Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Winging It

Note: I have updated the album titled "Australia: Melbourne and Around" with the pictures from the past few days, including the Great Ocean Road trip and a day at Phillip Island. Enjoy!

Summary:
  • Friday, 24 Dec: Made breakfast; met up with Martin to search for rental car companies; eventually booked through Thrifty online; went our separate ways for lunch and to rest; took a nap; met up again with Martin to buy food at Queen Victoria Market and then head to Port Melbourne Beach to relax and then meet people for a Couchsurfing BBQ; spent several hours at the beach, watched sunset; headed back to the dorms around 10pm.
  • Saturday, 25 Dec: Got up early, showered, packed and checked out of the hostel; picked up rental car and slowly drove through the city to Martin's hostel to pick him up; we realized we had no idea how to get to the Great Ocean Road so stopped at a Holiday Inn, where they printed us a packet for the whole trip; spent the entire day driving along the Great Ocean Road, ending in Warrnambool.
  • Sunday, 26 Dec: Went to Tower Hill park west of Warrnambool and climbed around a bit; hit several outlooks along the Great Ocean Road on the way back towards Melbourne, as well as national parks; got in to Melbourne where Martin's couchsurfing host agreed to host me as well.
  • Monday, 27 Dec: Picked up a girl Martin had met at his hostel; drove to Philip Island, about two hours away; explored the island for the day; attempted to find a Melbourne city-view from Martin's guidebook, but arrived 30 minutes too late to get in; back to Melbourne and Rachel, our couchsurfing host. 
  • Tuesday, 28 Dec: Up early to return car to rental company; walked around Melbourne Central Business District (CBD); watched street performers at Federation Square, visited information center, used internet cafe; headed back to host's house, eating Middle Eastern for a late lunch; played on computer, did my laundry and chatted with host and other surfers.

On Thursday, December 23rd, I met Martin. Martin is a student in Germany who recently finished university and is taking some time to travel before starting up his studies again. On Friday, we searched around for car rental companies, having no luck until we tried online. Even then we paid quite a lot for our car, but decided that we really wanted to do the Great Ocean Road trip, so we went ahead with it. And on Saturday, we were off! It was the beginning of a trip with a stranger, with no plans for accommodation or meals or road maps past the basic tourist maps.

The coastline was beautiful and the weather, while ever-changing, was nice enough to allow short walks on beaches and trails. We jumped in and out of the car fairly often, wowing over the views. We got along pretty well and even the highway driving was fun, if adventurous at times, since driving on the left is a bit strange to me. We did some basic grocery shopping so that we could minimize what we spent on meals. In the evening, we decided to drive another hour past the 12 Apostles, which was the last thing we saw for the day, to Warrnambool. Martin was able to get online on his laptop and found that there was a backpacker (hostel) in that town.


We found one, although not the one he'd found online, and they had dorm beds for $24AUD apiece. It was actually a really nice hostel, with a kitchen and dishes, pool table, free tea and coffee, games, maps, brochures and big tv's. The walls were fairly thin, but otherwise it was a great place.


The next day, we headed to a place I'd found in one of the hostel brochures, Tower Hill. It was a pretty mixture of wetlands and forest, just behind a crest of hills from the ocean. Then we headed back along the Great Ocean Road, taking the whole day to hit different viewpoints that we hadn't seen the day before. The weather wasn't quite as nice, but there were moments of blue sky that were stunning. We got back into Melbourne fairly late, arriving just before midnight at Martin's couchsurfing host's house.

There, we met Rachel, our host, and her other surfer, Nick from Belgium. And soon after that, I was asleep!

The whole trip was one of "winging it." It was a completely comfortable experience, but everything worked out just fine in the end. Rachel has agreed to host me for a couple nights (along with Martin and Nick) and so my last few days in Melbourne will be easy and cheap! Plus, Rachel is an extremely friendly, talkative and lively hostess. It's just too bad that she works nights at her job, because we don't get to hang out as much as I'd like.


Being a bit more "foot loose" was one of my goals for my travels. I tend to over plan, so I've been working on doing minimal planning and seeing what comes up. Usually, things turn out pretty good, or even great!
But it's a hard habit to cultivate, since there's always the sense that by doing this, I'll miss seeing something that I shouldn't miss.


I'm really enjoying Australia. Although the weather is cold so far, it's still beautiful outside. The people are friendly and engaging. And the city of Melbourne is engaging and full of personality that you can feel and see.  


--Z

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Mid-Trip Assessment

Note: I have uploaded two posts today, this one and “I’m Getting Too Old for This.” Don’t forget to scroll down and read both of them!

For those who wonder about how I’m handling a trip like this, I figured a general assessment of how I’m doing in various respects would help to put things into perspective. It’s really NOT impossible and sometimes it seems even more doable in many ways than a 9-5 workday, regular lifestyle!

Physically

Physically I’m doing well. I’ve been fairly sick just once, although I’ve suffered some reactions to foods along the way. The one time I was sick, it was pretty severe for about twelve hours, but full recovery took almost a week and a half, possibly longer. I’ve been fairly consistently plagued by bug bites of varying natures, but nothing serious or infected. Occasionally I get a headache or feel out of it, but am generally recovered by the next day. Twice I’ve felt cold/flu symptoms coming on, but have been able to avoid full-fledged sickness. I twisted my ankle once fairly hard in Thailand, but it was find the next day. I’ve suffered only one mild sunburn.

Mentally/Emotionally

Mentally I’m also doing well, at least, in my opinion! There are days I feel lonely or homesick, but in general that doesn’t last too long. Oddly enough, I find this hits the most when I’m amongst a large volume of other travelers, due in part because many people travel with friends or partners and therefore don’t always reach out to the singles. One hurdle I passed recently was the “I’m not on vacation” realization. For about two months, I enjoyed my travels as I would any vacation. Then, I started to feel antsy, as if I should be getting back to work. The only thing is… I don’t have a job to get back to! It was a strange feeling, almost like I was doing something wrong. It takes regular reminding that it’s all right to be traveling, and to be doing nothing on some days, even! I have not felt depressed or driven to go home immediately. And thus far, I haven’t begun to worry about my future.

Financially

I’m doing all right on my budget. As most of you know, I budgeted fairly high for this trip. I had the great intention of tracking everything I spent and reporting on daily food, lodging and transportation costs. Unfortunately, my dedication flagged after just two weeks of trying this, so now I track my expenditures the easy way: every time I withdraw money from the ATM, I put it into my spreadsheet. This eliminates the hassle of converting the currencies daily as well as remembering every Baht, Reil or Dong that I spend. My mindset is generally that I be frugal but not extra-frugal; that I do the things I really want to do, weighing them against other opportunities that I’ll have in the region; and that the money I put aside for travel is for my trip and if I run out early, then so be it. But, I really hope I don’t run out early!

For those that are curious, here is a general summary of my costs so far.Each country’s costs is an average of the number of days in the country and the total amount spent in that country, to include the transportation for getting there (flight, train, boat, etc), food, accommodations, fun extras, gifts, mail (packages and postcards), toiletries and unexpected costs, like new cameras. Oh, and ATM fees, which have ranged from $0 to $10 per transaction.

  • South Korea: 15 days: $71 average per day; overall, well under budget.
    • It’s odd that I spent so much, since I didn’t pay for accommodation for most of the trip. Unexpected costs included a new camera when my old one broke. Big extras were a flight to Jeju Island.
  • Hong Kong: 6 days: $89 average per day; overall, slightly under budget.
    • Again, no lodging costs, but Hong Kong is expensive. Big extras included a trip to Macau and a night-time cruise in Victoria Harbor.
  • Thailand: 16 days: $92 average per day; overall, slightly under budget.
    • Some lodging costs; traveled with short-term travel friends for half the time; bought lots of souvenirs and some tailor-made clothes; two day trips with a guide.
  • Vietnam: 20 days: $58 average per day; overall, well under budget.
    • Paid for all but three nights lodging; shared several nights lodging with another traveler; big extras were a trip to Halong Bay, a new camera when I lost my other new one, and a motorbike trip in the countryside for three days; ate primarily street food.
  • Cambodia: 19 days: $30 average per day; overall, WAY under budget.
    • Paid for all lodging; shared several nights of lodging; ate street food and restaurant food; big extras included three-day pass to Angkor, boat trip to Battambang and a boat day-trip in Sihanoukeville.
  • Thailand: 2 days: $72 average per day; overall, slightly under budget.

So, as you can see, I’m under budget! So far I think that I’ll be able to keep slightly under budget in Australia and New Zealand, but I’ll really have to be careful on the big extras. There are just so many to choose from: sailboat trips, sky diving, guided day trips, etc. It helps that I’ll be staying with friends for about two weeks in NZ, but after that, we’ll have to see.

Packing

Thus far, I haven’t found anything that I missed packing. There are a few things I haven’t used yet, but nothing that I will send home. I may have to buy some warmer everyday clothes for Australia and New Zealand, because it’s cooler than I expected. My hiking boots are a bit heavy to lug around, but I’m glad that I have them. My electronics have all worked out quite well, although the used cell phone I bought doesn’t hold a charge worth a damn. My hats are the one thing I haven’t used as much as expected. My packs are holding up fine. While fairly unused, my medical kit keeps me feeling safe and comfortable.

Summary

All in all, so far so good! I’ll try to remember to do these mid-trip assessments every three months or so, to see what may have changed!

--Z

I’m Getting Too Old for This

Photos: Australia: Melbourne and Around

Note: I’ve added a link to Martin’s blog to the right. Take a look, he’s got a fabulous camera and is a pretty good photographer! To find out who Martin is, read this blog post. :)

  • Monday, 20 Dec: Wandered around Khao San Road area, visiting bookshops and trying to barter a good deal to sell or trade my old books (SE Asia guidebook, Millenium book #2, and a language book for SE Asian countries) so that I could get a good price on Millenium #3 and a guidebook for Oz and/or NZ. I ended up paying about $10 for Millenium and $8 for a 2010 NZ guidebook. Woo! Otherwise, puttered around, played on computers and peoplewatched; at dinner, an older woman named Ingrid asked me to sit with her, then help her on the computer, then walk her back to her hotel; she was a trip! Resisted urge to cut my hair super short and dye the stubble bright blue. Also attempted to sink wash clothes to get the stench out.
  • Tuesday, 21 Dec: Slept in; street food breakfast; read book; did last computer chores; bought an airport minivan ticket; at a huge late lunch; left for airport at 5pm, arrived at 7:00pm due to traffic; bought some treats and water, the latter which was not allowed on the plane due to Australian restrictions; boarded flight, finished my book after two hours, went to sleep. Annoyed that JetStar charges $3 for a cup of tea, $8 for a blanket and $12 for meals, and keep the cabin ice cold.
  • Wednesday, 22 Dec: Arrived Melbourne feeling groggy and dehydrated; spent an hour and a half at the airport clearing customs (had to declare my food, which consisted of a bag of dried mango chips and some herbs) and then hanging out at the information desk to figure out a place to lodge; finally decided on Melbourne International Backpackers (MIB) and bought SkyBus ticket to city; made transfer to a free bus to my hostel; arrived, checked into a 6-bed dorm, ate at a Malaysian place for lunch and then took a three hour nap; went to Queen Victoria Night Market with some dorm-mates and had Middle-Eastern for dinner; fell asleep at 11pm.
  • Thursday, 23 Dec: Slept very well! Availed myself of free breakfast – cereal for the first time in almost three months! Then set out to explore local Melbourne area: free City CIrcle Tram, saw Dockside and some cool city streets; meandered around for most of the day; met a Couchsurfer interested in renting a car to explore the Great Ocean Road; bought food to cook for dinner/lunch; ate at hostel; developed a major headache and went to bed.

 

No, I’m not too old for traveling. I’m too old for dorms. I’m too old for the girls hooking up with guys in the top bunks, pretending to be asleep when you walk in unexpectedly. Too old for the girls whose best friends are insanely jealous and shoot adoring looks at the guy with whom their friend is hooking up. Too old for clambering into the top bunk and waiting for the lower-bunk girl to stop squirming around.

I never thought I’d feel too old for this!

IMG_1854It’s not all bad. I don’t mind the laundry that is currently hanging on jury-rigged clothesline across the room. And the guy causing all the trouble is actually a fairly nice-seeming guy from London. It’s just the drama that seems a bit much, is all. Girls who haven’t outgrown high school and college level emotional turmoil and tendencies get a bit annoying, but hey – they are just out of “uni” as they call it, so I suppose I should give them leeway.

Melbourne is a hoppin’ place! It’s so modern and clean and lively! It must be said that I’m suffering severe stickershock, and it’s well justified. Not only is it difficult coming from Asia to Australia in the first place; Australia is also just really friggin’ expensive! A big bottle of water cost me $3.20 today (and AUD=USD at the moment). In Cambodia it would be $0.50. Oy. Internet at my hostel? $3 an hour. In Bangkok, it was about $1 an hour. And my half a bunk bed here costs $26 per night. An ensuite double, by myself, cost at most $10 per night in Asia. Ouch!

IMG_1859The weather is quite cool but also very sunny. From what I understand, I seem to have brought the good weather with me; it was apparently rain and even cooler temps before. The streets are paved evenly and the sidewalks are good for walking upon. It’s quite the contrast from Cambodia’s dirt roads and decimated sidewalks when they even existed. Oh, and the showers! Sure, I’m using shared bathrooms, but the showers are hot and have great pressure! I’ll admit I was not eco-friendly this morning as I reveled for twenty minutes in the fabulous heat.

IMG_1858 There are many beautiful parks in Melbourne, which I fully intend on taking advantage of by reading, napping or wandering through them. There are a few free things to do, although the things that cost seem to cost a lot (like $20 for entry to the aquarium). I found a couple of streets that were filled with beautiful graffiti, which was fun to peruse like an art gallery. I found two places so far with free wi-fi: the state library and Foundation Square. I love the feeling of a clean, smoothly running city.

My plans for my time in Melbourne include attending a Christmas Eve BBQ on the beach with the local couchsurfers here; a three-day trip with a German couchsurfer named Martin, up the Great Ocean Road and back, to include Phillip’s Island; and that’s about it so far. Tomorrow I will explore the area some more, particularly to buy some gifts and souvenirs and maybe some warm clothes, if I can find anything affordable.

Oh! And I love how friendly Australians are, and that they call me “love” or “darling” as a matter of course and not in a weird way.

Sticker shock? Yes. Culture shock? Of course. Still happily traveling? Absolutely!

--Z

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Connecting with Cambodia

Photos: Cambodia: Battambang

  • Thursday, Dec 16: Relaxed and chatted with Aroma boys in the morning; took cooking class at Tigre de Papier and made fish amok and mango salad; spent the rest of the day chatting and hanging out with the Aroma boys; dinner with Sebastian (lok lak again); bought beers for the guys at the guest house; said good-byes.
  • Friday, Dec 17: Took morning “bus” (really a small pickup with twenty passengers stuffed into it) to Tonle Sap pier; took slow boat to Battambang, took about eight hours; checked in to Paris Hotel with Gretta; dinner at White Rose; to bed early!
  • Saturday, Dec 18: Up for breakfast at 8am; took a tuk-tuk to the bamboo train and discovered the corruption of new tourist attractions; explored Phom Sampeou with a fourteen-year-old as our guide; relaxed back at the room; out for a late lunch/early dinner; massage by Seeing Hands; out for a drink; to bed at midnight.
  • Sunday, Dec 19: Up early to catch bus; said good-bye to Gretta; caught minivan to bus station; bus to Poipet; mini-van to border, where we were dropped off in the middle of a roundabout; walked through border control, first Cambodian side and then, longer wait at the Thai side; somewhere inbetween my bus ticket was taken and exchanged for a piece of blue tape; on Thai side, a minivan picked us up and we drove for three hours to Bangkok; dropped off in Khao San area; checked into same guest house as before.

 

The last week and a half has been an amazing run of meeting fascinating people. In Sihanoukeville, a hippy Turkish couple started making me realize that I wasn’t allowing myself to connect with the local people. The care they took in learning about their hosts at the guest house, knowing their names and situations and personalities, was a real wakeup call for me. I like to think of myself as friendly and out-going and open-minded, but as I’ve been traveling I’ve picked up an “us vs them” mentality. That is to say, a “tourist versus local” kind of view. This was really cemented in Vietnam.

Kampot showed me that the Cambodians are kind and caring, when they offered quiet support and care during my sick days, but I still didn’t learn the names of the guys who brought me fruit and asked how I was feeling. In Kep and Rabbit Island, I kept mostly to myself. In Sihanoukeville, I learned about the young girls working at the guest house and it’s restaurant, thanks to the Turkish couple. I learned to relax and joke with the Cambodian employees at the guest house, instead of just viewing them as servers. And when I made it to Siem Reap, I met someone who completed the lesson for me: Vivi from Germany.

IMG_1370When I arrived at the Aroma Daily guest house in Seam Reap, I was tired. It had been a twelve-hour bus day, complete with an army of tuk-tuk drivers clamoring for my attention and business the minute I stepped off the bus. At the time I was frustrated, but my tuk-tuk driver ended up taking me to a guest house that had me hooked from the moment I arrived. Two women about my age, whom I couldn’t see because they were sitting out in the dark courtyard, called out, “Hello!” when we pulled up. I checked in to a room and immediately came downstairs, asking if I could join the girls. They were Vivi from Germany and Gretta from Australia. I didn’t realize at first that there were several Cambodian men sitting with them, and when I did, I felt awkward.

IMG_1574 SameThat lasted all of thirty seconds. Vivi introduced me to everyone, and everyone seemed quite glad to meet me and make room for me to sit and join them. The next five days  were such fun! Not only were the temples amazing and breathtaking, but my experiences just sitting and chatting with Trea, Sam, Same, Taom, Sopheak, Srei and Savannah, not to mention Vivi and Gretta, was a real treat. I learned – somewhat - to interpret their humor, to repeat a few words and learn a bit of the language, and to get to know these people. To tell the truth, Vivi’s openness, friendliness and absolute adoration for all things Cambodian – including her boyfriend/fiance – was completely  infectious and made me feel at ease right away. She is one of those characters that make an everlasting impression on you in a multitude of ways.


IMG_1745

I was in Siem Reap for six days and after my first day, I most looked forward to meeting and chatting with the Aroma boys. Trea was quiet and barely said anything, but when he laughed, his whole face lit up. Sam was friendly and eager. Same was a wanna-be player/gangster, but in a joking way; he teaches the others Khmer boxing and makes quite a show if he thinks he’s been slighted. Taom seemed younger than the others and was pretty  excitable, but was the first to 


IMG_1749 Taom

jump up when I came downstairs. Sopheak, brother to the woman who ran the guest house, was serious until I managed to draw him out a bit. He didn’t smoke or drink like the others, so he was a bit apart, but one-on-one he was wonderful to talk to. His English was the best out of everyone. Srei was playful and head over heels in love with  Vivi, who felt the same about him. And Savannah was also a surprise, since I had felt uncomfortable around him at first and later, he would flash a huge grin at me and wave when IMG_1750 SavannaI went by. Unfortunately, VIvi and Srei left after my second day; they were going to Srei’s parent’s house, to introduce Vivi and announce their plans for marriage. They got back after I had left for Battambang. 

I hope that I’m able to hold onto the lesson I feel like I was learning in Cambodia: to view and treat and talk to all these locals as real people, not just salespeople 


IMG_1772 Sam

catering to tourists. It will be hard and in some cases impossible – the big cities are toughest – but my six days in Siem Reap really taught me the reality of travel: meeting not just other travelers, but the locals who are proud of their country and want to share everything  with those willing to listen. 

When I answered the Aroma boy’s question of whether I would come back to Cambodia, they frowned. “Don’t say maybe,” they insisted. “That means you don’t care.”

IMG_1774 Sophak I can say yes with no hesitation. Cambodia is the first place I’ve been where I felt absolutely drawn to return, whether for another visit or to work I’m not sure. It’s such a mix of rough living conditions and devastating poverty that it surprises me that I want to go back. While I was sick I was terrified that I would need, and not have access to, medical help. I don’t think it would be easy to work or volunteer in Cambodia, in terms of living there.

But I can say absolutely: Yes, I will come back to Cambodia.

--Z

Friday, December 17, 2010

Tackling a World Wonder: Angkor and Around



Photos: Cambodia: Siem Reap, Angkor and Around

  • Wednesday, Dec 8: Hiked around Rabbit Island on my own; sunned; swam; read books; relaxed.
  • Thursday, Dec 9: Took morning boat back to Kep; hung out in cafe with Austrian/Norwegian couple; took bus to Sihanoukeville; checked in to Apple Guest House; met hippy Turkish couple; went to the beach, braved beggars and salesgirls, swam in the ocean; ate dinner at place recommended by Austrian/Norwegian couple and enjoyed amok; chatted with Turkish couple.
  • Friday, Dec 10: Went on boat cruise run by a German guy; snorkeled at a coral reef; wallowed in gorgeous waters at a nature preserve area; visited island of the rich; had a nice evening and dinner with the Turkish couple at Apple Guest House.
  • Saturday, Dec 11: Took bus to Siem Reap, took from 7:30am to 7:00pm! Insistent but nice tuk-tuk driver took me to three guest houses (not including the one I requested), the first two were full, last one had available double; checked in to Aroma Daily guest house and met Vivvy (German) and Gretta (Australian), two friendly girls staying there; learned about Vivvy’s life, which involves moving to Cambodia permanently and marrying her Cambodian boy Srei; dinner with Sebastian and Sam, had fermented fish dip.
  • Sunday, Dec 12: Explored Siem Reap city center area near Pub Street; joined Vivvy and Gretta for a late breakfast; visited Artisans d’Angkor; wandered around town a bit more; met more of the Aroma boys who work the tuk-tuks and guest house; felt instantly part of the group there; went to see sunset at Phnom Bakheng; met Nikki and Mariana from Couchsurfing for dinner and chatting; met Vivvy, Gretta, Sebastian (French) and Srei at Angkor What Club for drinks and dancing.
  • Monday, Dec 13: Met Mariana and hired tuk-tuk to explore temples: Angkor Wat, Baksei Chamkrong, Bayon, Baphuon, Phimeanakas, Royal Palace, Terrace of the Elephants and Ta Prohm for sunset; Tuesday, Dec 14: Bicycled with Gretta; breakfast in Siem Reap, yummy toast with tomato and avocado with a vinaigrette; biked to Rolous group of temples and visited Preah Ko and Bakong; spent the rest of the day recovering; dinner with Sebastian and Sam, had lok lak.
  • Wednesday, Dec 15: Sunrise at Angkor Wat with Gretta and Mariana; breakfast there; visited Neak Pean and Ta Som with them; hired female moto-driver to take me to Banteay Srei and Kbal Spean, quite far north; loved wading in the waters at Kbal Spean; out to dinner with Gretta and Mariana at Happy Special Pizza, but didn’t experience the “happy.” Hung out with the Aroma boys at the guest house.

     

    I didn’t know much about Angkor Wat, except that it was famous and, as friends and family had recalled, monumental and imposing. When I arrived in Siem Reap, I knew that I had to buy a one, three or seven day pass, and that as a bonus, I could catch a sundown on the day before my pass became “active” if I bought the pass after 5pm. I had also heard that biking around the temples was a fantastic way of seeing the temples. I was vaguely aware that there were more temples than “just” Angkor Wat, but until I traded for a book about the temples, on Rabbit Island, I had no idea how many.

    My book alone covered fifty-two ruins of various sizes, of which Ankgor was just one. On my first full day in Siem Reap, I hired a tuk-tuk to take me out to the park entrance, where the passes were sold, at 5pm. I paid my $40 USD for a three day pass and he then took me to Phnom Bakheng for sunset. He dropped me off and parked amongst the dozens of other tuk-tuks and moto-bikes. It was a fifteen minute walk up a hill on a well-trodden IMG_1317path, with glimpses of the setting sun through the thick growth of trees. At one point, I passed a group of land mine victims playing musical instruments. It was a surreal introduction to the temples and to some of the sadder truths of Cambodia.

    When I got to the temple itself at the top of the hill, I sighed. There were people all over the stones, detracting greatly from the majesty and grandeur of my first temple viewing. They were like ants, milling around and climbing and descending, jockeying for the best views of the setting sun. I took a deep breath and clambered up the steep, small stairs, at times supporting myself with my hands on the next highest step. For the next hour, I walked around the temple ruins, admiring the IMG_1333 crumbling lions and incredibly vast views offered from the top of the surrounding landscape. The setting sun was beautiful, of course, but for me the magic lay in the ruins themselves. I stayed until it was dark and had a close call when I slipped going down the steps, stopping myself with my face against someone’s leg.

    The next day, I tackled several temples with a Couchsurfer I’d met named Mariana, from Brazil. We hired a tuk-tuk and first explored Angkor Wat, late in the morning, and that took us almost two hours. It’s a huge, sprawling city of a ruin, with so many separate structures that it’s hard to describe. There were ridiculously long walls, which were IMG_1406 completely covered with intricate carvings depicting historical accounts and religious stories. It blew my mind that these were almost a thousand years old in some cases, these carvings that were so detailed and fantastic that artists today still copy them.

    We spent the day going from temple to temple, getting used the the architectural set-up and religious overtones of the ancient buildings. We ended at Ta Prohm, which is where Tomb Raider, with Lara Croft, was filmed. It’s actually nicknamed the Tomb Raider temple, sad to say. We spent sunset there, properly amazed at the takeover of nature: the trees and  their roots were slowly 

    IMG_1568

    The next day, I bicycled out to a group of temples called the Rolous Group. I went with

    On my third and last day, I went with both Mariana and Gretta to catch sunrise at Angkor Wat. It was raining when we got there around 5:30am. With a crowd of other people which  was certainly smaller than 

  • ripping apart various sections of the temple. In some cases, the roots alone were far taller than me. The evening light filtered through the trees and offered a truly eerie sense of the place. The forest critters became noisy, adding a natural music which really made the huge trees seem even more alive. All in all, while I was impressed by the temples and enjoyed pondering the age, I can’t say I was terribly overcome with awe. My favorite of the day was Ta Prohm.

  • Gretta, an Australian girl I’d met at my guest house. The ride itself was not pretty until we got out of Siem Reap. One way was a distance of about twelve kilometers and it was a hot, hot day. The temples themselves were small and pretty. We didn’t take very long to explore them, maybe two hours, before heading back to the guest house. Bicycling was a great way to go, although because we went to a far-flung group, I don’t think I got the full effect of cycling the ruins. In retrospect, I should have bicycled to the main complex and taken a tuk-tuk to the further places. IMG_1612

  • usual due to the rain, we waited for the sun to light up the clouds. The pictures I captured were far more brilliant than the experience itself, although the rain did let up and eventually stop. My favorite moment was that point where I blinked and suddenly it was light out. The towers of Angkor Wat were not stunning but they were imposing and majestic. It is hard to imagine that a thousand years ago, monks and royalty and a city of people witnessed the sight every day.

  • We then rode in our tuk-tuk to two other temples, one of which – Ta Som - I really, really liked. It had four square pools around a central pool and was accessible only via a wooden bridge of wood planks through a sort of marshland. It was serene and you could easily picture the contemplation and prayer that went on there centuries ago. Also, we spotted a beautiful king fisher perched in center pool’s small temple, his brilliant blue and gold body flashing in the 

    IMG_1661
  • sun. Apart from an annoyingly loud Japanese tourist who insisted on shouting everything to his friends, it was a great visit.

  • At this point, Gretta and Mariana were finished and I decided to head north via motobike to visit another far-flung grouping of ruins. The novelty of this trip was two-fold: first, I hired a woman motobike driver, the first I’d ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, women ride motorbikes everywhere; it’s just that they don’t generally take tourists. The second part of the novelty was that I was on my own, finishing my temple-touring as I’d started it with that first sunset: with just my own sense of time and wandering and thoughts.

  • First I hit Banteay Srei, which was crawling with a few bus-loads of tourists but contained IMG_1718some incredible carvings and a layout that for me was easy to picture whole. Then I went to Kbal Spean, which is not a temple but merely carvings done by ancient hermits long ago, in rocks now laying in the middle of a stream on broken pieces of stone. I waded in the water and thoroughly enjoyed myself, moreso when my motobike driver joined me with  bananas, cold water and gleeful splashing in the stream. That day ended on an incredibly high note and I was well pleased, even though I was too tired to last until a final sunset viewed from a different temple.

    So, I did the temples of Angkor alone and with friends, via tuk-tuk and motorbike and bicycle. I was not as awestruck as I had hoped and expected to be, but the experiences are ones that I don’t think I’ll soon forget.

    IMG_1438 --Z

  • Wednesday, December 8, 2010

    Appreciation

    Photos: Cambodia: Kampot, Kep & Rabbit Island

    • Saturday, Dec 4: Started recovering in Kampot, ate very plain fare, took two short walks that exhausted me; read my book, listened to iPod, e-mailed and napped.
    • Sunday, Dec 5: Continued recovering; rented a bicycle and meandered slowly around Kampot; continued with simple foods and apple juice; felt very drained and sad, but attributed this to antibiotics; took a second bicycle ride and tried to figure out what I wanted to do in the coming days; very low energy but no more being sick.
    • Monday, Dec 6: Took afternoon bus to Kep, just a forty-five minute bus-ride away from Kampot; met a couple, guy from Austria, girl from Norway, and we decided to search for a guest house together; after three places, we settled on Cham Kep, which faced the west and was on the coast; I wandered a bit on my own in the evening; went to crab market, which is a row of small shack restaurants specializing in crab; enjoyed relaxing in a hammock and watching the sun set; slept well. Finished antibiotics.
    • Tuesday, Dec 7: Took a thirty minute boat from Kep to Rabbit Island; paradise; spent the day reading, napping, swimming and sunning. Very quiet island paradise with palms, blue waters and bungalows with simple toilets; had dinner with the same couple, but otherwise relaxed on  my own.

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    My appetite and energy have returned, although I’m still a bit nervous when I eat. I’ve got a bit of a sun burn on my face and shoulders. I’m sandy even when I do my best to towel off. And I am loving every minute of being on Rabbit Island.

    Last night, the generator turned on around 7pm, when it got dark. At 9:30pm, it shut off, and then the island was quiet, besides the insects and the waves. I slept quite peacefully, with the constant light breeze creeping through the gaps of my rustic bungalow and keeping me cool. Right now I’m relaxing in front of my $7/night bungalow, on it’s small IMG_1155 porch, where a hammock supports me and swings each time I shift. I can look out and see the blue sky with thing wisps of cloud; palm trees by the dozens, soaring into that sky; the gorgeous blue water rippling in the wind; bamboo platforms scattered all around, with lazy sunbathers snoozing, reading or pondering the sea lying on top; boats at anchor; and the wandering island-dweller, doing chores or scattering the roaming chickens, dogs or cats.

    Today I traded in my book (“Hawaii” by Michener, I recommend it!) at one of the bars for a book on Angkor, which I will see in several days. I also wandered around the island for about two hours, following paths that looked not often used, and sometimes wondering if I was on a path at all. I got to see all sides of the island: rocky beaches, mangroves, muddy waters, clear waters, villages of the island community, abandoned boats. In some waters were row upon row of clear plastic water bottles, bobbing on the waters in a pattern indicating some kind of fish farm or net. IMG_1223

    Today I’ve been thinking a bit about how lucky I am to have the friends and family that I do. It’s odd, considering I haven’t been with any friends or family for over a month now. When I was sick, though, I managed to Skype with my parents twice each day for three full days, and that was such a comfort and a help when I was feeling so terrible. E-mailing with friends also helped, and getting to read about their goings-on and daily lives was a way for me to escape my own hot, uncomfortable days.

    There are times when I silently berate myself for being so dependent on others. Shouldn’t I be completely independent, able to support myself through good times and bad, toughing out the loneliness and enjoying the high points all by myself?

    The thing is, I decided today, I should count myself incredibly lucky and instead of berating myself, I should be congratulating myself. How fortunate I am to have such a great family, such caring and communicative friends, and how awesome is it that technology allows me to pipe them into my life? Far from being dependent on other people, I think today that my independence shows itself most strongly when I am able to share it with others in my life. And if sometimes I ease my difficult times by sharing my thoughts and frustrations with them, then that’s also perfectly all right: it’s the kind of person I am, that I can enjoy more fully and suffer less intensely when I can chat it out with others.

    So, thank you to you all, for letting me tell you all the details of my daily life on my travels, both trivial and momentous, ugly and beautiful. I can’t tell you how much it helps me experience things in different and meaningful ways, and how it makes me feel like loneliness is impossible, with a world full of people like you.

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    --Z

    Saturday, December 4, 2010

    Recovery, I Hope

    Photos: Cambodia: Crossing the Border

    • Monday, Nov 29, evening: Arrived at Chau Doc “floating hotel” in the midst of a rain storm; electricity intermittent; stayed by myself in three-bed room, no AC; nearby bachelor’s party an interesting experience, with 1.5L water bottles filled with homemade rice wine; loud music, karaoke, all the men quite happy to have foreigners to party with; went to bed around 10pm.
    • Tuesday, Nov 30: Up early for breakfast; harangued to buy a fast boat ticket, $5 more than the slow boat, finally gave in; we visited a fish farm and a small floating market, then were put on the “fast boat” around 8:30am, which supposedly would arrive in Phnom Penh around 2pm; arrived in Phnom Penh around 6pm, all passengers having decided we were ripped off by having paid for a fast boat but been put on a slow boat; border crossings went easily, only over-charged by $2; met Heather from England on the boat and we checked out four hotels in Phnom Penh, before settling on a $6 double room; went out for expensive but quite tasty dinner.
    • Wednesday, Dec 1: Slept in; visited Security Office 21, high school turned prison during Pol Pot regime, and nearby killing fields; very intense, disgusting and horrific; incredibly hot day; head cold worsened, tired easily; went to Russian Market and ate stall foods for lunch; attempted to visit Grand Palace but it was closed; wandered around a bit then headed back to hotel; dinner in the hotel; was not feeling well, took cold medicine.
    • Thursday, Dec 2: Felt better in the morning; walked up to Wat Phnom on the only hill in the city; walked down to Grand Palace but it was closed for lunch; went to National Museum which was quite nice, but I didn’t have the focus to really delve into it; ate at “Friends Cafe,” which had a lovely mango-papaya salad and sun-dried tomato dip; took a moto back to hotel for 1pm bus to Kampot, but were told the bus was broken and we were rebooked on a 1:45pm bus; mini-van came at 1:55pm and rushed us to the bus, which was full; we had to sit on plastic chairs set in the aisle and next to the driver; arrived in Kampot about an hour late; found Pepper Guest House double room to stay in; ate next door, yummy food, but I wasn’t feeling well so turned in early.
    • Friday, Dec 3: Woke up at 7am when Heather came stumbling in from a wild night out; promptly began having traveler’s diarrhea every fifteen to thirty minutes, which was soon accompanied by vomiting; hot, miserable, sweaty, sick; out of bed at 4pm when Heather left to bicycle around; got staff to clean bathroom, change sheets; they were nice, offering me plates of fruit (I nibbled in the evening) and a ride to the doctor’s if I needed it; Skyped with folks; to bed around 9pm, having not vomited since 4pm and the rest seemingly better, but still nauseous.

    IMG_1120 I’m sitting in a single papasan-style chair, the kind with a round wicker basket and a cushion in it. One foot is propped up on the small table in front of me and my view is quite pretty: palm trees, hanging plants, a little lawn with some flowers. I’m at the Pepper Guest House in Kampot, resting and feeling like I’ve been hiking all day. In reality, I was in bed until 8am, ate a meager breakfast of one small baguette with a little butter and jam, sipped about a quarter cup of apple juice, and Skyped with my mom. Then I walked with Heather for about twenty minutes around the small town, which completely exhausted me. It’s quite hot today and my two bottles of water are within reach.

    I finally succumbed to what every traveler gets at some point: traveler’s diarrhea. Luckily, I seem to have passed the worst of it, which was quite bad and I’m glad to leave it behind. There’s something terribly unromantic about the sweaty, nauseating business of traveler’s diarrhea, even if it is in the midst of a pretty little place like Kampot.

    My plan is to let myself recover here in Kampot for a couple of days. Today I will probably not do much more than nap, attempt to eat some plain, steamed rice, read, and catch up on captioning my pictures. I’ve begun the course of one of the antibiotics I brought with me and will continue taking that for another two days. I’m not hungry in the least and I’m quite hot and tired, but still, I feel so much better than yesterday that it’s laughable.

    Perhaps tomorrow, if I’m feeling still better, I’ll take a bike ride around town and outside of town. On Monday, if I’m feeling almost 100%, I’ll head to Kep for a day trip, and then Tuesday to Sihanoukeville, where beaches await.

    Apologies for the short post, but I do believe it’s time for a nap. For everyone who celebrates it, have a lovely Chanukah, full of lights, latkes and love.

    --Z

    Tuesday, November 30, 2010

    Where Do ______ Come From?

    Summary

    • Sunday, Nov 28: Up early, breakfast at hotel, waited for bus which picked us up forty minutes late; bus took seven hours to Saigon; on arrival, found one of Madame Cuc’s restaurants recommended by LP, were taken to first one alternate and then another; decent room on 5th floor, no elevator but strong AC; rained really hard! Out for dinner, got a bit lost, good pizza at middle-range restaurant; then to a bar where a Vietnamese guy offered to show Francezka around the next day and then that night, both refused; up until midnight chatting and preparing for the next day; booked whirlwind Mekong tour through hotel.
    • Monday, Nov 29: Up at 6am, showered, packed, downstairs for breakfast and quick internet check; said good-bye to Francezka and hopped on bus for day tour ending in Chau Doc; saw puff rice making, coconut candy making, rice paper making; bicycled on island in Long Xuyen; ate elephant fish for lunch (not much flavor); learned about Mekong River and Delta from guide Zack; long bus rides and boat rides throughout the day, but interesting way to get to Chau Doc for border crossing the next day.

    IMG_0993As the boat lists slightly to the port side, I am thinking about where things come from. We’re motoring up the Mekong River in a large boat with an open-air deck, but most of the group of thirty or so people are downstairs in the covered area. There are all sorts of nationalities: French, Spanish, American, British, Irish. The demographic is scattered too: a pair of older women traveling together; four Germans around my parent’s age, who occasionally ask me for the meaning of some English word or another; a couple from Britain traveling with their eight year old son; and several people my own age, none of whom have reached out to talk to the two single people, me and Oscar, the Spanish guy. It may be that I’m just a bit bummed about ending my travel with Francezka, who was a great travel companion, but the younger crowd here seem fairly self-centered and unfriendly.

    Anyway. Where do things come from? I’ve been struck several times so far during my trip with the realization that the things I take for granted are actually made by someone, somewhere. And while perhaps much of the mass-market stuff I buy is factory made or assembled, still, at some point, people were involved.

    IMG_0995Today I watched as three men and one woman worked away at making puff rice treats. First, one guy placed a huge cone-shaped metal dish over a hole in a cement oven. The    dish had black sand in it, which had been dredged from the bottom of the Mekong at some point long before. The sand heated up as he stuffed rice husks (devoid of the rice) and longang skins (local fruit much like a lychee, but sweeter) into the fire. When he deemed things ready, he tossed in a huge bucket of rice, which immediately began popping like popcorn! He grabbed the dish and shook it, mixing the sand and rice puffs and making sure none burned.

    Next he poured the cone-shaped dish full of sand and rice puffs into a box with a mesh bottom, suspended from the ceiling by wire. He shook this box back and forth vigorously, the sand falling through the mesh. He does this several times to get the sand out. The sand is brushed up and put back into the cone-shaped dish.

    Meanwhile, two other men have been stirring coconut milk, malt and sugar in a large bucket nearby. When the puffs have cooled a bit, they are put into another cone-shaped container and mixed with the sweet mixture in an intricate dance of the two men, each bearing two paddles and moving steadily around the container, mixing and tossing.

    IMG_0998Finally, the sweetened puffs are poured into a huge cookie sheet and allowed to cool before being sectioned by a machete and carefully packaged, by hand, by a woman sitting nearby.

    Have you ever bought puff rice treats at the store? Ever wonder where they come from, how they’re made? I don’t generally think of these things and, if I do, I figure it’s an automated factory. Maybe that’s even true in some cases. Here, though, I’m reminded every day that people’s livelihoods and lives center around creating so many things for mass consumption all over the world.



    I’ve seen this sort of things many times so far this trip:

    1. Coffee, where the beans are grown, picked, scattered in front of homes on tarps to dry in the sun, bagged, and driven to the factory for grinding, usually on the back of motorbikes.
    2. Silk, where the silkworm larvae are farmed, gathered, cleaned, boiled and the silk extracted in a hot and sweaty factory where women stand in front of troughs, picking out silk strands and connecting them to a machine which spools the thread from individual cocoons.
    3. Bricks, in outdoor, open-air, ramshackle buildings where women shovel pits of mud into a machine which shapes and stamps the mud into bricks, then spits them out onto a small conveyor belt. A woman stands at the end of the conveyor belt and has the sole job of stacking the good bricks or tossing the bad ones back into the machine, which is about eight feet away. The bricks are then gathered, piled and eventually carried up rickety ladders to be dropped into huge furnaces thirty feet high to bake and harden.
    4. Rice, in the rice paddies romanticized in pictures and paintings. People go out and stand in mud up to their knees, harvesting the rice stalks by hand with short curved blades; toss the stalks into piles on higher ground; wrap the stalks in sacking and carry huge loads of them on their backs to a machine operated by foot pedals; toss handfuls of stalks into the machine to have the rice stripped from them; beat the discarded stalks and collect any missed rice; and the rice then gathered, sacked and carried off for selling.
    5. IMG_0989 Rice paper, where one woman mixes rice flour (previously made by men by crushing boiled and dried rice) with water and then pours it onto a griddle, puts a top over it, and then carefully scrapes it up and places it on a huge circular disk made of woven bamboo, half hanging off the side to dry. A man then comes over, turns the disk so that he can scoop up the round, wet rice circle with a long, flat wooden stick and place it to dry in another area.
    6. Woven cloth and scarves, in the complicated looms operated by women of all ages. Women sit on cement floors with one end of the looms resting in their laps as they weave, single threads at a time, beautiful scarves with a variety of patterns and colors. Or, they sit on low stools in front of six foot long setups, weaving – again, thread by thread – an impossible length of cloth in a day. This cloth is then used by others to hand sew clothing, tablecloths and other goods.
    7. Bamboo baskets, cone-shaped hats made of dried palm fronds and silk paintings.
    8. Coconut goods, including candy, milk, and carved things such as spoons, bowls and toys.

     

    The list goes on and on and each time I am a bit surprised that I had never before realized the human sweat and work that goes into each product.

    I hope I can remember this, although I’m not sure what to do with the realization. Maybe appreciate things a bit more instead of assuming that they just appear for everyone’s enjoyment. And maybe thing about the millions of people who live their whole lives creating these luxuries, while not having access to much of luxury themselves.

    And maybe it’s a way of thinking of the bigger world instead of my own little sphere, which in turn can help me make better – or at least more educated – decisions on what to buy, organizations to support and people to appreciate rather than dismiss or feel superior to simply because of geography and opportunity.

    --Z

    Sunday, November 28, 2010

    Travel Weary and Saddle Sore

    Photos: Vietnam: Nha Trang to Dalat via Motorbike

    Summary

    • Tuesday, Nov 23: Bicycled around Nha Trang, up to expensive spa and down to a temple; learned a bit about Buddhism; discussed Buddhist sayings and our different interpretations of them; strange one-hour massage at spa recommended by hotel; LP-recommended place for dinner, disappointing; found another place, much better!; supermarket visit; drinks and girl-talk back at hotel.
    • Wednesday, Nov 24: Boat and snorkel trip from 8am-1pm; lazy beach time; cold shower to soothe sunburn; dinner at Chopsticks (found night before).
    • Thursday, Nov 25: Departed hotel for Easy Rider trip via motorbike to Dalat; visited coffee plantation, peppercorn farm and minority people village; slept in home-stay bungalow.
    • Friday, Nov 26: Up early, back on bikes; visited Elephant Falls, silkworm factory, silk weaving village, green tea plantation; ended in Dalat; some scary roads and even scarier driving by Easy Riders; two-star hotel turned out to be pretty nice.
    • Saturday, Nov 27: Spent morning motorbiking around Dalat; visited old king’s villa, flower park, train station and Crazy House; parted ways with Easy Riders; went to Lang Bien and hiked along main road and dirt path for about two hours, nice views; came down; walked around Dalat, found dinner, back in room early; Skyped with parents; bought onward tickets.

     

    I sucked in my breath for what seemed to be the millionth time that day.

    Perhaps my death will involve the bike falling broadside onto the gravel road, sliding along and skinning my side, then dropping off the edge of the road into the rocky, vine-y and tree-filled valley below.

    I was on the slightly elevated back seat of a motorbike being driven by an Easy Rider by the name of Taung, a twenty-eight year old Vietnamese kid who liked to say repeatedly, “The real fucking Vietnam!” This was invariably followed by a crazy laugh, squinty-eyed grin and arms being flung open to encompass our surroundings. Francezka and I had taken off that morning with Taung and Dao, who carefully bungee-chorded our packs and bags to the backs of their bikes, for a three-day trip to Dalat.

    IMG_0664 At first the ride was beautiful: coastline whizzed by, the sun and wind and blue sky ever present, and the thrill of going on an adventure filling our minds and hearts. Our Riders were young and energetic, weaving along the well-paved road and making me squeeze my eyes shut as we seemed inevitably bound for a pothole or rocky patch of road. I tried to sway with Taung as he sped up and leaned into his turns. I tried to breathe normally. I tried to keep myself from shrieking. I was successful at all of these things, except for the occasional sudden gasp.

    They gave us a break every thirty or forty minutes, stopping at scenic points where we could take pictures and walk around a bit. Usually they would point up the road and tell us they’d pick us up in a few minutes.

    IMG_0688Even after we turned inland from the coast, the scenery was beautiful. We passed rice  paddies, workers in the fields, plantations of all kinds and pedestrians of all ages. As we got further from the city, people – especially the children – got more excited to see us, waving and crying, “He-llo!” I never got tired of waving back.

    We sped through small towns that had huge tarps spread in front of each home, each tarp covered with coffee beans or curry-coloring seeds or cobs of corn, all drying in the sun. We visited a coffee bean plantation, learning that the beans would be green first, but 


    IMG_0748

    when they turned red they were ready for harvesting. They would then be dried in the sun for  several days before being ground up into coffee people use every day. There were yards full of tarps and beans. We saw a peppercorn farm, and I learned that the peppercorn plant is a parasite that wraps around only one kind of tree. We picked a soft, spiny green fruit that when opened showcased wet, red seeds: their coloring is used to color curry powder. 

     


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    As morning turned into afterrnoon, which darkened into evening, we arrived at our lodgings for the evening: a minority village. We were shown to one of many bungalows along a single dirt path. This bungalow contained a family in the back half, whom we never got to meet, and four soft beds  on the floor in the front half. We each took one and set up the accompanying mosquito nets. Francizka and I worked our way past mud pits, pigs and dogs to watch the sunset, a brilliant bloody red affair, over the lake with fish farms dotting it. 


    IMG_0812

    The only sounds were the water lapping against rocks, dogs snuffling and barking, a tv blaring somewhere and the frogs, crickets and other outdoors-type noises. We both slept well but had odd dreams; odder still that we both dreamed of killing people. I attributed this to the extreme fear and gut-wrenching ride of the day before. 

    After breakfast the next morning, we were off once again. Our first obstacle: a washed out muddy road. Dao tipped his bike, dropping Francizka off unceremoniously into the mud and dust and leaving her with a burn on her leg from the exhaust pipe. Otherwise everyone was fine and as our RIders bumped and slid along, Francizka and I walked. We saw rice  being harvested that day, walking down amongst the workers as they expertly cut the stalks of rice with small but wicked curved blades. We watched as the men put the stalks through a machine which they kept running by a foot pedal; the machine spun and whirred, getting the rice off the stalks. A woman with a baby strapped across her back then beat the discarded stalks with a large club, getting every last grain off.


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    We also visited a silk weaving factory, where young women were seated behind complicated setups. They wove one thread at a time, manipulating hanging bean bags and a foot-pedals to change the patterns, and using a wooden machete-shaped tool to make sure each thread was firmly in place. There was a silkworm factory, where we saw the cocoons being boiled, the silk extracted and huge spools of thread being prepared for the weavers. It stank. About halfway through the day, our Riders got a bit excited and began racing each other, trying to out do the other by passing various other vehicles while simultaneously dodging potholes, rocks and pedestrians. 

    For the millionth time the second day, I sucked in a gasp and groaned aloud.

    Perhaps my death will involve a bright pink bus hitting our bike head on as Taung attempts to pass vehicles in front of us. I will be the splat of a mosquito on a windshield, but oh, so much messier.


    IMG_0848

    The scariest and most unsafe moment for me was as we were ascending the mountains on windy switchback roads. We came upon a bus and both Taung and Dao kept attempting to pass it, never mind the blind corners, narrow roads and oncoming traffic (mostly bikers like us).

    All in all, we arrived safely, though saddle sore and wobbly-legged, in Dalat. Our Riders were still energetic, playing chicken with the other motorbike traffic, taking us back and forth around the city in what seemed, at the time, a repetitive and thoroughly unwelcome tour of the city. My bum was throbbing and my legs were going number. The endless drone of the motorbike seemed to reverberate inside my helmet, even as I sang to myself to keep my mind off the visions of death flowing through my mind. As we rode along the ridgeline overlooking the city, I stopped singing, opened my eyes, and suddenly sucked in my breath once more.

    Vietnam: it’s beautiful.

     

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    IMG_0702IMG_0883 

     

     

     

     

    --Z

    Monday, November 22, 2010

    Beach Time is Happy Time

    Photos: Vietnam: Hoi An & Nha Trang

    Note: I’m trying a new format for this post. Please e-mail me or leave a comment and let me know what you think! The idea is to minimize writing all about the little details (resulting in less lengthy posts) and focus in on a thing or two that really stuck out to me. So, I will do a brief recap, and then write a post. Feel absolutely free to skip the recap if details bore you!

    Recap of the last few days:

    • Nov 19: Took bus from Hue to Hoi An (~4 hours), met Francizka from Switzerland, decided to room together at pricier hotel (Phuoc An), wandered Hoi An and loved it, swam in hotel pool, found tailor shop and picked two things to have made to order, had cao lau, local specialty noodles made only with local well water, fried crisp with crabmeat and tomatoes, slept hard
    • Nov 20: Wonderful breakfast in hotel, wandered Hoi An on my own, visited tailor shop for fitting, bicycled to the beach with Francizka on free rickety hotel bikes, got a coconut palm hut and drinks and chairs, swam, relaxed, had very nice dinner out (white rose, gazpacho)
    • Nov 21: Got up at 4:30am for My Son tour through hotel, old Champa ruins beautiful in the morning light and my group was the only one there, back in time for hotel breaKfast, Francizka and I bicycled to the beach again, picked up clothes from the tailor, parted ways, dinner at Laughing Cafe and watched domestic street life with kids running around, parents chatting and chasing the kids, overnight bus to Nha Trang, got front, left, top bed, much better though still not terribly comfortable, bus swerved a lot and tool case brought out several times throughout the night
    • Nov 22: Arrived Nha Trang 7am, looked at first hotel which promised elevator (not working), room with two big windows (one was looking into the hallway) and AC (cost extra if you wanted to use it), found a hotel for $9/night with two beds, called Francizka to see about sharing, she had a much nicer one across the lane so we bunked together again, first stop breakfast (meuslix, fruit, honey, yummy!), next stop beach, swam and napped and sunned, had Italian for lunch (spaghetti), booked a three day, two night motor bike trip with local Easy Riders to Dalat, back to the beach, shower and put on new sun dress made in Hoi An, dinner out

     And now, the post itself:

    IMG_0485My dad used to call me his water baby, a very accurate nickname in light of the absolute  joy I found in almost any body of water. The past few days have consisted of beaches and a pool and me swimming at both, and I couldn’t be happier. The weather has been mostly good, with passing clouds and a rain shower here and there. With my ever-dawning sense of Vietnam and the ways of the tourist trail I’m following on my way south, I have been enjoying my time here more and more.

    Diving into the South China Sea at Dai Cau beach to the east of Hoi An, after a somewhat harry ride on a rickety bicycle with no gears and sketchy brakes, was such a relief! The waves tossed me about quite a bit, and I got sand everywhere, but this is what a beach visit means and I was pleased. I let myself bake a bit in the sun before ordering a coconut shake, which was part of the deal of using the beach chairs and shade. It felt like heaven! We were on the beach for perhaps two and a half hours total, but that was all it really took for me to really relax for the first time in awhile.

    When I think back to Hue and my negative reaction there, I come to the conclusion that a number of factors collided. First, I was tired from the night bus experience. Second, the weather was damp and hot and cloudy. Third, my frustration with understanding Vietnam and why it seemed to me a greedy and third-world country when I hadn’t expected it, had come to a head. Fourth, my emotional discomfort with being an American, female, solo traveler in Vietnam was peaking. And fifth and finally, I had settled for a cheap and crappy hotel room.

    This does not a happy traveler make. It brought to light a truth I’d read about pre-trip: sometimes you just have to IMG_0541leave a place! Hue was not for me at the time I went there and so leaving it was the best thing I could have done. A fresh start in a (to me) fresh place, meeting someone I could talk to and room with, treating myself to a nice hotel; all of these things helped me re-center and focus. I did very little sight-seeing in Hoi An, with  My Son being the only real tour I took. I was able to appreciate it, though: amazement at the history and fact that the Champa had made and mortared bricks in a way still a mystery to today’s scientists; the sorrow of knowing that B-52 bombs, dead on impact, exploded years after the war and killed several Vietnamese tourists and destroyed most of the ruins; and pleasure at seeing an ancient civilizations works that had survived thirteen hundred years, weather and man-kind’s wars.

    It also highlighted a very important travel-fact about myself: going to a beach or body of water, swimming and floating and relaxing, will help me to reset myself. It’s good to know a cure for the doldrums or depression or loneliness that will inevitably strike again during this year. And so, while in Nha Trang, I plan to get my fill of the beach and sun, do some snorkeling, and enjoy what Vietnam has to offer with, hopefully, a more tempered understanding and the joy only travel can bring on. In short, I plan to be a water baby.

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    --Z

    Thursday, November 18, 2010

    Trying to ‘Get’ Vietnam

    Photos: Vietnam: From Hanoi to Hue

       *Subnote: I have not captioned these yet… wifi is incredibly slow here!

    It’s Thursday evening and I’m struggling with my reactions to Vietnam so far. With the exception of Halong Bay, I can’t say as I’ve really enjoyed myself so far. It’s not that anything particularly bad has happened, or that I’m feeling unwell, or anything along those lines. It’s just… Hanoi was crowded and hot and it felt like every single sales person was trying to gouge me on prices. I can understand a higher price for tourists, but I can’t understand trying to get away with charging me up to twenty times the normal price. As I’ve headed south, it’s gotten hotter, muggier and more half-built / half-decayed. Today, though, I had the slightest of epiphanies. Whether it helps me to cope with and understand Vietnam at least a little remains to be seen.

    Let me start with Tuesday, though.

    Tuesday, Nov 16, 2010

    Slow morning waking up, showering, re-packing and getting ready for the day. I had to be at the travel agent’s office by 5:30pm, but otherwise had no commitments. The first thing I tackled was checking out of the hotel and this was my first challenge: First, they conveniently forgot that I’d paid a deposit. When I produced my receipt (which I’d had to insist upon them giving me), they wanted to suddenly up the exchange rate for the dollar on me. You see, the Vietnamese have learned to quote prices in USD, then when you don’t have USD to give them, they tell you how strong the dollar is these days and do the conversion rate accordingly. At first look, this seems to be advantageous for me, but then as the amount of dong I owe goes up, I see how they get their extras. All of the sudden,instead of the steady $1USD=19,000VND, the hotel staff insists that today the dollar is stronger, so that $1USD=21,000VND.

    Before you say, “Oh, geez, that’s less than a dime! What’s the problem?!” Just realize that every single person seems to do this, plus at minimum doubling the price – and sometimes going up to twenty times the appropriate price – and so a dime over the course of a week can get quite costly. Especially for someone trying to keep on a lower budget.

    Anyway, they tried this conversion thing first and I refused, asking them to show me on the internet what the exchange rate was. They backed off and agreed on the afore-agreed-upon price at the appropriate exchange rate, but when I needed some change from them, they insisted they didn’t have it. I told them to give me the money back so that I could go get change, and they tried to give me a bottle of water instead of the change (making that the most expensive bottle of water in Hanoi). I refused and started to get upset and finally someone magically found the appropriate amount of change.

    I mean, really. Can’t a girl just check out in peace?! I left my pack in their lobby and headed out. The first place I visited was just across the street: a propaganda poster shop. IMG_0273 It was pretty interesting to see some of their stuff, especially from the Vietnam/American War timeframe. I took a good twenty minutes going through the two rooms full of posters. Some encouraged wartime efforts such as rice farming, or participation by women, or joining the forces for freedom. Sound familiar? Then there were those showing a US bomber plane falling out of the sky, with the number “4,000” printed on it, showing how many planes the Vietnamese had downed. There were shadows of manacles being broken and other symbolism of breaking the bonds of tyranny. Very interesting!

    I headed out and decided to eat an early lunch at Pho 24, a chain restaurant that is apparently pretty prolific in the south of Vietnam, although I only saw two of them in Hanoi. The pho (beef noodle soup) was pretty tasty! Also, I met an Australian girl there who’d just arrived from Cambodia. She talked up a tour she’d been on there through Gecko Adventure Tours and got me thinking about possibly booking with them. Good thing to look into, anyway!

    I decided to walk around a bit after this, and was pressed pretty hard by a woman street vendor to buy some of her fruit. When I declined, she smiled really big and held out her baskets to me, beckoning to my camera. When I hesitated, wondering if I should give her my camera, she plopped her hat on my head and gestured again at the camera. So, I did the tourist thing and played street vendor for thirty seconds. She snapped my photo and then took her things back, holding out a bag with two bananas and some slices of pineapple in it. I sighed and asked her how much. When she quoted me six times the price I was willing to pay, I haggled her down, walking away until she agreed on the price I’d stated.

    Next up a motorbike ride to see the War Museum, an eclectic, somewhat disorganized collection of wartime artifacts from throughout the ages in Vietnam. Some dated back IMG_0275 several centuries and some was from their 20th century struggles. For me, it was completely disturbing to walk out into the courtyard to be greeted by US Air Force planes shot down and then salvaged. There was also an odd pile/sculpture of B-52 bomber scraps. I wondered if I should feel angry or sad or personally affronted, although I didn’t feel any of these things. It did bring home, though, how the countries we get involved with become proud of the things we condemn them for. And I have friends today who are over in Iraq or Afghanistan. Will their planes, or vehicles, or uniforms, someday be on display in an Middle Eastern ‘war museum’? That is the thought which gave me the chills.

    My motorbike driver was waiting for me outside and we zoomed on over to the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum and complex. I didn’t go into the mausoleum, but I did check out the front of the One Pillar Pagoda, which was a model, I believe, of his home, that people respected for it’s simplicity. Actually, I didn’t go in, because there seemed to be a religious ceremony going on. I then walked up to a huge building which turned out to be the Ho Chi Minh Museum. Curious, I paid the entry fee and went inside. There I was greeted with the most incredible museum comprised of art, craft and history, mixed in pretty interesting ways. I didn’t understand all of it; certainly, there was incredible symbolism I had no idea about. I would love to go back someday and learn about what it all meant.

    Here is one of my internal struggles with Vietnam: all my life I’ve been raised with the American education of “communism is bad,” and my recollection of any history education on Vietnam has just left me with the idea that Ho Chi Minh was bad as well. Yet here I was, in a museum revering him with statuary, photos, art and poetry all in his honor. The representation of him here, of course, is of saintly good, of a man for the people who brought the country to independence and who insisted on education for everyone, technological progress and so forth. How could this be bad?

    I left the museum impressed and bemused, found my motorbike driver and asked him to drive me to the area of my hotel. He tried to get me to agree to a motorbike tour of Hanoi, but I declined and he took me to St. Joseph’s Cathedral, which is just up the street from my hotel. There, he insisted that I took too long at the museum and that I owed him more than our agreed-upon price. I refused, feeling downhearted once more. It took five minutes before I could turn and walk away. I don’t like treating people like that, but my fuse is getting shorter and rather than get visible and audibly upset, I figured it’s better to walk away and ignore them.

    It was time for an early dinner, so I stopped at La Place, which was just adjacent to the cathedral, and had cha ca, a Vietnamese specialty of grilled fish with shrimp paste. It was quite tasty and filling! Afterwards, I just relaxed, reading a book on my iPod and letting time pass. Finally, I decided it was time to grab my bags from the hotel and then take the ten minute walk over to the travel agent’s office. On the way, I ran into Judy and Dan, the Vermont couple I’d met in Cat Ba. We stood and chatted, discussing our various reactions to Vietnam and trying to make sense of it all. Finally, we said a last good-bye and good luck, and went our separate ways.

    Later, I caught the sleeper-bus to Hue. It was quite the trip! First, a minivan picked me up to take me to the bus station. It started out with just me, but soon filled to capacity, and then beyond capacity: there were four people standing crammed next to the sliding door! We were released in front of a row of shops, one of which was the bus stop: a one room, half crumbling place where they glanced at your ticket, stamped and tore it and pointed outside with a grunt. I’d decided to just go with the flow because I had no idea what to expect. There were several others in the same frame of mind and we all giggled and shrugged as we were herded to a large bus.

    IMG_0286The sleeper bus was made of up three rows of beds, one row on each side by the windows  and one row going up the middle. Each row had an upper and lower bunk. In the back of the bus, where I ended up, there were five across on both the top and bottom. These beds are made for Asian sized people, which at first seemed good for me, since I’m short. They’re narrow as well, though, and don’t leave a lot of room for stretching out. Most of the beds have a cubby where you stick your feet, in fact. I was in an aisle bed, meaning I had someone immediately on my right and immediately to my left. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic because it was quite, quite cozy. The first picture to the left shows my bottom-bunk, back-of-the-bus cave. These were the three people to my left. There was one person to my right. The second picture to the left is a picture forward from my bed. I think there were about thirty beds in all on the bus. We filled the entire thing in Hanoi and then began our fourteen hour trip to Hue. IMG_0287

    The overhead lights were kept on until about 9:30pm. We made one rest stop that evening and another in the morning around 8am. I had an incredibly difficult time getting comfortable, but finally figured out that lying on my side was my only hope. The last row of beds were slightly more inclined than the others in the bus, and oddly proportioned to boot: the inclined part of the bed was maybe five feet long, and the flat part where the legs go was about a foot long. My butt kept sliding down, no matter how I’d push myself up, which would force me to bend my legs quite a bit, and push my feet against the metal "footboard.”

    Until the lights were turned out, I decided to attempt to write postcards. My apologies to those who get these… my handwriting is pretty terrible. It seemed as though the bus driver were aiming for only the deepest potholes. One time, the bump was so bad that everyone flew out of their beds a couple of inches. Since I was sitting up, my head slammed into the upper bunk. After that I lay down and tried to get comfortable. I did actually get a little sleep, interrupted by the occasional bump or swerve. I swear that at one point the bus leaned tremendously to the right. Whether it actually went onto two wheels or not, I can’t say: my eyes were tightly shut as I swore to myself.

    If this description reminds you of the Harry Potter night bus, well… it should! That’s exactly what was in my head the whole night.

    Wednesday, Nov 18, 2010

    We arrived in Hue the next morning around ten thirty am, just an hour or two later than expected. We were greeted by rain and a crowd of touts who started shouting and grabbing at us as we exited the bus. In the next five minutes, I was shown a room in a hotel, offered water, offered a motorbike tour, begged to switch hotels and had no less than three pieces of paper advertising city tours. When the guy who’d shown me the hotel room asked me for my passport to check in, I held up both of my hands, palms forward, and said, “Give me ten minutes. Please, stop, give me ten minutes to just… just…” And then I walked out. I was tired, sweaty, grungy and somehow also mildewy. I needed time to wake up and figure things out.

    First, I went to another hotel that Dan and Judy had recommended. I was followed for three blocks by a guy pedaling a bicycle with a basket in front, until he finally understood that no meant no. The hotel looked nice, but was twice the price of the first hotel and not that much noticeably nicer. So I went back to the first hotel and checked in, promptly locking my door and sinking on to the squeaky, noisy bed. I took more than an hour to get myself organized, decide on what I wanted to do for the day, which wasn’t too much but involved finding lunch, locating the place I wanted to have dinner, and then just walking around a bit.

    For lunch, I really wanted pizza. There was an Italian place mentioned in my guidebook, so I set out to find this, shaking off the dozen sales pitches for water, cheap lunch, motorbike rides and tours of the city. I found a different place and settled there, having my slice of mediocre pizza and a mango shake. When I left that place, I immediately spotted the Italian place I was aiming for… go figure! The place I wanted to go for dinner was described in my book as having traditional music performances in the evening, so I went and found it, looked at the menu and confirmed the music details. Then I decided to head back to the hotel for a nap.

    IMG_0297Before I had gone a dozen paces, though, I saw what seemed to be a women’s craft center. I went in to take a look and am so glad I did! The atmosphere was serene and the artwork was incredible. My favorite was the silk embroidery pictures, which ranged from portraits to animals to landscapes, and were exquisite. 

    There was also a clothing shop with wonderfully embroidered pieces, the conical hats famous in Vietnam, and silk pajamas. I didn’t buy anything, but it was a struggle! I must have spent about forty-five minutes in the small complex, admiring the work and watching a room of women as they worked at the embroidery.

    Finally, my energy flagged almost completely and I headed back to my little hotel. I napped for over an hour, which I must really have needed because I awoke feeling more like myself. I putzed around on the computer for a bit and then decided to head for the dinner place. It was dark out, though, and I felt unaccountably nervous about walking to the restaurant by myself.

    This is another feeling I haven’t had so strongly as in Vietnam: unsafe. Again, I don’t quite know if this is because of actual signals I’m getting from my environment or if it’s my foggy understanding and accompanying discomfort of being an American in Vietnam, but there it was: I felt unsafe being a single female walking around after dark.

    So I promptly flagged down a motorbike and negotiated a price (probably too high, but worth it to me). On the way, he chatted me up and tried to get me to agree to a night tour of Hue via motorbike, but I declined somewhat nervously. No Vietnamese has ever made a move that makes me feel vulnerable or physically uncomfortable, but still… he could just drive into the middle of nowhere with me hanging onto the back of the bike!

    This didn’t happen and I arrived safely at the Tropical Garden Restaurant. I was early for the dinner crowd and was seated at a table for two off to the side of the massive dining area. It wasn’t air conditioned but was cool anyway, thankfully. I ordered a pineapple juice and then read my book on my iPod until other diners started to trickle in, primarily tour groups. Then I ordered a set menu, treating myself to an expensive meal (expensive being IMG_0311about $15USD). It was fascinating and, accompanied by the traditional music, was quite enjoyable. The only downside was that I was alone. It was a decidedly lonely evening, surrounded as I was by tour groups chatting amiably amongst themselves and couples at other tables. However, the girl bringing my dishes was very sweet, smiling at me each time she passed and taking great pains to explain what each dish was to me.

    Also, the traditional music was just awesome. I had a front table seat, so I had a great view of the five musicians. There were four women and one man and each played something different. The girl closest to me played a stringed instrument like a guitar which rested on her lap and had many more strings, which she plucked with her fingers. The next girl played a stringed instruments with two padded sticks. Next was the man, who played a stringed instrument that had a thin handle which, when manipulated, would make the sound warble. Next to him was a woman who used two small wooden sticks to keep a beat and make different sounds when tapped against each other. And on the end, an older woman had what seemed to be two porcelain teacups in each hand. She would rattle these together in a jingly way, making them sound at times as if they had bells inside! Here is a video of them playing:

    After dinner, I caught a ride home, showered and went to bed. Whew!

    Today, Thursday, Nov 18, 2010

    Today I went on a city tour of Hue, taking in all the tombs of ancient monarchs as well as the Citadel, a former city center where huge ceremonies would take place and the king, IMG_0345 queen, concubines and other royal personages lived. The tombs were pretty, being actual areas that the monarchs would design, then stay to relax there, and eventually be entombed there. It was the Citadel, though, that gave me pause. So much of it was in ruin, with a structure here or there having been recently revitalized. It hit me near the end of our quick Citadel tour that Vietnam is still recovering from it’s 20th century struggles. Both France and the US beat the hell out of Vietnam through bombing, assaults and all kinds of other warfare. This means, essentially, that many landmarks and city areas were destroyed or at least partially ruined.

    Even though that all ended about thirty years ago, it takes longer than that for a country to recover. First the people must recover and rebuild their basic living means, and I suppose that the people themselves had to repopulate a bit as well. Most of the renovation being done at the Citadel was due to it’s being named a UNESCO World Heritage Site and being given funds.

    IMG_0444 Somehow this struck me and made me ashamed that I’ve been so unimpressed with Vietnam. Of course it’s not booming and modern! And of course there’s an odd contrast between old style and new. It only makes sense when you think that they have been dealing with other things, as an entire country, than keeping up living standards and technology. They’ve been struggling just to catch up to where they would have been had they been free to develop.

    I don’t know if my minor insight will help me to enjoy Vietnam more or to understand it better, but at least I feel like I gained some kind of insight. It took seeing the Citadel, ruins next to rebuilding, to really understand. The effects of war don’t end because peace accords are signed. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever see an Iraq or an Afghanistan that isn’t ruined. All these countries have places that are – or were – really old to begin with, and preserving them would be difficult. Then have them bombed or shot at or attacked… it’s incredible that heritage is actually preserved!

    Well, it was interesting and a tiring day. Tomorrow I head to Hoi An in the morning – just a three hour bus ride, hopefully! For now, I’m going to venture out to find some dinner, repack, and head to bed.

    --Z