Vietnam- Mekong to Hanoi

The three weeks I spent traveling from Vietnam’s Mekong Delta to Hanoi was, to put it mildly, a very trying time. At first glance Vietnam appears to be a country easy to travel through. A large part of their economy is based on tourism and they are very big into organized outings offering loads of cheap tours to the most popular destinations. Buses run, amazingly, on time and stop at the best places along the long, skinny country. However, it was incredible how difficult it was to communicate with these people who deal with foreigners on a daily basis. Simple questions, like “What time does my bus leave?” were met by blank stares at so-called tourist information booths and even exaggerated hand gestures, like pretending to shovel food into my mouth when I was looking for a restaurant, only produced more confused faces. I guess the fact that only about 20% of Vietnamese get an education has something to do with this but Vietnam is the seventh country I have visited so far on this trip and it has definitely been the most difficult and disappointing.

Besides the impossible language barrier I was also very saddened by the bulk of people I met. Every single day I had to fight for a decent price on a bottle of water and every time I made a purchase I had to carefully count my change which more than 90% of the time was wrong- the person always trying to short change me. Once a restaurant even tried to charge me extra for the napkin I used even though this mysterious charge was not listed on the menu. All these little petty extra fees left me with a bad taste in my mouth. As a tourist you are already paying at least three times the local price but it’s still really cheap on our standards so you don’t mind paying- but when they are constantly trying to take more and more, even if it’s just a few cents, it makes you feel so used, so targeted, like your really being taken advantage of. The blatant exploitation of tourists was really irritating and unfortunately left me a little disheartened about the country as a whole.

Ok- now that I’ve vented about the things that made me want to pull my hair out- it would be unfair to say that my whole experience here was abysmal. There were many wonderful, special experiences- pockets of the beauty I was expecting to see- that helped lift my spirits.

For instance, I really enjoyed getting a glimpse into the daily lives of the people who live on the Mekong Delta’s floating markets. Boat owners serve as middlemen between farmers and consumers on the river and these markets are the main way farmers sell their crops. It is extremely cost effective for farmers to transport their goods by water and by selling on the river they avoiding paying a hefty government tax land vendors have to pay. Generations of families are raised on these boats that putter up and down the massive river bartering vegetables and fruit. When children are grown and marry they move off of the family boat, buy their own and the process starts all over again. The long wooden boats are adorned with laundry hanging from clotheslines and children napping in hammocks that sway like cradles on the gently rocking vessels.

While visiting Ho Chi Minh- or as the locals still refer to it, Saigon, I felt morally obligated to visit the historic war museum which left me feeling worse than learning about the atrocities that occurred in Cambodia. This was probably because the horrors on display were a direct result of our country. I know both sides committed disgusting and horrible acts during the war and both countries suffered greatly. However, I was horrified seeing the effects of our use of napalm and Agent Orange- it seems so much more inhumane, so much more evil to attack the environment and use chemical warfare than just our standard, deadly bombs and guns. There are people still being affected by Agent Orange today and parts of their environment still haven’t fully recovered from our aggressive attacks.

Coming up the coast Mui Ne’s wonderfully barren sand dunes and fishing villages with tiny basket boats kept my camera happy and a few days exploring the superb lakes, waterfalls and evergreens of the cool mountain town, Dalat, was a welcome change to the sweltering coast.

Hoi An has a sublime beach dotted with palm trees and it was easy falling into pace with the mellow old town ambiance. The old town’s colorful buildings are swarming with tailors that will make anything and everything for you at a ridiculously low cost. I was ecstatic at the thought of having a dress handmade for me and what should have been a fun experience turned out disastrous. A pounding headache and four alterations later I ended up with a very risky looking number that I will probably only wear if I decide to dress as a hoochie Asian girl for Halloween!!! YIKES!

Exploring the many caves and temples of the Marble Mountains was an unforgettable afternoon and appreciating the captivating limestone formations during a relaxing boat ride up the Ngo Dong river in Tam Coc helped me forget the everyday annoyances I was facing- at least for a little while.

When I finally arrived in Hanoi it felt like I had just finished a very long race and I was extremely thankful that I would not have to endure another sleepless night on a hot, crowded, bumpy overnight bus. I’m not much of a city girl and most of the time I don’t have much an opinion about cities- I can really take them or leave them. The one thing that really struck me here in Hanoi was how strange it was to see whole streets dedicated to one type of store. There was a street for just sunglasses, one of only clothing shops, another of spices… it seems like a bad business move considering every single store is selling the same exact thing. It would seem to make more sense spreading them out throughout the city but I had to stop asking “why” about things along time ago. Also, Hanoi has to be the winner of the busiest sidewalk award. One of my pet peeves about Southeast Asia on a whole is that walking on the sidewalks in these incredibly busy cities is virtually impossible. Motorbikes and vendors take up every inch of the sidewalk forcing pedestrians to fend for themselves in the streets among the thick traffic as a symphony of horns blare at you like you have any other choice about where you can walk.

It is not like me to be so negative about a place in general and I’ve been trying to look at my experience here with a more positive attitude. I am also taking into account that some of my frustrations were due to a terrible bout of homesickness that snuck up on me- but sadly the people I interact with are what makes or breaks an experience for me. Despite my everyday annoyances I have a great deal of respect for the Vietnamese. I am full of admiration and a little confusion at how a country full of such unpretentious people were able to force out the French, Chinese and good ol’ USA from their beloved land. Obviously they are a wonderfully resilient people and amazingly forgiving. My parents were concerned that I might be met with some hostility while traveling here- the war something they still remember with clarity- but not one person seemed even remotely put off by my birthplace. It seems that they are perfectly happy leaving the past just where it is-history.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Cambodia’s capital, Phnom Penh, was a city full of incredible highs and disturbing lows. The lows came from learning all about the genocide Cambodians faced in the 1970’s. A communist party called the Khmer Rouge killed thousands of people in attempt to turn Cambodia into a peasant-dominated country. Anyone suspected of having an education, spoke a different language or in some cases just wore glasses was slaughtered. Visiting the well-known prison S-21 and the killing fields was an educational but horrible day. The goose bumps and sick feeling in my stomach was as real as the hundreds of faces, mug shots, of the prisoners that were brutally tortured and murdered at S-21. It was sickening seeing photos of the tortured prisoners, lying dead or dying on the prison’s checkered floor, and then standing on that same floor as in the photo.

The killing fields were just as awful with it’s shrine to the victims made up of over 8000 skulls and seeing bits of tattered clothing and pieces of bones poking out of the dirt paths that lead to you the sites of the mass graves. A sign telling visitors “Killing tree against which executioners beat children” made the whole experience almost too much to take. Approximately 17,000 men, women and children were executed here.
I can’t begin to understand the mindset of people who could do that to another human being. How does a person or a group of people get to that point? Almost 2 million Cambodians died between 1975-1979.

On a brighter note I had one of my most inspiring and wonderful days on this trip visiting Phnom Penh’s Lighthouse Orphanage. To say I was greeted warmly would be a terrible understatement because from the moment I got to the orphanage I had a child glued to my side, clinging to my hand, eager to show me around. About 40 children ranging in ages from 18 months to 17-years-old call this place home. They spend their days going to school at the compound and playing volleyball or futbal in the courtyard. They sleep in tiny twin bunk beds, usually 3-4 children per bed and are each responsible for scrubbing their clothing clean using buckets and water from an old pump well.

On Sundays visitors are invited to come and play with the children. The older kids get all dolled up in make-up and costumes and perform traditional Cambodian dances while the younger ones gather around wildly clapping and smiling from ear-to-ear at the performance. The way these kids smile, laugh and play you would think they are the luckiest people in the world. They were so sweet and friendly that the second you sat down you had a child crawling onto your lap. It’s so amazing to see happiness in such a raw form. In reality they have very little to be happy about and yet their joy was so strong it was contagious.

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

I left Bangkok in a comfy air-conditioned bus headed to Siem Reap Cambodia- a 14-hour bus ride. 14 hours in a bus is a pretty daunting experience but due to the relative comfort and even movies playing on the TV I didn’t think I would be too miserable. However, as I crossed the Thailand/Cambodia boarder I thought I had been teleported back to Africa. Suddenly we were transferred from our “luxury” bus and piled onto a stuffy, old rickety bus cover in dust. On the Thailand side of the boarder the road was paved, buildings built properly- a relatively modern place. In contrast to the Cambodia side where the stores are made of scraps of wood and metal and the road became an endless stretch of potholes, pools of mud and loose dirt. Crossing the boarder was like crossing into a different world- suddenly all sense of order was lost.

It was really exciting to be back in such a rustic place. Most of the Asia I had seen thus far was very modern (excluding my little Indo rainforest jaunt). Here the local homes became wooden huts built on stilts with beautiful brown-skinned babies playing in the red dirt that is their front yard. They would stop briefly from constructing mud pies to wave at our bus, full of white faces staring out, as we crawled by. And crawling we were- the journey on the Cambodian side was brutal. Every time a car, truck or bus passed our pokey vehicle a storm of red dirt would come pouring into our open windows. And closing the windows was not an option because there was no AC or fan to stir the thick air and cool off our bodies crammed into this bus from hell.

The land here is extremely flat and rice paddies stretch across the landscape for as far as you can see. As the sun went down and it’s purple light turned to black hundreds of blue florescent lights were came on illuminating the side of our treacherous road. I thought they might be for the drivers but was then informed that they were actually cricket catchers- roasted cricket is a popular snack among Cambodians- as well as tarantulas, beetles and snails. At the bus stops women carrying trays full of cooked tarantulas try and hustle their snack sold by the kilo. You could buy yourself a very filling kilo for about 25 cents- Tempting- but surprisingly I declined.

We crept into Siem Reap late at night and again I was shocked having come from a completely rural environment to the towering 5 star hotels that were suddenly my view. I can’t imagine coming to Cambodia, an immensely poor country, and spend $1200 a night on a hotel room… my room cost $4 per night.

Siem Reap is a major tourist destination because of all the ancient temples that surround the small town. I spent an exhausting day wandering through some of the favorites; Angkor Wat, Bayon, Preah Kahn… trying to imagine what life was like when people actually lived in these amazing stone palaces. It’s incredible that people are still allowed to explore these temples because many of them are crumbling pretty badly. In many places the jungle has simply taken over the temple, reclaiming its territory, as massive trees and roots grow directly out of the ruins. However, the heaps of fallen rocks and debris definitely added to the whole Indiana Jones ambiance. I kept imagining some tribal guys jumping out from one of the many dark corridors taking me into a secret room beneath the temple lit by torches and ripping my still beating heart out of my chest! Ummm not really- but it was still fun to imagine.

I’m not sure how people spend several days at the temples. After 2 or 3 different ruins they all started looking the same to me and in 90+ degree weather I couldn’t imagine doing more than what I did. Ironically, my favorite part of the day ended up not even being at a temple. I found a small village near one of the temples where all the monks live and hung out with them trying to piece together Buddhism from their broken English. Kind, humble and very welcoming- their village is only a stones throw away from the popular Bayon temple and yet they said tourists rarely ever come to talk with them. I think people sometimes feel intimidated by monks. Like I said in Thailand they seem so pure, so other-worldly but in reality most of them are just kind young men who want to be monks for a few years and then leave and get married. They even asked if I had a boyfriend!?! Behind the saffron robes, pious existence and shaved heads they are still just men…

Thailand- Phuket and Ko Phi Phi

Phuket was my first Thailand destination after leaving Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and it turned out to be a crash course to all the craziness Thailand has to offer. Ladyboys, bar girls, gross old farangs (westerners) hunting the saucy Thai girls…madness. The beaches were a huge disappointment lined with tourists lounging, not on the nice sand, but in beach chairs that occupy every inch of the beach… and you couldn’t walk more than 2 steps without someone harassing you into buying a souvenir priced about 3 times what it should have cost.
I had been warned that Phuket wasn’t the place for Thai culture but it was still amusing going out at night and watching all the revolting lewdness. I can’t remember a time when I laughed harder as I watched the sweaty old men try to pick up the beautiful bar girls and was speechless at how stunning most of the Ladyboys (transvestites) were. All I kept thinking was how bad I felt for the men on holiday- looking for a little fun- because some of these boys had had the full operation and are very, very convincing as women. You would all be shocked!

Two days was more than enough of Phuket and I hopped on the ferry out to Ko Phi Phi, the island where the movie “The Beach” was filmed, in search of the paradise portrayed in the movie. Phi Phi did not disappoint. Crystal clear water, white sand beaches and practically no one else around. I got to go diving at two world-class sites and saw tons of gorgeous coral, schools of tropical fish, moray eels, barracuda and even a sea turtle.

The nightlife was really fun here too with brilliant fire shows every night and crazy, reckless dancing on the beach- a result of lots of Chang beer… very good times. Needless to say I didn’t want to leave and what was suppose to be 3 quick days turned suddenly into an 8 day jaunt before I had to drag myself onto the ferry back to the main land.

Railay beach was my next stop where I spent the next couple of days doing some extreme rock climbing and kayaking around the gorgeous limestone rock formations that line the coast.

Then off to Bangkok to take in some of the sites including a giant, golden reclining Buddha, getting hopelessly lost in one of their swanky malls (where I couldn’t afford anything) and taking a little adventure to a traditional floating market.

It was here in Bangkok where I got my first glimpse of Buddhist monks and couldn’t help but stare at the peaceful men in bright orange robes as they went about their daily lives. Every morning at like 6AM they walk the streets and people bring them gifts, offerings that they tuck into a pouch under their robes, and then hurry back to their temples. Seeing these men, so content, so at ease, walking barefoot through all the madness that is Bangkok was such a beautiful thing. They seem so other worldly- like they are on a higher plane of existence- like they know the secret to happiness. Simplicity? Maybe…

Singapore and Malaysia

After battling mud, leeches and other creepy crawly things in the wild jungles of Indonesia stepping onto the spotless streets of Singapore was a welcomed change. Singapore is quite possibly the cleanest city I have ever had the pleasure of visiting although much to my dismay I saw a person litter despite their strict laws.

The few days I spent here I basically just wandered around taking in the sites and observing a mix of Asian cultures go about their daily lives. The hostel I stayed at was in Little India and just around the corner from the famous Buddhist temple Kwan Im Thong. It was really interesting watching people of all ages stream in and out of the temple at a rather frantic pace praying so intensely and openly, offering gifts of burning incense and flowers to their Gods. I really love the open proud presence of religion here. People of all ages aren’t afraid of worshiping in the public and can’t seem to resist walking by a statue of chubby Buddha without rubbing his belly, earlobe or baldhead for good luck.

After Singapore I headed north to Malaysia and to it’s beautiful Tioman Island on the east. I stayed on the Salang beach and soaked up a few days lounging around in the turquoise water, lying on its soft white sand and watching the huge Monitor lizards swimming in the lagoon behind my bungalow. They are a very interesting lizard because they look like kimono dragons, swim like alligators and have snake-like tongues. I also went diving down to a huge shipwreck here and swam with schools of yellow striped snappers. Every evening I played beach volleyball with the local boys before drinks at the bar and maybe a puff of strawberry flavored tobacco on the shisha pipe.

Then it was off to Malaka on the west with is beautiful Portuguese town center, ugly boatless harbor and bright beautiful rigshaws. I went out of my way attempting to make an effort to learn about real Malay culture by visiting a “living museum”- a traditional Malay home whose residents give tours- but unfortunately my experience was ruined when the dirty old owner asked me to take a photo with him and proceeded to grab my right breast. I naturally backhanded him off his little wooden stool leaving him shocked lying on the floor pathetically apologizing claiming it was an accident. It’s not an accident if you squeeze- jerk! So a warning to any female traveler headed alone to Villa Sentosa…

On a brighter note the best part of Melaka was their weekend night market that fills the streets of Chinatown with vendors selling anything from magic wallets to giant pet scorpions. The whole street was glowing with lanterns and strings of lights while the air was filled with a mix of aromas from all the food vendors. While meandering down the small streets I was fortunate enough to witness the biggest karaoke stage I’ve ever laid eyes and watch the locals get serenaded by an old man singing Elvis’ “Can’t Help Falling in Love With You” in Chinese except for the chorus. But the most memorable highlight was witnessing the “Pointer Finger Kung Fu Master” in action as he broke through a coconut using only his index finger- A mangled, fat little digit which I think he dislocated/broke in the process because I saw him pop it back into place after although he claimed it was his special healing oil- which of course was in ample supply for sale- that cured him.

After Melaka is was off to Kuala Lumpur with its interesting buildings and relatively hassle free inhabitants. I took a ride to the top of the Menara Kuala Lumpur- the fourth tallest telecommunication tower in the world (421 meters)- and got some great panoramic views of the city as a wicked thunderstorm rolled in. I also visited the nearby Batu Caves where a huge gold statue of Buddha guards a temple at the top of 274 steps in the belly of the limestone cave.

Before heading off to Thailand I sought refuge from the stifling heat in the Cameron Highlands and did some more jungle trekking and visited the well-known Boh tea plantation.

I guess my biggest impression I took away from both Singapore and Malaysia is that neither place had a real identity. They were such a mix of Indonesian, Chinese, Malay and Indian it was hard to detect a distinguishing culture. With that being said it was remarkable how well they all mesh and seem to co-exist without any major conflicts. It’s amazing how some places can find that balance with such conflicting cultures and religions and others who only vary slightly from one another have such a raw hatred towards their neighbors.