski)
12. medicine, with snakes, scorpions, bears' paws and other things to provide health benefits

Okay, we didn't try the medicine, but it's tempting! You just bring a glass to the local dispensary and they tap it out of a big jug, or you can buy a small bottle to take away. No thanks.

South East Asia Adventure | In Luang Prabang

Got sick last night. Barfed up everything I ate and had diarrhea and fever. Carol not feeling good either so after touring 3 lovely Buddhist temples, going to a silk production village, and a wiski (don't you love the spelling) production village, climbing 300 deep steps to a buddhist cave, 3 hour traveling in an open boat up and down the Mekong (are you exhausted yet?) we then spent 14 hours in bed alternately shivering and burning up!

Are we having fun yet! Of course. All comes with territory.  --M

South East Asia Adventure | Warm weather awaits

Spent yesterday and today on Halong Bay, one of the new 7 Wonders of the World: ate shrimp, another kind of shrimp, followed by another kind of shrimp; wandered through caves will phallic-like stalectytes hanging from the ceiling; climbed 430 steps to the pagoda and 360 degree view; drank Australian wine; and learned to make spring rolls.  Met lots of interesting people: Jamie (American working for WHO in Geneva), her son Brendan (moving to Viet Nam for an internship); Gary, Fiona and son Ben (Sydney, Australia) and David and Avril ( alsoAustralia), Sasha from Moscow who is 14, speaks five languages, and wants to be a movie star, and her little sister Veronique, and their parents . All new friends. Off to Luang Prabang--where it is a balmy 24 degrees or so.

South East Asia Adventure | Night train to Sapa

We are about a half hour into our return trip from Sapa and settled into our private cabin aboard the overnighter to Hanoi. Although I'm down to my silk long johns and wrapped in a quilt, with the four layers I'm still wearing--a merino wool undershirt, turtleneck t-shirt, my fleece and Margaret's new microfiber jacket—I'm finally warm. Clearly we left the warm weather behind us in HCMC. But we charmed the porter into two extra quilts for our beds so life is good!

Sapa is sometimes referred to as the misty city and I can certainly understand why. They might also want to call it the city of electric bedsheets. Without them, I think we might never have been warm. The hot steaming bath in a Red Yao (local ethnic) herbal concoction followed by a Vietnamese massage certainly helped to rid me of the chills, but it was shortlived. Maybe not Margaret though: she bought a down filled North Face jacket this morning at a reasonable knock-off price.

Yesterday was cold and wet. It was mostly a trekking day which is good because moving kept us from totally freezing. Our first stop was at the hillside home of a woman from the Black H'mong ethnic group who showed off her weaving and stitching. The sewing machine in her house looked like the same old treadle my mom used to have and the wooden loom had the makings of a small blanket in progress. A vat of blue indigo dye simmered outdoors next to her handicrafts, all of which we are told she made herself. Margaret came away with a hat that could very likely bleed blue into her hair. Next we stopped at an elementary school, painted the bright saffron colour of all government buildings, and decorated with colourful pictures, one of many we saw over the two days. The children were willing subjects for our photos! The classrooms,with open doors of course, were heated with wood burning fires at the front, and the children were practicing their letters in workbooks.

From there we moved on to Lao Chai village where we were greeted by six or more aggressive Red Yao women selling goods. The guide had warned us that they would swarm the vehicle, and they did, pressing me against the van to avert my escape. They followed us for about two kilometres, finally asking Hai if we would stop now and buy something so they could go back, presumably to ensnare some new victims. After two small purchases we pressed on to lunch which had been arranged at a beautiful homestay. The fire, coal in a shallow metal pan, was red hot, and we pulled up stools and huddled around, drinking tea and learning about the homestay until our lunch was ready. It was like those cold hiking days in the Rockies when you pull your toque down over your ears, rub your hands over the fire, and stick your boots up against the heat to try to warm your feet. We chanced a taste of the home made plum-flavoured rice wine, and ate a hearty fresh-cooked lunch of typical local dishes: chicken with lemon grass served on an iron hot plate, sweet potato fries with chile sauce for dipping (to die for !), stir-fried carrots and a type of cucumber we have yet to identify, spring rolls (nothing like what we have at home!), rice, and watermelon for dessert. Our hostess was an attractive Viet woman from Sapa who had opened up this traditional-looking but very modern homestay with sleeping room for 10-12 in the loft.

We continued our trek to Ta Van village, and then on to the car that sat waiting and warm. We ended the day with a steaming hot bath and massage, and a light dinner. The hotel staff had turned on our heater and the electric blanket, ensuring that it would be warm on our arrival. We crawled into our heated bed for a cozy night's sleep. The room never really warmed up so we spent most of the night in bed. Despite thinking of myself as a hardy Canadian girl, accustomed to cold bathroom floors and showers in out-of-the-way places, I cuddled under the quilt and watched a silly movie.

Today we drove up to the highest pass in Vietnam, the Heaven's Gate pass, then climbed up to the Silver Waterfall—so named I'm sure for the heavy mist and fog that shrouded it. The climb was warming: it got the circulation back in my toes. There was a roadside rest stop by the waterfall, and we sat around a fire with a local Viet girl, eating a roasted sweet potato dipped in salt and curry and drinking (more) tea. The girl was prepared for many guests; there were roasted chestnuts, corn on the cob, bamboo tubes stuffed with coconut rice, hard boiled eggs, and skewered meat all cooked and ready on the little fire and when you requested something she moved it over the coals and heated it up. We love the sweet potatoes. These are the yellow ones; not the orange yams I buy most often at home.

After a twisty-curvy drive back to town for our luggage we cruised through the local market, spread out over several levels, that introduced us to foods we've never seen and can't name. There were at least 20 different greens, local tiny strawberries (ooh I wanted to try some of those), meat, live fish from local fish farms, huge bags of herbs and remedies (none for the common cold though), mushrooms both fresh and dried, dried apricots, ginger, and pears, and almonds. And of course there were clothes and shoes, including the ubiquitous North Face knock offs.

Our last lunch in Sapa was at a Red Yao restaurant, very traditional in style, where we sampled some local cocktails (sweet) and again feasted on a hot grilled chicken dish, curried pork, stir fried vegetables, spring rolls, and rice. We enjoyed this restaurant because, in addition to the hot charcoal brazier fired up beside our table, there were a lot of local crafts on display. I especially liked the covered pillows and seat mats embroidered in traditional patterns, and the wall hangings. This afternoon we again walked through a valley, first through the sprawling Black H'mong village of Madra, observing the black covered low roofs over wooden bungalow-style homes, as we tiptoed our way through the muck. We ended our village visits in the Red Yao village of Ta Phin where again the local women managed to separate us from a few dollars. As we walked back to the van, I chatted with one of the women. She might have been 40, with warm brown skin, her smile showing off perfect teeth. She spoke excellent English and seemed to understand everything I said. She said she learned English from the tourists, but I don't think so. We talked about the hard work of the village women: sewing and selling the crafts, cooking, looking after the children, and in the summer working in the fields. She says it is hard work, and I think it must be so.

The train lurches and rocks continuously, and occasionally comes to an abrupt stop, for no apparent reason. This is a downhill trip so I think they have to break a lot! The bed is hard; the pillow a bit lame, but I do have two quilts. Small luxuries. I'm looking for my shoes which were recently cleaned just prior to boarding the train by local shoe-shiners so that I can make the trek down the hall to the bathroom. Unfortunately they didn't offer to clean my pants, so they are hanging over my suitcase covered in muck which I'm hoping by tomorrow will have dried. I guess I'll have to put them on. Margaret has already turned in for the night but I doubt there will be much sleep for me. I have a good book and some good music on my iPod. We are due in to Hanoi at 430 am, and at 7 am we leave for Halong Bay. The hotel will give us breakfast, and there is a comfortable lounge area and bathroom with shower available for our use. Heaven awaits.