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.

South East Asia Adventure | Need a ride?

The finest cyclo in Hue.

South East Asia Adventure | Ca Phe at the DMZ

We made the obligatory stop at the DMZ bar and cafe this morning, just a short block or so from our hotel. Named for the area around the 17^th parallel which separated north from south Vietnam under French occupation and subsequently reunited in 1975, the bar is a local attraction. The focal point indoors is the pool table, although when we walked by at night none of the several hundred backpackers inside was playing. It's a full menu of western food including burgers, fries and pizza, and they serve lattes. It's not so easy to get a latte; the preference here is for sweetened condensed milk topped off with just a little Vietnamese coffee. So mid-morning, after picking our way through a couple of local markets in search of cheap rain covers, we parked ourselves at a noisy outside table on the busy Le Loi boulevard and took in the sights and sounds of a Monday morning in Hue.

The honking of cars and poisonous exhaust are, well, exhausting. We are probably the only ones here not covering our mouths to protect against the fumes. (Our guide, Hai, here in Hanoi, tells us that honking is a big part of driving culture in Vietnam: it's meaningless but you have to do it.) There are motorcycles, scooters, cyclos, bikes and pedestrians all sharing the road. Tiny women laden with daily wares for sale cobble along, their feet and ankles like shock absorbers against the weight of the pole. No one drives fast, and everyone seems to move quite peaceably along, through, and across this busy thoroughfare. Today the street scene is particularly colourful because it is raining and the brightly coloured and patterned rain capes keep riders and bikes dry. The hood is tucked under the helmet, and faces are covered with masks. A clear plastic window at the front of the cape allows the light on the bike to shine through. We watch the traffic, laughing at the sight of the faceless drivers, their capes billowing out the back, like sails on a ship.

Our first guide, Dong, taught us how to cross a busy street like this. As the three of us approached a busy five way intersection in downtown HCMC, Margaret and I both hesitated, but our guide just stepped off the curb, and kept walking, a barely-noticeable hand gesture indicating our intent to cross. Noticing the looks of horror on our faces, he assured us it was fine. “Just keep walking, slowly”, he said. Motorcycles and cars approached from every direction, swerving around in front and behind us, but never getting close, and never stopping. We just kept walking until we reached the other side, not missing a beat in our conversation. We've not had any difficulty getting across a street since. I think the key is that small hand gesture, walking slowly, and the fact that no one is actually driving very fast. I don't think I'll try this in Edmonton though!

Back to the DMZ bar, where they actually know how to make a latte. A little coffee, a lot of milk and some foam! We had lots of offers of cyclo rides, with covered seats to keep us dry, and I chatted for some time with a young man working there. At 25, he told me he didn't like living in his parents home, and he wanted to get a better job so he could move out on his own, and start his life. After studying at tourism school for two years, he thought he should have a better job, but he would need to keep studying English (there's not much in Hue for young people to do), and possibly move to the city where there are more opportunities. He is typical of the young men and women I have talked to here. They have studied hard, have big hopes for a better life here in Vietnam, but are very uncertain about whether that will ever actually materialize.

South East Asia Adventure | Morning at the Boutique Hotel

After the color, chaos, cacophony of car horns, hordes of people, neon, commercialism of HCMC and Van Tho the Boutique Hotel was an oasis if serenity.

Seven or eight one and two story white plantation style buildings surrounding a vast swimming pool - the kind where the water comes right to the rim and looks like a huge plate if glass.
After quick packing and showers (using the little pots of shower gel and shampoo you take out with a spoon) we headed straight for the endless soft deep sand beach about 100 yards away in front of the hotel. Great stretch for the hips and calves. A fisherman in his round basket boat made his way out through the high surf. Tough going. I'm sure he had to bail a few times on the way but he made it past the surf and disappeared in the waves. We returned to breakfast. Half the dining area sits in front of the main building in the midst of a massive lawn where viet women in their conical hats were sweeping up leaves. Blue straw lanterns in many shapes hung from the trees that look familiar – maybe Hawaii – with small white odourless flowers. Tables and chairs are in a modern style in dark wicker with off white cushions and umbrellas set off with grey and bronze woven place mats.

The breakfast buffet has been a typical feature of all the Vietnamese hotels but some have outdone themselves in scale and variety. The best part - Fruit bar includes: Watermelon, Pineapple, Dragon fruit, Papaya, Passion fruit, Banana, 4 dry cereals, 2 fruit salads, Grapefruit, Several different juices.
Then there is the Omelette bar made to order of course - Ham, Bacon, Tomatoes, Green onions, Waffles and pancakes. The Bread bar - many breads, a baked cinnamon toast, Croissants and French rolls

There is always the Vietnamese bar though this was not the best but today it included, Crispy rice balls, Chicken or shrimp congee, Noodles and vegetables, fried and steamed rice, Pork dumplings, Fried mushrooms. If you are hungry for standard american its there too, then a pile of salads – papayas, some greens we don't know, tomato and potato.

I can pretty much fill up for the entire day here, though we have yet to find a real latte that uses fresh milk so I usually leave with a hankering for my very own home made coffee.

All in all a great spot for our “rest” between big cities. ---M.

South East Asia Adventure | On the river and at the market

Live fish squirm in tubs.

The delta is rich in food resources; enough to feed most of the country.

Motorcycles make their way through the fish market.

First she halves the fruit, then carves a notched pattern into the flesh making it easy to bite into. You just hold on to the stem top, and eat away, until there is nothing left but the core and the sweet juicy taste of pineapple in your mouth.

South East Asia Adventure | Life on the Mekong

I am writing this from the HCMC airport while waiting on (another) delayed flight but there is certainly no de-icing required here. It has been hot, as expected, in HCMC and in the Mekong Delta. Today we visited the floating market along the Mekong. As we boarded the wooden dragon boat in Can Tho I did not know what to expect, but life along the river is busy, vital, life-sustaining for the people here. Both sides of this tributary of the Mekong (there are nine altogether) are lined with businesses that both support and depend on river life. There are gas bars for fuel, repair shops, and all manner of commercial activity both on the river and along each bank. It is dense; there is barely an inch of riverfront that is not taken up. The shanty-like homes reflect the every day activities of life. People cook meals, wash up, work. Clothes dry in the heat of the sun.

During our short ride up river we see boats going both ways; some are filled with tourists like us, others with watermelons, pineapples,and other fruits harvested nearby and sold at the market. Our boat appears to do double duty. The blue vinyl seats, though they look much like any seats in a boat, are not fastened down. I imagine our driver removing them after our tour and heading back up river for a load of goods. As we approach the floating market its efficiency becomes clear. Farmers bring their goods to the sellers, who take them on their boats, and wait for the buyers to come up the river. The wooden boats are close together, and each is filled with one or two fruits and vegetables, in abundance. Men, women, girls and boys, steer the boats around and around, making deals with buyers. When a buyer and a seller are in business, they tie their boats together. We circle and wait for our turn to try the ripe, juicy, tiny pineapple, and watch in awe as the woman carves it up in into a long wedge so that we can hold on to the green top and eat it from its core. Nothing is left but the core and handle when we are done. The dragon fruit is quartered and the red outer peel pulled back to allow us to eat it while holding on to the red flesh. Together the pineapple and the dragon fruit make a juicy mess!

We head back down river toward Can Tho and stop at the dock for the fish market. The morning's catch are squirming in metal tubs, their heads being chopped while still alive. Frogs are tied together by the legs, eels squirm, tiny sparrow-like birds are skinned and hang from racks. There are chickens, beef and pork sitting open in the air, and every manner of vegetables and fruits most of which we could not name and our guide could not translate. Motorcycles wiggle their way through the narrow lanes among the many tourists and the local buyers and sellers, honking to clear the way. Women are busy at work everywhere, sitting on their haunches, legs and ankles bent into impossible angles, carving, cutting, slicing, gutting, cleaning, selling. It is hard work, we think. But our guide tells us that life here is easy. The delta is rich, abundant with food, both on the river and on the land.