Ahoy Hanoi!

The End

2011-08-29T09:58:00.000-07:00

As all my loyal readers know, I started this blog for my mom. I thought it would be easiest for her to know what I was up to if I posted a day-to-day account of my life when I left America. My mom's a mom and mom's worry. We all know that. The blog was meant for her to ease her nerves while enjoying my adventure. The fact that 75,860 unique visitors from 170 countries/territories started to read my blog just became a bonus and some extra writing motivation over the last few years.

Instead of going out with a bang, I'm sad to say that Ahoy Hanoi has fizzled to say the least. After writing nearly a blog a day for three years, I've written less than one a week since coming home. And well, I'm sorry about that. The truth is though, it's my mom's fault. Yup, that's right, I'm blaming my mom. Now that I'm living back home, my number one reader gets her Ahoy Hanoi updates straight from the blogger's mouth. Okay, it's not totally my mom's fault. Just like 96%.

I've thought for a while about how I wanted to end my blog. I thought about writing a giant thank you list like I did two years ago when I first left Vietnam on May 8, 2009. But I've already done that and truthfully, most of the people I would be thanking would be the same people I've already thanked. I thought about doing one final video of all my time abroad but I'm pretty sure most of my readers are over my videos.

Instead, I want to try and give the moral to my story as I see it.

In 2007 I wasn't happy. Frankly, I was probably depressed. My life wasn't where I wanted it to be. I had moved to LA to become a writer and I had failed miserably at that. I was working on a reality TV show that I hated and felt like I was wasting away, spending long days in a dark edit suite. On the relationship front, well, there was no front. I hadn't had a meaningful long term relationship in about seven years and didn't have any prospects on the horizon. To top everything off, I was living far from my family and my closest friends. Yeah, things weren't great.

I'm not exactly sure when I first got the idea to drop everything and move to Vietnam. Regardless of when it happened, it sparked something inside of me. I've always been a person who does what he says. Once I verbalized that I was moving to Vietnam there was no stopping me. I sold all of my things including my car and furniture. I donated a ton of clothing to the Salvation Army and then packed up all my stuff. I had whittled down my possessions to so little that I was able to get it all back to the East Coast by having three friends and my sister take home an extra suitcase for me when they flew back for the holidays. Truly, I was starting with a blank slate.

When I flew out of JFK on February 2nd, 2008 I had no idea what to expect. Even as a writer, I couldn't have imagined the stories and experiences I would have over the next three and a half years. At some point recently, I realized that I had spent more time in Vietnam than I did in Syracuse, my alma matter. That realization hit a chord in me. Vietnam was truly like a second education for me; it was my graduate school for life.

When I left LA, I had failed as a writer. When I returned to America I had written over 1,200 blog entries AND had a screenplay optioned for an original family comedy script I wrote. I had never had a script optioned in LA, yet had one optioned while living on the other side of the world. The script presently has a director attached to it and the production company is paying me to do a rewrite and a polish on it. This isn't even close to being a big deal in Hollywood, but it's a big deal to me. On top of that, Huyen and I went to LA for three weeks last month where I had a bunch of meetings. Hopefully the writing career will continue to move forward...but if it doesn't, so what. There's other things in life that are more important. I can honestly say that one day teaching at the school Huyen and I started was more rewarding than any paycheck I ever earned.

When I left LA, I was single. Well, obviously that's not the case anymore. Everyone knows my love story. Most of you feel like you know it too well. For those of you who somehow stumble on to this blog, here's the jist of it: During the first week I was living in Hanoi, I met the love of my life. Huyen has changed my life for the better and, just from two months in America, I can already see her changing my family for the better too. No matter how long I live, I'll always be thankful for meeting Huyen.

When I left LA, I was living far away from my family and closest friends. Logically one would think that moving to Vietnam wouldn't solve that problem but somehow it did. Not only was I welcomed with open arms into Huyen's amazing family but I also made some great new friends. Upon leaving Vietnam, I thought we would have to make a tough decision on where to live in the USA. It would be easier for both Huyen and me to find work in California (besides Hollywood, there's a huge Vietnamese population in California that Huyen could have networked with). However, there was no decision to be made. Huyen laid down the law and said we were gonna move to NJ/NY so we could be close to our family.

So what's the moral of my story? Well, it's simple: Live life.

It's so easy to get stuck in the daily pattern of life. Well, sometimes we need to change things up and just go for it. Moving to Vietnam was the best decision of my life. There's no doubt about that. However, one doesn't have to do something so drastic. If you hate your job, quit it. Things will work out. If you're miserable in your relationship, end it. Things will work out. If there's a girl or boy you like but are scared to ask out, go for it! What's the worst that can happen? If you wish you could spend more time with your family, do it! Don't talk about it. Do it! Live life!

With that, Ahoy Hanoi has come to an end. However, don't fret. From time to time I might post some epilogues. For example, Huyen and I are planning on going to Hanoi next February for Tet. I'm sure there will be lots of fun stories to write about after nearly a year away.

And for those of you who like Huyen more than me (which is probably everyone who has met her), get ready for some great news -- Huyen is starting her own blog. Check it out: Photastic USA!!!

My Grandma

2011-08-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: My family -- Grandma is in the middle, as always.)

While we were traveling in India, my Grandma Cele's health started to deteriorate. Huyen and I immediately tried to change our flight home but the cost was astronomical. We called my grandmother a few times every week and constantly checked in with my parents to see how she was doing. With about twelve days left to travel, her health got a little bit worse. Huyen and I quickly called the airlines and once again tried to change our flights. This time the cost was reasonable so we booked it and canceled the rest of our travel plans. We ended up landing in the USA ten days earlier than we had planned and drove right to see my grandma. Well, thank god we did. My grandma was very weak when we arrived but she was lucid and able to communicate with us. She got to meet Huyen and talked to her whenever she had strength. The two of them held hands and constantly exchanged kisses on the cheeks. Right around the time we were supposed to land home, my grandmother's health declined even further. She passed away two days after we were supposed to come back.

There's no good way to die, but my Grandma did it right. She had a great life and passed away with almost her whole family by her side, holding her, as she took her last breaths. It was sad but also beautiful at the same time.

At her funeral, I spoke for my siblings. Here's the eulogy I gave:

GRANDMA'S EULOGY:

I want to start off by apologizing to Grandma for three things. First, Grandma, I’m sorry for throwing Zev off the bed in 1983 when you were babysitting us. Sure, I meant to teach Zev a lesson not to mess with his little brother, but I didn’t mean for him to have to go to the hospital to get stitches. I know you had a little anger bottled up towards me over the years so I just wanted to say sorry.

Secondly, I’m sorry if there’s any incorrect grammar in this speech. Growing up, if I said, something with incorrect grammar, Grandma would strain her eyes and pretend like she couldn’t hear me. For example, if I said, “Grandma, Zev and me were wrestling on the bed and...” Grandma would stop me and say, “Who was wrestling?”. I’d say, “Zev and me”. Grandma would say “Who?” again and again until I’d caught on and said, “Zev and I were wrestling on the bed and I pushed him off and he hit his face and he’s bleeding a lot.”

My grammar was so bad that Grandma had to pretend to be hard of hearing so many times that I’m pretty sure I’m responsible for her actually going hard of hearing.

Thirdly, Grandma, I want to apologize that this speech is gonna be more than thirty seconds. I know you liked to keep everything short and sweet and well, this speech is a gonna be a little bit long.

When Grandpa Leo was alive, if you called over to my grandparents’ house, Grandma would pick up the phone, talk to you for ten seconds and then pass the phone to Grandpa who would talk to you for roughly twenty five minutes to around three and a half hours. After Grandpa Leo passed away, here was a typical phone call with Grandma:

Ring. Ring. Ring. Grandma picks up.

GRANDMA: Hello?

ME: Hi, Grandma!

GRANDMA: Oh, hi Justin.

ME: No, it’s Ben, Grandma.

GRANDMA: Oh, hi Ben. What’s new?

ME: Well, A, B and C are new.

GRANDMA: So, when are you coming home?

ME: I’ll be home in a month.

GRANDMA: That’s too long.

BEN: Well, I’ve got midterms.

GRANDMA: Well, okay. Goodbye.

ME: Wait, uh, Grandma. I lo--CLICK.

I swear, I didn’t get my first full “I love you” out until I was in my thirties.

But that was Grandma’s way. For Grandma, actions always spoke louder than words. Grandma didn’t need to tell us that she loved us. The proof was in the pudding. Or really, the proof was in the chocolate squares, the apple crisp, the strawberry cheesecake, the fruit mondolas, the chocolate chip cookies, the oatmeal/raisin cookies and about 2,867 other sweets that all of us grandkids will think about fondly the rest of our lives as we’re dealing with diabetes. Frankly, we all knew Grandma loved us because she wanted more of us – thirty to fifty pounds more of us.

But Grandma didn’t just cook. She could eat with the best of them too. Grandma always finished everything on her plate…even her second and third plates. Whenever everyone comes over to our house, we usually do buffet style. Whenever I’d get Grandma a plate I ‘d ask her what she wanted. Her response was always the same, “Everything.”

Zev was saying to me the other day how Grandma would eat a full rack of ribs, with two sides, at Dinosaur Bar-B-Que when she visited us in Syracuse. Let me just tell you that a full rack of ribs with two sides even makes my dad full. And well, my dad weighs a little bit more than Grandma did. But Grandma, as always, would clean her plate.

Besides in the kitchen or the dining room, I always think of my Grandma at Temple Beth Shalom. If you’re a temple member, you knew exactly where to find my Grandmother on high holidays. She’d be on the right side, about five rows back and would have a wall of protective siddurim around her, saving seats for her family members who didn’t want to show up to temple at 3:30AM.

I just want to be clear about something though, Grandma was a proud Jew, but I know she only went to temple at the crack of dawn so that us grandkids could have the furthest walk possible through the crowd so that every temple member could see who her grandkids were. And just in case people weren’t absolutely sure who her grandkids were, she then introduced us to every person over the age of 40 who was within seven rows of us even though she had introduced us on every Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur since we were able to walk.

On a side note, being at temple with Grandma on Yom Kippur was the only time us grandkids were ever with her when we were hungry. In fact, I’m absolutely certain that nobody had a harder fast than us because our stomachs had been trained to expand whenever we were within sixty feet of Grandma.

Us grandkids are so fortunate to have grown up so close to Grandma and Grandpa. Throughout our childhoods, they were at every event we participated in. Whenever we’d finish playing a sport, or finish up a concert or a play, Grandma and Grandpa would be there, beaming with pride. We’d always be greeted after our event with a “How about that” from Grandpa and a smile and kiss from Grandma.

I know that all of us are gonna miss Grandma. But nobody is gonna miss Grandma more than my mom, who not only lost her mother but also her best friend. With Grandma, actions always spoke louder than words. And well, my mom did every action there was for Grandma. She took her to the beauty parlor to get her hair done and to salons for manicures. She took her grocery shopping and to doctor’s appointments and anywhere else my grandmother wanted to go. Sure my mother takes after my grandpa in that she can talk A LOT, but her actions were always those of an angel. My mom is an amazing person and I know my grandmother loved and appreciated her with every bone in her body.

Like I said before, Grandma used to hang up the phone before she said I love you. In fact, until the last couple of years she never said I love you to me – although in retrospect maybe I’m the only one she didn’t say I love you to since I threw Zev off the bed.

Anyway, I know she loved her whole family and in the last days of her life, she couldn’t stop saying “I love you” to all of us. She loved my mom and she loved Barry. She loved my dad and she loved Donna. She loved Adam, Justin and Dana and she loved Zev, Hannah and myself. She loved Kathy and Rachel and she loved Huyen, who she liked to talk to on the phone more than me and who she got to meet in the last week of her life and smothered with kisses. And of course Grandma loved Lilah and she loved Max. And she loved Linda, who took such great care of her over the last couple of years.

Us August and Zucker kids are so lucky to have known all of our grandparents. My Grandfather Macky died eighteen years ago and my Grandpa Leo died 10 years ago and I still think about them all the time. Just as I know Adam, Justin and Dana think about Grandpa Leo and their Grandpa Harry.

As I lay in bed two nights ago, just as I did after Grandpa Leo died, I could picture the scene up in heaven between all of them. Grandma arrives and is greeted by Grandpa Leo, Grandpa Macky, Grandpa Harry and all of Grandma’s sisters and brothers and parents. Grandpa Leo greets Grandma with a big hug and kiss and says, “How about that. Cele, you lived to 94. What were you trying to show off?” And Grandma smiles at Grandpa and everyone else and says, “Is anyone hungry?” And Grandpa Leo says, “Of course. But first let me finish explaining to Max and Harry how to properly plant a hydrangea.” And then Macky quickly gets a word in and says, “Cele, maybe you should start cooking. Leo’s been explaining this since 2001.” And then Grandma heads off to the kitchen and starts to prepare a brisket and an apple crisp. And well, lets just say everyone up in heaven is about to get a little bit fatter.

We love you Grandma.

Goodbye, India

2011-08-19T07:29:00.000-07:00

I've been in the worst blog writing slump since I started Ahoy Hanoi. There's basically two reasons for this:

1. Huyen and I arrived in America and have been running around like crazy.

2. I think I'm sad to end the blog and know it's about time. It's sort of like dragging out the end of a relationship that has lost its fizzle.

I've had more than a few readers yell at me recently that I need to wrap up India and get on with the blog. Well, I'm a man of the people so here's a goodbye to India video:

India is an intriguing place. There's no arguing that. However, it's hard for me to make generalizations about the country because we only visited a small percentage of it. There was so much to like but also so much to despise. I loved the history. I hated the way the people treated us. I loved the energy of the cities. I hated the vile litter and filthy streets. I loved the colors and the scents. I hated the scams and the lying.

Our first friend

2011-08-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

In the past, whenever I've traveled I've made some friends. When you travel alone or with a friend, it's very easy to meet new people. When you travel with your wife, it's not as easy. For one, we were generally on the backpacker path in which couples are at a minimum and married couples seemed to be almost non existent. Secondly, you usually end up making friends at night when drinking at bars. In India, there just weren't that many bars and well, Huyen and I rarely drink. Those two things combined meant that Huyen and I had another month of basically just each others' company. Yes, I know, Huyen is a lucky woman.

On the bus to Agra we met our first friend -- Nate.

In a case of it being a very small world, Nate taught English in the Mekong Delta in Vietnam. This obviously gave us an immediate thing to talk about. When we arrived in Agra we shared a rickshaw and ended up at the same hotel (Nate, being a way better backpacker got a way better rate on his room then we did). Over the next couple of days we ate and toured with Nate who turned out to be a very cool guy despite the handlebar mustache.

More of Agra...

2011-08-01T06:13:00.001-07:00

Most people only think of the Taj when they think of Agra. However, there's actually a ton of other cool sites like the Red Fort and Baby Taj.

To me, the Red Fort is really interesting because the rich dude who paid for the Taj was actually overthrown by his son and imprisoned in the Red Fort. He spent the last years of his life staring at the Taj with this view:

(PICTURE: The Taj is out there somewhere.)

There were two common themes among all the sites:

1. We would inevitably be harassed by freelance tour guides as soon as we set foot near the site. The guides would grow increasingly angry at us when we told them we didn't need a guide. We had our travel book which gave a brief history, and frankly that's all I could really retain after seeing so many sites.

2. The ticket agents would try and scam the site. They had this little scam going where they would take your new ticket and then give you back an old ticket someone had put into a special "return ticket" box. The scam is so simple and brilliant. Basically the ticket agents would take our new tickets and return them to the cashier for money. It doesn't affect tourists (unless you want to keep your ticket as a souvenir). Instead, it just rips off the Indian government.

Here's some other pictures from sites...

The Taj

2011-07-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

The Taj Mahal was impressive. I'll let the pictures do the talking on this blog entry:

Laughing Yoga

2011-07-29T07:15:00.000-07:00

My friend Kevin Rodin (also known as Huyen's new swim teacher) told me that he and his wife Beth tried to go to laughing yoga in Kolkata. I was intrigued by the idea of laughing yoga and asked someone in Kolkata about it. This one guy told me how it was very healthy to laugh and that since Indian people don't laugh much, it was good to make oneself laugh in yoga class. When he told us this, my first thought was, "Indian people don't laugh a lot?". After he said that I started to notice that indeed, people didn't seem to laugh as much in India as in other places I've been. For example in Vietnam, everyone always seems to be laughing (except when they're stone faced on their motorbikes).

In Kolkata, we tried to find the laughing yoga and failed miserably for two hours. Perhaps the laughing yogis were watching us search for them and this inspired their laughing. Well, in Varanasi we signed up for regular yoga and it turned out to be a laughing yoga class. The guru was the weirdest dude I've met in a long time. Besides his dyed purple hair, he just had this comical look to match his big belly. I found myself giggling because all around his yoga studio were pictures of him featured in newspapers around the world. The pictures were clearly from a few years earlier when he was a tad bit trimmer. Anyway, he started to lead us in laughing yoga which was actually a lot of fun. We did thing like making funny faces and forcing ourselves to laugh. It wasn't too hard to make ourselves laugh though because everyone looked utterly ridiculous, especially the guru.

Just as we started to feel good and relaxed, a joke was played on us -- the guru said he had to go and had his assistant take over the class. His assistant, a girl, looked like she hadn't laughed since, well ever. She had the most serious look on her face and started to instruct us like a drill sergeant. Needless to say, there were no more laughs the rest of the class.

Our Cyclo Driver

2011-07-24T03:00:00.000-07:00

If you ever go to Khajuraho, keep your eye out for this guy. Without a doubt, he was the most honest driver (taxi/cyclo/rickshaw) we had in India. On our way into Khajuraho he rode us around through the town and showed us about ten different hotels. On our way out of Khajuraho, he picked us up at our hotel (on time) and took us to the bus station. He then proceeded to just hang out with us for forty five minutes as we waited for the bus.

The guy was very open about his life and told us how it was a "miracle" how tourists came to his city in the middle of nowhere. I liked his attitude because he treated tourists as people to be respected and thankful for. Frankly, this is how I think people should always treat tourists who come from far away to see another land and culture. Personally, whenever I meet a tourist (which has happened a few times since returning to the states) I try and be as friendly to them as possible as I think it is pretty cool that they chose to come to our country and spend their money and time here.

Anyway, the point of this blog is that this guy was pretty cool and if you go to Khajuraho you should hire him. I can pretty much guarantee he'll be waiting by the bus stand.

Walk like an Egyptian...

2011-07-23T03:00:00.000-07:00

One of our more bizarre interactions in Khajuraho was when we visited the most famous temple. Standing guard at the doorway of the temple was this guy:

(PICTURE: Me with the security guard.)

While Huyen and I were inspecting the carvings, the security guard came over to us with a huge smile and started to explain what everything meant. The guy was trying so hard to summarize thousands of years of Hinduism into just a few minutes which is obviously not an easy task. To make matters worse, his English was quite poor. However, what he lacked in communication skills he made up with gusto.

While he was telling us about Shiva and the other Hindu gods, he kept looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was stealing the relics he was supposed to be protecting. After he finished giving us his mini tour, he insisted that Huyen and I take pictures with the same poses as in many of the sculptures. Heck, we're always down for some funny pictures so we took these:

The area we are standing on is the same place that dancers and performers would entertain the king hundreds of years ago. On this day though, the only person really being entertained was the security guard.

Biking

2011-07-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Ride like the wind, Huyen. Ride like the wind.)

Let me tell you one of my secrets for traveling: no matter where you are, it's always more fun to have your own two wheels. Huyen and I have rented bikes in Thailand, Myanmar and India. Whenever we do, it always ends up being one of our favorite experiences. In Khajuraho, we would wake up at about 5AM and bike around so that we could avoid the heat. Having your own wheels allows you to:
1. Avoid all the rickshaws and cyclos who harass you for your business.
2. Gets you off the beaten path.

With our bikes, Huyen and I went to some of the furthest temples in Khajuraho where nobody else was out. We were also able to bike into an old village and meander through alleys and back roads.

I was especially happy with my bike in Khajuraho because it was basically personalized:

*They had no helmets in this city. Thankfully there was very little traffic and decent roads so we didn't have any issues. When we asked for helmets we basically got laughed at since it was like 118 degrees.

Yoga

2011-07-21T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: My wife, the yoga guru.)

Take a deep breath everyone as I'm about to write something that might offend. Here goes: Yoga, as we know it, is a scam. Don't believe anyone who tells you that yoga is an Indian thing. No, yoga is a western invention, no ifs ands or buts. Sure it might have started in India but the yoga we know (and pay lots of money for) is completely westernized. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with yoga. I thin it's a great form of exercise that really shapes your body. However, for those who go to India to practice, save your cash. What you'll find in India are:
1. Gurus who are no better than your average white chic with an "om" tattoo on her back.
2. Generally gurus who come from the west. We went to one of the most famous ashrams in India and not only was everyone in the class a westerner, but the guru was from NJ.

Huyen and I rarely ever saw any Indian people actually doing yoga. One morning we went to a park where we heard there was "laughing yoga." We walked the whole park and didn't see anyone doing anything more than some neck rolls. By far our worst experience though was in Khajuraho. We had specifically stayed at the Yogi Lodge because it included free yoga every morning. Well on the first morning we asked about the yoga and the owner seemed a little bit caught off guard. He told us we could do it at his other guest house which was a ten minute bike ride away. When we showed up, we were taken upstairs and proceeded to do yoga on a concrete floor. Actually, technically we didn't do it on the floor; we did it on a FILTHY thin carpet that the yoga "instructor" rolled out. This carpet was out of a movie. If you stomped on it, dust flew up. The worst part though was the instructor. We told him right off that we were beginners, yet within five minutes he was asking us to do pretzels. We literally looked at him and laughed. He would then put his legs behind his head and tell us to do what he was doing. We then laughed again. He then would ask how much yoga instructors get paid in America. After digesting this, he asked us for a donation. A donation? For what? Clearly, for him. We told him that the yoga was included with the guest house and he said he knew that but that we should give him "a present." This time we awkwardly laughed and then got the hell out of there.

Khajuraho

2011-07-20T04:24:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Huyen in front of a temple.)

I've been getting a lot of slack from people for my lack of blogging. And well, I deserve it. I'm gonna try and get back on pace and finish up the India blogs and then put a nice pink bow around Ahoy Hanoi. After that, you can all get your daily fix from the blog Huyen is going to start up.

I think the lack of blogging has been twofold: 1. I'm home now and spending a lot of time with family and friends. 2. I'm honestly just not that excited to write about India. Sometimes trips take a little while to digest and process (the opposite of Indian food) and this was one of them. So, I'm gonna attempt to breeze through India with some more general blog posts.

After going to Varanasi, we headed to Khajuraho. Getting there, as always, was an adventure. We had to take a long train, stay overnight in a very sketchy town where everyone and their mother offered to drive us to Khajuraho for about 10x's the bus fare, and then take an early morning direct bus which stopped 3,974 times including an hour along a mountain pass which wasn't wide enough for two buses/trucks to go through.

We finally got to Khajuraho which was the HOTTEST place we visited in India. I mean, it was freaking HOT! It was the off season and we had the pick of whichever hotel we wanted. We had a bicycle cyclo guy drive us from place to place to get different rates. We finally ended up going to the one we thought we'd go to since it had free yoga in the morning. It wasn't the nicest place but for $4 a night you can't really complain.

The next day we rented bicycles and rode around all of the temples with the famous karma sutra carvings:

Looking at the carvings one can't help but be impressed. I mean, how flexible are Indians?

Seriously though, doesn't this explain why the population is the fastest growing in the world?

Photos of People

2011-07-12T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: One of my favorite shots I took in India.)

In Varanasi, I took a lot of interesting photos of people. Here's some of my favorites that I haven't posted on other entries:

Sleeping On Roofs

2011-07-11T03:00:00.000-07:00

Everywhere we went, people would sleep on roofs at night. In Varanasi though, we definitely saw the largest clusters of people sleeping together on the roofs:

(PICTURE: Natural AC.)

The only problem with sleeping on a roof is that it exposes you to the elements. You know, like rain or monkeys. Yes, monkeys. In Agra, we saw a family sleeping on a roof. About two minutes after I took this picture...

...a monkey came along and scratched the shirtless boy:

The father wasn't too happy and threw a rock at the monkey:

Sunrise Over The Ganges

2011-07-10T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Sunrise over the Ganges.)

We had actually booked our guest house because it said online that they had a free boat cruise at sunset every morning. Naturally this turned out not to be true. However, we agreed to pay the money and were told to be ready at 5AM the next morning. We were up at 5AM but nobody came to pick us up. Finally I managed to wake up the guest house owner who had booked the trip for us and he took us down to the ghats where we met the guys who supposedly were supposed to pick us up at 5AM. Anyway, we got down to the river just as the sun was peaking up over the horizon.

It was absolutely beautiful and amazing to see how much activity goes on around the river every morning.

Washing Clothes

2011-07-09T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Getting some stains out.)

Huyen and I had our clothes washed in Varanasi. That was before we found out where most people wash their clothes:

(PICTURE: Men doing the laundry.)

Luckily we were told that our laundry was washed in a machine. However, the place air dried our clothes in the kitchen which meant they came back smelling like curry.

The Ganges

2011-07-08T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A man praying in the Ganges.)

From Lonely Planet: The River Ganges provides millions of Indians with an important link to their spirituality. Every day about 60,000 people go down to the Varanasi ghats to take a holy dip along a 7km stretch of the river. Along this same area, 30 large sewers are continuously discharging into the river.

The Ganges River is so heavily polluted at Varanasi that the water is septic - no dissolved oxygen exists. The statistics get worse. Samples from the river show the water has 1.5 million faecal coliform bacteria per 100mL of water. In water that is safe for bathing this figure should be less than 500!

Huyen and I saw people drinking from the Ganges. DRINKING! I mean it's one thing to bathe in shit but to drink it. Ohhhhh man...

(PICTURE: A swim class. Notice the instructor has a tube for himself.)

(PICTURE: People taking a morning bath.)

(PICTURE: A happy bather.)

Cricket

2011-07-07T06:00:00.000-07:00

Indians love their cricket. Seemingly every open space we saw around the country was occupied by kids playing cricket, also known as "the sport I know next to nothing about." Here's some pictures from Varanasi of kids playing next to a ghat:

(PICTURE: Huyen was the umpire.)

(PICTURE: Swing and a miss...like me in baseball.)

Masks

2011-07-04T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Wearing masks on the street.)

One thing you immediately notice in India is that the air is not very clean. Huyen almost immediately wore her Vietnamese style nose and mouth mask to protect herself from the elements. I was a little more hesitant because I just feel a little weird walking around wearing a mask when nobody else has one on. Within twenty four hours of arriving, both of our eyes and throats felt very irritated. Within forty eight hours, I had started to develop a little bit of a cough. I then turned to the back of Lonely Planet and read, "Around 25% of travelers to India will develop a respiratory infection. This usually starts as a virus and is exacerbated by environment conditions...". Well, after reading that, I put aside my self consciousness and began to wear a mask almost all of the time when we were on the street.

One of the added side benefits of wearing a mask was that less people came up to us, trying to sell us stuff or scam us. Occasionally I would forget the mask and we could really see a difference on how many people would approach us. So, I guess a tip I would give to people is that if you pretend to have an infectious disease, you might enjoy your trip a little bit more.

Suggestion #2

2011-07-03T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The Nandan Complex is near the South Gate of the Victoria Monument. FYI.)

As I mentioned yesterday, my friend Jessica's friend in Kolkata sent Huyen and I some suggestions. The second thing he suggested to us was to "check out a show at the Nandan Complex."

The Nandan Complex is a state-run cultural center that has music, theater and movies. It was hot as hell out so we thought checking out a Bengali movie would be a great way to spend a couple of hours. We got directions to the place and started to walk there. I'll save all the details but it took about three times as long as we were told and had such fun adventures as two naked three-year-old boys trying to climb up my leg to take my bottle of water.

Eventually we got to the Nandan Complex and were surprised how crowded it was. People were everywhere including a hell of a lot of ARMED MILITARY GUYS. Huyen and I smiled at the security forces and walked into the center. One thing we immediately noticed was that everyone was wearing white and carrying flowers. Even stranger was that there were a ton of cameras (still and video) and very good looking people. The Hollywood in me immediately came out and I said confidently to Huyen, "They must be having a movie premiere."

So, Huyen and I walked through the well dressed, good looking people trying to find the box office. After stepping into the main hall we encountered something you usually don't see at a movie theater -- a DEAD BODY!

No, the person hadn't just been killed -- although that's always a possibility in India -- but rather was the the man-of-honor at his own funeral. Huyen and I were about a foot from the deceased, who was covered in flowers, and then started to notice that a lot of people were staring at us. I nearly said to probably some A-list Bollywood star, "Do you know I can buy movie tickets?" but managed to restrain myself. Instead I gave Huyen a lets-get-the-hell-out-of-here-head-jerk and we departed the premises.

Well, I have no idea who died and that's only because I don't speak Hindi. You see, the next morning I turned on the news and there was a story about the funeral. I watched the piece -- not understanding a word -- and kept expecting to see us wandering aimlessly in the background. In fact, one guy who was on TV, gave his interview about a foot from where we were standing.

So long story short, we didn't get to see a movie and sit in AC.

Indian Coffee House

2011-07-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The Indian Coffee House.)

So how did I get my first case of the runs? Well, I'm not 100% sure but it was either from:

a) A cup of coffee at the legendary Indian Coffee House.
b) A meal from a local restaurant some guy suggested.
c) From a street side coconut I ate. Lets just say the guy cutting it open didn't look like he washed his hands since, well, ever.

Anyway, let me briefly talk about A. My friend Jessica (from Hanoi!) used to live in Kolkata and put me in touch with a friend of hers who was still there. Unfortunately her friend was out of town but he sent me an email with some suggestions. One of the suggestions was that we had to go to the coffee house. Well, after doing some sightseeing we started walking to the place. The streets were a little confusing so we asked some college-aged students who were standing on a corner. One of the guys, lets call him ASSHOLE #1, said to us: "Oh, the Indian Coffee House isn't near here. It's like forty minutes away. You need to take a bus." Well, thankfully I know how to read a map and knew ASSHOLE #1 was full of shit. A second clue was probably when he and his friends started to laugh as soon as we had walked about three feet away. I can only pray that one day ASSHOLE #1 will be traveling in the USA and ask for directions and get pointed down a very shady, dark alleyway where he'll meet some guy with a face tattoo named Spike. Anyway, I digress...

Soooo, ignoring our not so helpful advice, we proceeded in the general direction that I thought the coffee house was in (to be clear, we had a very faded map with only large streets on it. We even went to the tourist office the day before and they didn't have a good map for us). After walking for a few more minutes, I asked another person for directions and he started to give it to us in 99% Hindi. Thankfully a really nice guy, lets call him NICE GUY, came up and asked where we wanted to go. Actually, scratch that. NICE GUY's name was Ankit so lets call him by his name and give him the recognition he deserves. So, Ankit spoke nearly perfect English and said he'd walk with us half the way since he was going that way to school. Ankit told me that he used to work for HP as a customer service rep and got to talk to tons of Americans. Heck, I might have even talked to him before on the other end of an 800 number. Anyway, Ankit took us very close to the shop and then bid adieu. Let me just say, it's people like Ankit who make traveling so rewarding. Unfortunately for the first time ever, this trip had too many people like ASSHOLE #1 and not enough Ankits.

After parting with Ankit, we had to walk for just a few more minutes until we came to the coffee house. Here's the LP description of the place: "The mythic Indian Coffee House was once a meeting place of freedom fighters, bohemians and revolutionaries. Today its crusty high ceilings and grimy walls ring with deafening student conversation but despite the dishwater coffee, it’s perversely fascinating."

The coffee house was definitely a cool place to check out and indeed the coffee was crap...and might have given me the runs.

Traveller's Diarrhoea

2011-07-01T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: This cup of HOT coffee was the only water I drank that I wasn't 100% sure about.)

To quote Lonely Planet's medical section:

Traveller's Diarrhoea: This is by far the most common problem affecting travellers in India -- between 30% and 70% of people will suffer from it within two weeks of starting their trip.

First let me say this, is that really a statistic? Between 30% and 70%? I mean, that's the largest percentage range I've ever seen quoted. That said, the numbers were dead on since 50% of our travelling party had horrific diarrhoea on day three. I don't want to embarrass anyone by pointing fingers but lets just say the person with the runs wasn't my wife. Okay, dammit, you figured it out -- I had terrible diarrhoea.

Here's a quick riddle for you: What's worse than having travelling diarrhoea?

Keep thinking...

Keep thinking...

Keep thinking...

ANSWER: Having traveling diarrhoea on a day you that you need to travel.

The morning when I woke up with the squirts (that's putting it lightly since I'd say it was more like a fire house out of my butt) was the day we were going to take a fourteen hour train ride to Varanasi. Yes, I was going to be on an Indian train with the runs. The fearful thought had me ingest Smecta (my Vietnamese stomach savior) and Immodium AD (my lifelong stomach savior) as well as a loaf of white bread. Somehow it worked.

Crossing the street

2011-06-30T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Our first brush with crossing the street/death by vehicle.)

I'd like to think that living in Vietnam has given me some unique skill sets. For example, I'm pretty confident nobody can cross a ridiculously busy street better than me. It's like I've mastered the real life game of Froggert. However, everything I learned about dodging speeding bikes/cars/buses/carts in Vietnam went out the window in Kolkata as it was by far the scariest place ever to cross the street. How scary was it? Well, even my wife was terrified. Heck, she was even more terrified than me. In fact, more than a few times I had to turn back (the cardinal sin when crossing the street) because Huyen had chickened-out and escaped the sweaty grasp of my hand. I'd like to say that after four weeks we mastered crossing the street in India but that just wouldn't be true.

You can take the girl out of Vietnam...

2011-06-29T03:00:00.000-07:00

...but you can't take Vietnam out of the girl:

(PICTURE: Huyen on Ho Chi Minh street.)

First Tastes of India

2011-06-28T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The first restaurant we went to.)

Kolkata was our first chance to taste authentic Indian food and it definitely didn't disappoint. West Bengal is known for its cuisine (especially sweets) so we aimed at only eating at Bengali restaurants.

(PICTURE: Our first dinner.)

Lonely Planet had a few recommendations which we tried over the first couple of days. Like most LP recs, the prices at the restaurant were probably double the cost that the book quoted. This is a common phenomenon with guide books I find. As soon as they write about a great bargain restaurant, it become an okay expensive one!

(PICTURE: This was the first and last seafood I ate in India. Notice, the black and white drawings on the wall. They're sketches by the father of a famous Bollywood director.)

I had read that the food in India was very cheap but our first three meals or so were far from that. In fact, I started to get worried that we didn't budget well enough for the trip. However, once we stopped going to the guide book places and just asked locals for good places to eat, we found the food even better and cheaper. Lonely Planet did have one great call though: Hot Kati Rolls. This thing was like shwarma on crack:

(PICTURE: I'm sweating profusely from the weather, not the spicy goat sandwich in my hand.)

Scams

2011-06-27T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Us at the Victoria Monument. This was scheme #3.)

Going along with yesterday's blog, my biggest complaint in India was that you couldn't go ten feet without someone trying to scam you. You know, entrepreneurs. Here's the first ten scams that come to mind:

1. Fare Scheme. We would often take tuk-tuk's around different places in the cities we were in. Before getting in a tuk-tuk we would agree to a price with a driver. For example in Agra, we wanted to go to two different sites and then back to the hotel. We told the driver exactly where we wanted to go and then came up with a number which was a little higher then how much our guide book said it would be. However, when we eventually came back to the hotel, the driver tried to charge us double because he said he had to wait at the sites. The ironic part about this was I had given the guy a tip and thought I was doing a nice thing...and then he wanted double.

2. I collect money scheme. This one is not unique to India as I've seen it in Vietnam a couple of times. However, it just kept occuring over and over in India. When we were staying in Agra (the scam capital of the world), there was a devoutly dressed Muslim man who worked/owned the hotel we were at. At some point he came up to me with a smile and said, "Hello, I collect money from around the world. Can I show you my collection?". As soon as he said this I knew it was a scam since I'd seen/heard this before. However, I had to wait at the front desk for something which allowed time for the guy to grab his money album. He proceeded to show me some pages and then said, "I don't have any US dollars. Do you have one you can give me for my collection?" Now first off, every traveler has US dollars. Secondly, the hotel has a money exchange for US Dollars. Thirdly, fuck him. I said to the guy, "Yeah, I have US Dollars. The bank exchange rate is 45 Rubies (the hotel was offering 42). I'll tell you what, you give me 45 Rubies and I'll give you a dollar for your collection." Shockingly he didn't go for this deal. I told Huyen about this guy's scam and of course he tried it on her too. She told him that she was from Vietnam and he said, "I have Vietnamese money. Do you have dollars?". She asked to see the Vietnamese money but he didn't show any to her. He then said he'd take Vietnamese Dong but first asked what the exchange rate was from Dong to Dollar.

3. My Daughters Collect Money Scam. This is very similar to #2. While Huyen and I were at the Victoria Monument in Kolkata, a man came up to us and offered to take our picture together. After taking the picture he made small talk which quickly turned into, "I have three daughters. They collect money. Do you have any you can give them?". Nice try.

4. The Freelance Photographer Scam. Sometimes you'll just be taking a picture (similar to #3) and a seemingly nice, well dressed, citizen will come up to you and offer to take your picture and all of a sudden turn into Ansel Adams. For example, in -- yes you guessed it -- Agra, a man offered to take a picture of us. The guy came out of the blue and seemed like a tourist so I thought he was just a nice guy. As soon as the camera was in his hands he started giving us directions: "stand this way", "raise your hand", "show that you love the camera", etc. After he reeled off 100 pictures in 30 seconds, I took back my camera and thanked him. Instead of saying, "You're welcome" he extended his hand and said, "Something for me?".

5. Kidnapping Scam. Okay, we didn't really get kidnapped...only sort of. At the end of our trip, I had a heat rash in a sensitive spot and didn't want to walk very far. Huyen and I wanted to check out a famous shopping area to buy souvenirs for people and started to walk to where we knew it was. However, as we were walking we got bombarded with cyclos and tuk-tuks trying to drive us down the road. I knew that the place was a ten minute walk MAX, but finally succumbed to a tuk-tuk driver (and his tag-a-long-friend) who seemed to be going in that direction and offered to drive us for a quarter. A quarter was worth not irritating my groin. Well, as soon as we got in the tuk-tuk (which he basically shoved me into) the guy pulled a u-turn and went in totally the wrong direction. After a few minutes, I tapped the guy on the arm and said "Where are you going?!" He said, "First we go to the gold market." He then tried to ignore me as I said "no" until I lightly gave him a dead-arm and said stop. The driver stopped and we hopped out. The great news was that we were safe from being kidnapped (and I've read that often people get bullied and strong armed at the gold market). The bad news was that we were now a 45 minute walk from where we wanted to go.

6. The Market Is Closed Scam. This one was written about in Lonely Planet so I was prepared for it. It actually happened right after #5. As we were walking to the market we wanted to go to, a seemingly nice citizen came up to us and asked where we were going. At this point we were pretty close to the shopping area again so it was clear we were walking there. We told the guy where we wanted to go and he said, "Oh, that's impossible. They're doing construction on that bazaar now." I looked at the guy and said, "Really?". He said, "Yeah, it's closed for a few months. But there's a great market right around the corner. Want me to show it to you?". Clearly being scammed, I said that we would just go to the bazaar and see for ourselves. This guy immediately got annoyed and started repeating, "It's closed! Go to the other market. Trust me!". Yeah....

7. Ticket Office Scam. When you get into a tuk-tuk you tell the driver where you want to go. Well if you're going to the train station then sometimes they ask you a follow-up question like, "Are you going to buy tickets?". When you answer, "Yes" they say, "Oh, you should buy tickets at the tourist office, not the station. It's much better." Uh, no. This is a huge scam in Delhi where people try to take you to a shop where they charge commission.

8. I Work Here Scam. This one happened to us at -- you guessed it -- Agra. We woke up early and went to the Taj Mahal and there was nobody in line. A well dressed guy with a badge on came up to us as we went to the ticket window. He gave us some instructions and seemed to be working for the Taj Mahal office. In fact, he was chatting with the ticket seller behind the counter. AND the ticket seller gave him our tickets when I bought them. The guy then told us we were entitled to a free bottle of water and shoe covers. He then began to lead us into the Taj Mahal where he handed our tickets to the guards and went right in for free. Huyen was on to this scam before I was but the guy was so smooth so it was quite deceptive. As soon as we walked into the Taj I said straight up to the guy, "Do you work here?". The guy said, "Yes, I'm a tour guide." I said, "We don't want a tour guide" which the guy replied, "It is no problem, just give me whatever you like at the end." We declined the offer and watched him go back to the ticket office to try and get another paying customer.

9. The Fruit Scam. Shockingly, no fruit sellers have Shoprite quality digital scales. Everyone uses scales in which they balance the fruit with weights. Well, not every fruit seller is honest and lets just say that we had vastly different amounts of fruit weighting 1kg.

10. The Hotel Scam. After dealing with people trying to scam you all day long on the streets and at sights, all you want is a safe refugee when you get back to your hotel. However, even there you often deal with people trying to scam you. For example, on our last night in India, we booked a nice hotel on Agoda for a very cheap price. We booked the place because we wanted a comfortable place to stay before flying and because the hotel said it had free wifi and an airport transfer. Well, when I asked for the wifi password they said it cost 200 Rubies. I said that our room booking said it was free. They disagreed. I agreed to pay for the password and then logged right onto the website where we booked the room. I showed the page to the front desk worker where it said, "Complimentary Wifi." The guy couldn't look me in they eye as he nodded and said they wouldn't charge us. Worse, the manager of the hotel told us that the "airport transfer" was only for pick-ups. I told him that the site said "one way" and didn't say which way. The manager told us he would see what he could do and would get back to us the next day with a "special package." Whatever the fuck that meant. I went back to Agoda and read some reviews of the hotel and was very amused when I saw that one British guy had commented that he was told the "pick up wasn't included." Clearly the hotel tries to shove it to their guests on both ends. In the end, we got the free ride.

These are only 11 of the typical scams we dealt with. There were A LOT more, some of which I'll be including in funny anecdotes in other blogs.

The White Tiger

2011-06-26T03:45:00.000-07:00

I always like to read books about the country I'm traveling in. My Aunt Ronny suggested that I read THE WHITE TIGER, which was also Lonely Planet's top choice for Indian fiction. I picked the book up at a shop in the book quarter of Kolkata and read it in just a couple of days. Aravind Adiga, the author, has a great writing style and an extremely acute eye for societal observations; I guess it helps that he's Indian.

To me, the greatest line in the book came on the second page and it's something I thought about throughout my time in India. Here's what he wrote:

"...our nation, though it has no drinking water, electricity, sewage system, public transportation, sense of hygiene, discipline, courtesy, or punctuality, does have entrepreneurs."

For me, this is India in a nutshell. There are so many problem in India, but everyone is trying to make a dollar for themselves. And to me, this was the biggest problem of all...

Mangoes

2011-06-25T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Picking mangoes...before the article we just read.)

As I was typing that last blog, Huyen interrupted me with a look of disgust on her face. She began to read me an article from THE TIMES OF INDIA. Here's what the article says:

SUBJECT: Toxic mangoes: Traders asked to clean up act.

New Delhi: It's a well known fact that mangoes are ripened with calcium carbide by traders and this can prove to be toxic. The chemical is banned in section 44A of the Prevention of Food Adulteration Act but is being used across the capital, a fact that Delhi government has suddenly woken up to. It is now preparing the ground for a crackdown.

That's the opening paragraph. On a nice sidebar it lists some facts including: "Calcium carbide can damage kidney, heart and liver and cause ulcer." I bolded the same words that were bolded in the sidebar.

So here's why Huyen had a look on her face -- we've eaten and drank mangoes every single day that we've bee in India. Furthermore, we're currently in Delhi and ate two mangoes last night! Well, who needs a kidney, heart and liver, right?

Fist Fights

2011-06-24T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The animals here imitate the humans.)

Think for a second: When was the last time you saw two grown up men in a fist fight. Okay, now think harder, when was the last time you saw two grown up SOBER men in a fist fight? Personally, I don't think I've ever seen that (I'm assuming at a sporting event the combatants were drunk), or at least not in the last decade.

Well, today I saw my THIRD and FOURTH fist fight between two Indian men. Okay, technically they all weren't fist fights but they did all at least have one person grabbing the other and shoving them with a finger in the face and voices raised to a threatening level. Here's the four situations as best as I could interpret them:

FIGHT 1: This occurred on a bus between two passengers. I believe they were vying for some standing space. They started to yell at each other and grabbed one another on a crowded bus. Finally the bus ticket collector threw them both off...except one then jumped back on and I think said, "I'm cool" in Hindi.

FIGHT 2: This was the scariest one. Huyen and I were at the train station when a huge crowd started to form around two men. One guy was jacked (mom, that's slang for very strong) and had the other guy by the belt buckle and was basically dragging him with his other finger in the guy's face. The other guy looked petrified and was waving his hands as if to say, "Sooo sorry for trying to pick pocket you. I don't know what I was thinking." Well, who knows what he was saying but the imaginary conversation went something like that. Huyen and I jetted before the crowd turned more raucous.

FIGHT 3: This morning two guys on the street were wrestling with each other. They weirdly had both their hands clasped like they were doing a WWF test of strength. I'm pretty sure one of them had bumped his rickshaw into the other.

FIGHT 4: Just now two other guys on the street were in each other's face. One guy was holding the other guy's undershirt and jabbing his finger at him. There were no context clues to this fight so I can only imagine they are ex-lovers who bumped into each other and still aren't over one cheating with Bengali sweet shop owner.

One time on a bus, I saw a guy reading a book called "The Argumentative Indian." I have no idea what that book is about but I plan on checking it out of the library when I get home. Just from the title though, I can only hope it explains why Indian men are so confrontational.

As far as the picture above, one day while we were walking in Agra we had to jump back about twenty feet because two holy bulls started to tussle in the street. At first it was sort of amusing as they locked horns, but it turned pretty ugly when one bull kicked the crap out of the other one. I'm no vet but I'm fairly sure the bull broke the other bull's leg because the other bull limped away, gushing blood. It was pretty nasty. Huyen and I stood sort of in shock as about a dozen Indian guys laughed their asses off next to us.

Oh, India.

Taxi Math

2011-06-23T03:00:00.000-07:00

I'm not good at math. In fact, it gives me the sweats. One place that I don't like to do math is in a taxi cab. I like to look at the meter, pay the fare and give the driver a couple bucks tip. In Kolkata though, you need to do some math to figure out the correct cost of your far. There's two types of math problems:

TAXI MATH PROBLEM #1: To get the correct cost of your taxi, you need to DOUBLE the fare on the meter and then add two rubies. Yes, whatever the meter says you should then double it. For example, if you ride to the Memorial Monument and it says 23 Rubies, the correct cost is 46 Rubies plus 2 Rubies extra. I know this sounds like a scam (DRIVER: "Yeah, so, uh, you actually need to pay double what the meter says) but it's truly how it works. My Lonely Planet warned me about this and so did the concierge guy at our hotel.

TAXI MATH PROBLEM #2: This is the math that really pisses me off. Here's the problem: If you take a taxi from A to B and it costs 70 Rubies, then how much should a taxi from B to A cost? If you're like me, you're thinking 70 Rubies, duh! Well, not so much in a country where everyone is trying to rip you off. Huyen and I took a taxi to a part of town where there was no subway (we took the subway everywhere else which was actually pretty great, albeit crowded). The fare there cost 70 Rubies. After dinner, we approached a cab and asked him to take us back to our hotel. The cab driver wanted 300 Rubies. In fact, every driver we asked wanted something ludicrous and refused to turn on the meter. Finally, we found a guy who would drive us for 100 Rubies. We found him about 1/4 of the way back to our hotel since we had started to walk. In my math world it should have cost us ____ (whatever 1/4 of 70 is).

Besides math problems, there's also sometimes geography problems. Luckily, I was always good at geography...although that doesn't apply in India I guess.

Here's the geography problem: we had to take another taxi one afternoon and the driver dropped us off at the WRONG part of town. We knew it was the wrong part of town but the guy wouldn't stop arguing with us that it was exactly where our hotel's business card said it was. He kept pointing at the card and then pointing to where we were. Well, the guy was clearly illiterate (an English problem) because he had dropped us as some point in town FURTHER away from where we had started. In his defense, both parts of town started with the letter "R". Luckily there was a subway nearby so we jumped on it and got back to our place thirty minutes later.

Oh, India.

Beggars

2011-06-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A pretty common scene in India.)

I hope I don't come off as completely insensitive and as a total a-hole by writing this blog because well, that's how I feel a lot out here. As most people know, poverty is a huge issue in India. Like in most Indian movies you've seen, there are street beggars everywhere. It seems that you can't go more than ten feet on a sidewalk without someone asking you for money or rattling their can at you.

My heart goes out for the kids who are on the street because god knows how the hell they ended up in their situation. The thing is, there's millions of kids begging in this country and after a while you start to almost become desensitized to them -- and well, that's terrible and makes you feel rotten.

More than a few times, I've had kids and other beggars latch onto my arm. Coming from the states (or I would think almost any developed country), having homeless people grab you is something that is way beyond our code or acceptable conduct. Frankly, you feel violated. But worse than that is when you end up feeling like the bad guy because you have to yell at a homeless ten year old to get off your arm.

But then, the cynic is me starts to think: Are these kids trying to scam me like half the people in the country (another blog coming up)? For example, the other day Huyen and I were walking down the street and some kid (probably around ten) starts asking us for money. The kid was filthy, very skinny and walking with a limp. After I told him no about six times, he grabbed me by the bicep and basically had me drag him along with me for ten feet. I finally stopped, gave him an evil look and said, "No!". I clearly scared the kid and he let go. I then watched him walk away WITH NO LIMP.

The point is, the begging here is a double whammy. First you feel horrible that so many people have to beg. Second you feel like a jerk for getting mad at people for the way they beg.

Oh, and then there are stories like this (where I got the picture from)...

First Impressions

2011-06-21T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: At night, men just gather on the street and play chess.)

Crazy. That's the world I would use to describe my first impressions of Kolkata. I would say "overwhelmed" but really I found myself laughing and staring in the relative safety of our Ambassador taxi. Huyen and I kept on pointing at things and saying, "Whoah, did you see that?" or simply, "Oh my god."

There doesn't seem to be an inch of space wasted in Kolkata. There's something going on seemingly everywhere. There were tons of people standing/squatting/sitting on the sides of roads or hanging out of cars/rickshaws/bicycles/buses. There were animals which seemed to be out on joy walks, enjoying the garbage buffet that lined the streets. There were posters and advertisements that covered every wall from the airport to our hotel.

There was the nonsensical. Coming from Hanoi, I thought driving couldn't be worse. I was wrong. Nearly dead wrong. We'll get into this in a later blog but people had barely any grasp/care for safe driving. Either that, or as I suspect, people just can't afford new brakes.

And then there was the poverty. As we drove in, you could see the squalor everywhere. There were cardboard and scarp metal homes anywhere there wasn't a concrete and brick one. On the streets, there were people begging on nearly every corner. At one point, we stopped at a red light (yes, we actually stopped) and a kid (probably 8) came up to my window holding his sibling (probably two) begging for money. The kid reached in and grabbed my arm. This would be the first of many times this would happen.

At the end of our one and a half hour trip to our hotel (which if the roads were empty would probably have taken fifteen minutes max) our taxi pulled up to a street which was totally under construction. The driver signaled that he couldn't go down the street and told us to walk. Frankly, we had no clue if this was where our hotel was (it turned out to be about a five minute walk down the alley) or if he was just tired of driving us. After grabbing our bags we gave him a little tip. He then started to complain that we should give him a lot more. Really? A lot more of a tip for you not dropping us off not at our hotel (he clearly could have gone one block up and circled around to our hotel)?

In the end, we got to our hotel which was a sanctuary of peacefulness compared to the rest of the city. These first impressions though would last and only become cemented over the coming weeks. We'll delve into lots of these things in upcoming blogs.

Kolkata: Airport Pick-Up

2011-06-20T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: An Ambassador cab.)

My friend Kevin scared the crap out of me when I told him that I was going to Kolkata. You see, he and his wife Beth went to India for their honeymoon and spent their first couple of days in Kolkata. When I asked Kevin for some advice, he told me to fly in and get the heck out. This scared me because I consider Kevin to be one of the best travelers I know. If this warning wasn't enough, he and Beth insisted that we allow them to treat us to a night at a 5 star hotel when we arrived. It took a lot of arguing but finally I convinced Kevin that it wasn't necessary. Kevin relented and said that he at least wanted to get us a driver to pick us up at the airport because we shouldn't be winging it when we first arrive since he was sure Kolkata would be unlike anything we'd ever experienced. I agreed and Kevin attempted to arrange a driver. After a few days, Kevin told me that he was having trouble getting us a ride because "things are never easy in India." Wiser words were never spoken.

I told Kevin not to worry and arrainged a pick-up with the hotel I booked (for the record, we stayed at a really awesome boutique hotel/art gallery). The hotel sent me a confirmation email and told me that a driver would be waiting at the exit gate with a placard. Naturally, nobody was there when we came. Huyen and I waited for about twenty minutes before we decided to give up on the pick-up. The problem was though that we didn't have a phone to call the hotel and the pre-paid taxi booth was inside the airport. This was a problem because we were now outside the airport and you needed a ticket to get back in. Luckily, the pretty-face-rule works in India too and Huyen sweet talked an army guy with a machine gun to let her into the airport. Huyen paid for a taxi and came back outside.

We took our prepaid taxi receipt to the taxi line and told a circle of drivers where we wanted to go. Not one driver actually knew the spot and they debated on it for about 10 minutes. Finally one guy said to follow him and led us to his taxi which was not in the taxi line. Two other guys grabbed our bags and escorted us to the taxi. The two other guys apparently were homeless men who took our bags to get a tip. Heck, I respect that since they're not just sitting on the street begging for money (I don't mean to sound heartless but when you can't go twenty feet without someone asking for money you don't mind giving something to someone whose going that extra mile) . The problem is we didn't have any small denominations so we ended up giving them our leftover Thai Baht...which they seemed happy to get. Our taxi driver got into the car and shewd off the beggars. He then turned on the Ambassador cab, which rattled to life, rolled down the windows and we sped off into Kolkata...

Flight to Kolkata

2011-06-19T03:00:00.000-07:00

Our first real taste of India came on the flight to Kolkata. The plane was filled with probably 95% Indians which made for an interesting couple of hours. One of the things I had heard about Indian culture is that personal space isn't something they're really into. This became quickly apparent as the lady next to Huyen more or less cuddle up next to her and went to sleep. No kidding, she ended up taking up about 25% of Huyen's chair. Behind us, about four Indian guys crammed into the three seats once the plane took off (although I don't think before the unfasten seat belt sign went off). The guys played cards behind us and weren't exactly not kicking my chair every thirty seconds.

However, the most telling example of how Indians aren't into following rules (blogs on littering, driving, etc. coming soon) came when the plane landed. Seemingly as soon as the plane touched down, nearly every Indian person jumped to their feet and began grabbing their bags from the overhead compartments. The Air Asia flight attendants got on the loud speakers and told everyone to sit down until we got to the gate. However, nobody listened. The flight attendants than basically went through the aisle and pushed people back into their seats. I really felt for this one flight attendant who looked completely dumbfounded and frustrated as she tried to get people to sit down; clearly this was a daily experience for her.

And with that, we begin the blogs on India...

Airport Scare

2011-06-18T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Imagine me sprinting down those moving escalators.)

After checking in at the airport, we had about an hour and a half to kill...which left me just enough time to drop a Phuket curry off in the Bangkok airport bathroom. While I went to use the facilities, Huyen went to spend our remaining Thai Baht on some snacks for the airplane. We made a plan to meet at a very recognizable point in ten minutes. Well, after ten minutes I came back and Huyen wasn't there yet. I figured maybe she was in the bathroom or was really trying to stretch our remaining Thai money so I took a seat, opened my computer and watched a live stream of the Boston Bruins in the conference finals. After a couple of minutes of Huyen not showing up, I started to get nervous. However, the Bruins were on so my nerves were able to stay somewhat in check. After thirty minutes, I full started to panic.

If you've ever been to the Bangkok Airport, it's quite a gigantic place. I figured the worst thing I could do was to run around looking for Huyen considering there's probably 10,000 people in the International terminal at any one time. I decided the smartest thing to do was to go to our gate, thinking perhaps Huyen had gone there. Our gate though was the farthest one in the international terminal. I'd say it was a solid half mile from where we were supposed to meet. I got there pretty fast though since there were moving sidewalks all the way to the gate. However, of course Huyen wasn't there. I took a deep breath, maintained my composure and started jogging back to the point we said we would meet. Going back was harder since none of the moving sidewalks went in that direction. Just when I had gotten almost back to our meeting point, I saw Huyen. Initially I had been angry at her for not meeting where we said we would but that immediately went away when I saw how scared she was. It turns out, she went the wrong way in the airport and was waiting in section F, not section E. Huyen, who has never had the best sense of direction, got turned around when purchasing our snacks. Lets just say it was quite scary for both of us!

While waiting for Huyen/watching the Boston Bruins, I had checked my email. My friend Alex had emailed me a couple of times asking for help with our friend Brett's wedding speech. I told him that I didn't have time at the moment because I lost Huyen at the airport and our flight was leaving pretty soon. He wrote back, "Is this how the screenplay ends?" I thought that was pretty hilarious as it did feel like a very cinematic moment. Luckily, it had a happy ending as we found each other and got on our plane in time.

Check In Weirdo

2011-06-17T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Air Asia flight attendants.)

If you've flown Air Asia before, you know that they are famous for having very beautiful flight attendants. In fact, I'm pretty sure they hire girls from modeling agencies to just walk around the Bangkok airport in Air Asia uniforms. I kid you not, there were a dozen Air Asia girls walking around the check-in area like runway models. Anyway, the girl who checked us in for our India flight was not one of those girls. She could have been very attractive but she was wearing a clown-level amount of make-up (I guess it is easy to get a complex when all your coworkers are hot). For me, paint-level amounts of make-up is an immediate sign that someone has some issues, probably not so hidden. This was confirmed when Huyen and I checked in. The girl took our passports and examined them for like five minutes. She did this in not so much a this-is-my-job way but rather a I'm-stoned-out-of-my-mind way. With bug eyes she looked over each page and after a couple of minutes said, "Your name should be Benjamin April because you're born in April." I smiled at her and I think said, "Well my father is born in August." Then she began to stare at our passports again and said, "You're going to India?". We nodded. She then looked completely perplexed, as if contemplating the creation of the universe, and added, "What's there to see in India?" I thought about handing her my guide book or a copy of Slumdog Millionaire (which I still think is over rated) but instead said, "I'll tell you next time I see you." To this she added a, "Yeahhhhhhhhhh."

After another couple of minutes she handed us our boarding passes and we backed away from the counter. Huyen and I both immediately turned to each other and started to giggle and slightly mock the girl. Well, perhaps we shouldn't have mocked her because for the first two weeks or so of our trip we basically hated India. Sure we had fun because we're together but both of us keep thinking that maybe we should have taken the clownish Air Asia girl more seriously.

I'm writing this post at the halfway point of our trip and my fingers are crossed that things will get better. For now though, bare with me on some slightly negative (and hopefully funny) posts.

Late Taxi

2011-06-16T03:00:00.000-07:00

To be able to be on time for our flight to India, we had to take the earliest flight out of Phuket. Our flight was around 6:50AM so we had arrainged for a taxi to pick us up at 4:45. Huyen and I left our hotel room at 4:30 and walked to the lobby. As we were walking, a Thai hooker came out of the hotel room a couple of doors down from ours and walked a few feet behind us. She clearly wasn't a rookie as it seemed like the guy behind the front desk knew her well. Oh, Thailand.

Anyway, per usual, I was early for an appointment. However, the taxi driver was no August and showed up a solid 25 minutes late. Naturally I started to panic that we were gonna miss our flight since the airport was 50 minutes away. The front desk called the taxi company and they said the guy was on his way. Clearly we woke the guy up because he showed up in a wife-beater, looking like he had gone to bed within the hour. Yeah, not exactly the guy you want driving you to the airport...especially when he now has to speed/run red lights to get you there on time.

Luckily, we made it to the airport on time, checked-in were able to eat a quick breakfast (which the nice 4 star hotel had packed for us) and then jump on the plane and say goodbye to Phuket.

Huyen and I had fun on the island but it's definitely not my favorite spot in Thailand. If for some reason you're reading my blog and trying to decide which Thai island to go to, I'd skip Phuket and head to Ko Phanang.

Agoda

2011-06-15T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Sunset at a Karon Beach.)

Before arriving in Phuket, I had emailed the owner and asked if he had wifi. He said no but that we could use the wifi from the resort next door. When we arrived, I asked him again about the wifi and he told me the only place to use it was in the shower house (the bungalows had shared bathrooms).

So after being totally screwed over by the owner/restaurant we immediately headed to the bathroom to search the web for a new hotel. F irst I should mention that the wifi was very very weak. At most, I had one bar -- more on this later. While doing my research on Phuket I came upon the hotel website Agoda. If you're not familiar with it, check it out. It's awesome. Immediately upon doing a search, we found out that the 4 star resort next door was offering a deal which made it just $5 more than our zero star bungalow. We thought about just moving next door but then we'd end up having to use the same dangerous/dirty beach. Instead, we decided to look for a place at one of the more famous Phuket beaches. We ended up finding a deal at a 4 star hotel called Diamond Cottages Spa and Resort. With tax, we paid $35 a night. That was over and 80% discount from what the hotel is listed as. Yeah, it was a steal. I tried to reserve the room just as a huge thunderstorm swept in and messed up the wifi. After spending nearly an hour and a half searching, we couldn't book our hotel.

(PICTURE: This gecko was next to us while we stole a resort's wifi signal.)

The next morning we awoke early and basically sat in front of the neighboring resort's entrance to use their wifi again. The signal was much stronger and we booked the hotel in about five minutes. We then had breakfast at our garbage site and ordered a taxi to take us to our new place. The taxi cost as much as the hotel since it was about an hour's drive. However, it was worth every penny.

Our new hotel was AWESOME. We had a gorgeous room (with AC) and were right between two nicer beaches. On top of that, the hotel had two fantastic pools. If you read my blog the other day, Huyen and I were now Category 1 travelers. We spent the next 48 hours as happy as could be. We went swimming in both beaches and pools and enjoyed lots of food that was overpriced but still tasty. Changing hotels, yeah, it was a great decision.

Thai Food

2011-06-14T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Huyen on our isolated beach.)

I love Thai Food and couldn't wait to have some in Phuket. One of the features of the bungalow was that it had a supposedly pretty good restaurant. After going for a walk on the beach, Huyen and I had an evening meal. The food though was just okay. I've been to Thailand a few times (and Thai restaurants hundreds of times) and this place just wasn't anything special. I really wanted to love it, especially since it cost more than you would expect a bungalow's restaurant to cost.

Because of this, the next day Huyen and I went out in search of some better and cheaper food. We found just the spot about a ten minute walk from our bungalow. You see, as we had driven in the day before, we saw a handful of food stands by a construction site (they're building a new Holiday Inn near the bungalows). We went to the stands and ended up eating breakfast and lunch there. The food was quite good and totally authentic. The only problem was that it was next to a construction site and more or less a garbage dump. You know, besides the garbage it was great.

Here's the thing though, I felt a little guilty not eating at the bungalow especially since we were the only people staying there! There was another couple the night before but they checked out on our first full day. The restaurant was staffed with three girls who clearly had nothing to do except to cook for us...and we chose to eat elsewhere.

In the afternoon, we decided to have a little picnic and took our papaya salad, chicken skewers and Thai iced tea to the beach. I think the owner was a little peeved that we weren't eating at the restaurant because as soon as we sat down, three of his dogs basically jumped on us. We ended up having to walk quite far down the beach before the dogs would let us eat in peace.

Now all that said, we had planned on eating dinner again at the bungalow restaurant that night. I had specifically asked the owner what time the restaurant serves until and he said just to place our order before 9PM. Well, at 8PM we went to the restaurant and it was totally boarded up. This was a problem since we were starving and the construction site was closed. I wasn't too happy about this turn of events and wanted to say something to the owner who lives in a bungalow next to the restaurant. As we got close to the bungalow though his dogs starting to bark quite fiercely at us. The light was on inside his bungalow so we started yelling his name. And yup, he ignored us.

This was quite stupid on his part because we had planned on paying for two more nights and instead decided to check out the next morning...

Mai Kao Beach

2011-06-13T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: This was about as close to the water as I got.)

After doing a bunch of research, I found a place on Mai Kao beach that was supposedly the last beach side bungalows on Phuket. This wasn't exactly true considering that there was another beach side bungalow place down the beach; besides that though, we didn't see any others. The place was called Seaside Cottages and is run by a British expat named Malcolm. The place definitely lived up to its billing as bungalows by the beach and was exactly what we wanted..except for one thing -- the beach.

We arrived around 4PM and immediately dropped off our stuff in our bungalow and headed down to the water. I had planned on taking a nice sunset swim but was put off by how violently the waves were crashing at the shore. I went up to my thighs and could feel a very strong undertow. Where we were was very isolated but we could see quite far down the beach where there are four and five star resorts. There were a handful of people out and about down the way but NOBODY was in the water. Frankly the water was too scary to swim in for me, let alone Huyen. We ended up spending two nights at this place and didn't go into the ocean once. Upon leaving, I asked the owner when the best time to swim is. He said, "I don't know. I can't swim." I shit you not, the owner of a beachside "resort" can't swim.

The second problem with the beach was that it was FILTHY. It was as dirty as any Vietnamese beach I've ever been to. I asked Malcolm if this was because of debris from the tsunami a few years back and he said no, it was always like that.

(PICTURE: Beach trash.)

The Long Way Home

2011-06-12T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Sunset in Phuket on our first night.)

Huyen and I decided that instead of flying directly to America, we would continue our honeymoon. You see, it was basically the same price to fly one-way from Hanoi to NY as it was to do a couple of one way flights to some places we had never been. Originally, we had planned on doing two weeks in Sri Lanka, two weeks in India and then two weeks in France. However, getting visas was a pain in the butt so we decided to just go to India. While booking our flight there, we saw some super cheap flights on Air Asia that we could pass up. Basically for both of us to fly from Hanoi to Bangkok, Bangkok to Phuket, Phuket to Bangkok and Bangkok to Kolkata cost us less than $450. We had absolutely no intention of going to Phuket until a deal flashed on my computer screen as we booked our plans. It cost us about $50 each to fly round trip to the island.

As I hit the purchase button on Air Asia's website, I started to immediately have second thoughts. I didn't know much about Phuket but the things I had heard all were not so good. Mainly, I read/heard that Phuket was now just an island of 4 and 5 star resorts and not a place for backpackers. And yes, I'm 32 and still consider myself a backpacker. As I see it, travelers fall into two categories:

Category 1: People who can only take 1-2 week vacations a year and want to spend every moment in luxury.

Category 2: People who have lots of time on their hands and don't mind sacrificing luxury to be able to travel for months to years.

In total, Huyen and I will have been traveling for more than 3 months when we land in the USA. Considering that we don't have jobs, we thought it would be wise to pinch a few pennies along the way. And hence, my nervousness going to Phuket where supposedly nothing is cheap...

Airport Party

2011-06-11T04:37:00.001-07:00

(PICTURE: We found our own quiet corner in the airport.)

I've got a lot of blogging to make-up for. However, I'm going to skip our final days in Vietnam as I personally feel those stories should come before landing in America, albeit out of chronological order. However, I will give you a quick snippet:

After spending two weeks with Huyen's family, we headed to the airport. Most of Huyen's family had never been to the airport so they decided to come with us to check the place out and to say goodbye. But really, just to check the place out since they left two hours before we took off! Almost all of Huyen's immediate family were there except for her mother who was too sad to make the trip. Needless to say, there were a lot of tears that day. We'll get into this at a later date.

On a happy note though, we had quite a party at the airport. We ate a whole chicken (killed/prepared the night before), sticky rice (which Huyen's mom prepared at midnight), corn and a bunch of refreshments...including lots of Hanoi beer. Frankly, it was a great way to leave the country!

(PICTURE: A sample of the feast.)

Hiatus...

2011-06-05T03:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Loyal Readers,

Take a deep breath...

Huyen and I are currently backpacking around India. Despite this country having 600,000,000 IT jobs, it's been a pain in the ass to find internet and nearly impossible to find WIFI. This is the reason my blogs have been so half-ass the last week or so. I promise that as soon as I get good internet I'll throw up some new posts. Thanks for your patience!

Ben

An Amazing Trip...

2011-06-04T03:00:00.000-07:00

Without a doubt, there was no better way to say goodbye to Vietnam than to travel from Hanoi to HCMC on our Honda Wave. What an amazing trip:

Snakes on a train

2011-06-03T03:00:00.000-07:00

Ryan sent me this great article. Classic Vietnam:

Snakes on a train in Vietnam cause panic

Many highly venomous king cobras found in 100-pound bags on a Vietnamese train, most likely bound for the dinner table

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(CBS/AP)

HANOI, Vietnam — Panic ensued after railroad staff found snakes on a train in Vietnam.

Railway officials discovered the snakes — highly venomous king cobras — in bags under a seat.

Railroad official Pham Quynh says passengers were terrified when four cloth bags containing the writhing cobras were spotted Friday. The snakes were alive but had their mouths stitched shut.

Quynh says the exact number of snakes was unclear but the bags weighed 100 pounds.

Security staff removed the cobras, which were likely destined for restaurants in Hanoi. Their owner apparently escaped in the chaos.

Snake meat is considered a delicacy in Vietnam, but cobras are protected by law.

Quynh says the cobras were given to forest rangers who released them into the wild Saturday after no one claimed them.

Of the species, National Geographic writes: "King cobras can reach 18 feet in length, making them the longest of all venomous snakes. Their venom is not the most potent among venomous snakes, but the amount of neurotoxin they can deliver in a single bite--up to two-tenths of a fluid ounce --is enough to kill 20 people, or even an elephant. Fortunately, king cobras are shy and will avoid humans whenever possible, but they are fiercely aggressive when cornered."

Sunrise

2011-06-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

Back to the motorbike trip:

(PICTURE: Sunrise.)

On our last morning before heading to the HCM area, we woke up early to check out sunrise. Unfortunately, the sun didn't rise over the ocean (like the guest house told us it would) and instead came up in a tough to see place. However, the beach was absolutely empty and the environment couldn't have been more peaceful. After walking along the beach, we decided to go for a "swim" in the water. The water was perfectly calm, so much so that I took my camera into the sea:

(PICTURE: Huyen can tread water with just her feet!)

Vietnamese Big Foot

2011-06-01T03:00:00.000-07:00

Ryan sent me this wikipedia link. Apparently every country has a Big Foot:

The Batutut or Ujit, sometimes also known as "forest people", is a proposed hominid cryptid, reputedly similar to the bigfoot, thought to inhabit the Vu Quang nature reserve and other wilderness areas of Vietnam, Laos and northern Borneo. The Vu Quang has been the source of a number of newly discovered mammals by Dr. John MacKinnon. Mackinnon claims to have first observed tracks in 1970 that led him to believe that a hominid similar to the Meganthropus lives there (instead, cryptozoologist Loren Coleman believes that the Batutut are a surviving population of Homo erectus or Neanderthal.^[1]). Mackinnon's 1975 book In Search Of The Red Ape describes his experiences and findings.^[2] A 1947 sighting by a French colonist refers to the animal as a L'Homme Sauvage (wild man).^[3] Vietnamese scholars refer to the animal as the Người Rừng ("forest man").^[4]

It is described as being approximately 1.8 m (6 ft) tall and covered with hair except in the knees, the soles of the feet, the hands, and the face. The hair ranges in color from gray to brown to black. The creature walks on two legs and has been reported both solitary and moving in small groups. The creature is most often sighted foraging for food from fruits and leaves to langers and even flying foxes.

I can report (thankfully) that Huyen and I never saw Batutut on our trip.

One month!

2011-05-31T03:00:00.000-07:00

Huyen and I will be in the USA in one month!!!!!

Freedom of Religion?

2011-05-30T03:00:00.000-07:00

My friend Jessica sent me the following BBC article. After yesterday's post, it seemed a good time to put it on the blog. Besides this article, I haven't seen it in the news anywhere here:

Many Vietnamese Hmong 'in hiding'

Hundreds of Hmong people are still in hiding in north-west Vietnam a week after an outbreak of unrest, a priest has told the BBC Vietnamese service.

Hmong Pastor Thao A Tam said the security forces had arrested more than 100 people over the violence.

Officials said "extremists" had been detained - but gave no exact figures.

Thousands of Hmong people clashed with security forces in Dien Bien province last week, in the worst ethnic violence for seven years.

Pastor Tam said thousands of Hmong had travelled to a small area in Dien Bien province late last month because they had heard a rumour that the second coming of Jesus Christ was imminent.

But the Communist authorities sent in the security forces to break up the gathering, sparking days of violent confrontations.

Earlier reports said the protests by the Hmong were politically motivated, and that their demands included more religious freedom, better land rights and more autonomy.

Poverty

Pastor Tam - one of the few outsiders to have reached the area where the violence broke out - said at least 600 people had fled into hiding after the unrest.

"There are people in hiding and I still don't know what needs to be done to persuade them to go home," he said.

He said many Hmong returned to their home villages to find that their houses had been looted.

"It will take at least six months for things to get back to normal," he said.

"The Hmong people are in a difficult situation now, especially when it comes to making a living."

The Hmong communities in Vietnam's mountainous north-west are among the poorest people in the country.

They have a relationship of mutual mistrust with the government.

Many of the Hmong fought on the side of the United States during the Vietnam War, and they feel they are discriminated against because of their past.

Churches

2011-05-29T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The church in Kon Tum.)

A couple years ago, my friend Nicky made a comment on a motorbike trip we were on. As we passed a few churches in the countryside, he said, "If the Catholic Church is good at one thing, it's building churches." I'm not sure if Nicky is Catholic or not, but this line has stuck with me for awhile now and never more so than on this trip.

In the north, churches are pretty few and far between. There's a couple in Hanoi, a famous one in Ninh Binh and then a bunch of old ones in smaller countryside towns. However, when you start to hit the center of the country, churches are EVERYWHERE.

At one point, Huyen and I were driving through a very back country area, through rice fields, and we saw not one, not two, but three HUGE churches less than a mile apart. I was sort of dumbfounded because seemingly one huge church could have fit all of the local people in it.

The churches are also quite beautiful and modern and almost all have steeples that rise high above anything else in the area. I asked my friend Hien about this and she said that many Vietnamese living abroad send back money to have churches built in their communities.

The only church Huyen and I visited was the oldest churches in Vietnam, located in Kon Tum. The church was built almost 100 years ago (1913) by a French priest. The church is completely made of wood and has some gorgeous stained glass on the inside.

(PICTURE: I think that's a cow but could be a water buffalo.)

When we arrived at the church there were hundreds of people pouring in. By the time we left, the whole outside lawn of the church was filled for a ceremony. I'd say there were probably 2,000 or more people there. Perhaps the coolest thing though was some of the local decoration on the inside of the church as there were lots of traditional ethnic minority handicrafts all over the walls and dangling from the ceiling.

Like in many other places in Vietnam though, this one church couldn't house everyone. Right down the street there were two gigantic, modern churches.

Drago

2011-05-28T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Drago.)

Everyone we went to the lighthouse with spoke Russian and worked in the Mui Ne/Phan Thiet tourism industry which caters to 80% Russian clients. Well, in a perfect moment of timing, after we went to the lighthouse we went back to Ngan's house for lunch and Rocky IV was on. Naturally I was drawn to the tv and couldn't stop watching. Well, as soon as the Russian speakers heard some Russian they too were drawn in.

Shockingly NOBODY had ever seen any of the Rocky movies or heard of them. How this is possible, I don't know. Weirder though is something I learned a long time ago out here -- people naturally assume movies are based on real people and events. I've had to explain to multiple people that characters like Forrest Gump are not real. Anyway, these tour guides were all highly impressed with how small Rocky was compared to Drago and how he came out on top. When Rocky and Drago were punching the hell out of each other they were "oohing" and "ahhing" with each ridiculous hit.

On a side note, have you watched that movie recently? As a kid it was one of my favorites but watching it now is kind of weird. For one, Ivan Drago never does anything bad except take steroids. I mean, what professional athlete doesn't do that these days. Oh sure he kills Apollo Creed but they were boxing and he punched him hard. Furthermore, the Americans come off as arrogant a-holes throughout the beginning of the movie. Specifically, Apollo Creed is just a jerk. At the news conference he was talking so much smack and as soon as Drago's trainer says that Drago will win, Apollo goes ape shit. Seriously, if you haven't watched it in a while check it out. The other thing that bothers me as a want-to-be screenwriter is there's only like five scenes with plot in the whole movie. The rest of the movie is just montage after montage. Heck , the whole beginning of the movie is the end of Rocky III!

Okay, that was a tangent I hadn't planned on going on. The point is watching Rocky IV with Vietnamese Russian speakers was interesting.

Visiting An Old Friend

2011-05-27T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Huyen and Ngan.)

Besides family, we got to meet up with some friends along the way. While in Da Lat, we met up with Huyen's high school classmate Ngan who is now a tour guide for Russian tourists. Huyen told me that Ngan was the second best Russian student in their class. The best? Well, Huyen of course!

Ngan was just in Da Lat for the day because she's based out of Phan Thiet. When we got to Mui Ne (which is next to Phan Thiet), we met up with Ngan and her boyfriend Hai a bunch of times. They took us to the best local seafood shop which was basically a make-shift restaurant next to some public picnic benches. The food though was as good as promised.

(PICTURE: Ngan and Hai eating seafood.)

A couple of days later, Ngan organized a trip to the oldest lighthouse in Vietnam. We went to the lighthouse with about ten other people. To get there we drove along a beautiful beachside road lined with all new four and five star resorts. Then we had to take a little boat to the lighthouse and then obviously climb up. It was actually quite a trip to get there (we woke up at 4AM!) but worth it. The views from the top were very cool:

(PICTURE: Huyen on top of the lighthouse.)

(PICTURE: Getting ready for the boat to the lighthouse...which you can see in the background.)

Visiting Family

2011-05-26T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: 2 out of 3 Nguyen sisters with Nhat Minh.)

One of the best parts of our trip was that we got to visit some family along the way. At nearly the halfway point of our travels, we stopped in Hue to visit Huyen's sister and her in-laws. We also got to spend a lot of time with Nhat Minh who is now six months old.
(PICTURE: Tan and Nhat Minh.)

(PICTURE: Add a bigger nose and this could be us in two years.)

Hue is one of my favorite cities and in my opinion has perhaps the best food in Vietnam. That is, if you can get it not totally covered in chili peppers. My absolute favorite restaurant is a goat BBQ/hot pot place on the outskirts of the city. Every time we go to Hue we eat there on our first night...and sometimes last night too.

On the tail end of our trip we visited Huyen's uncle and cousins outside of Ho Chi Minh City:

(PICTURE: The cousins, uncle and me.)

The pretty obvious reason for our trip is to say goodbye to Vietnam. However, even more important is saying goodbye to family. After our trip finishes we're going to be spending at least ten days with the in-laws before we take off on the second leg of our honeymoon.

Frontier Zones

2011-05-25T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A border belt.)

As I've mentioned many many times, a couple years ago my friends Long, Nicky and I were detained overnight for accidentally motorbiking into a "Frontier Zone." A frontier zone is basically anywhere close to another country's border. In the case of our detainment we were apparently very very close to Laos.

On our motorbike trip, Huyen and I spent A LOT of time near frontier zones. One of the few places we didn't need to have a permit was to visit the cave where Ho Chi Minh's snuck back into Vietnam from China. Ho Chi Minh specifically chose this cave because of its proximity to China in case the French found out where he was he could sneak back across the border.

Well, at the cave, there's a few signs pointing to different sites. The signs were slightly confusing and apparently Huyen and I went on the wrong path. As we were walking, we bumped into this lady:

(PICTURE: We were very close to China...and birthplace of those sweet blue rain pants Huyen is wearing.)

The lady told us that we were pretty darn close to crossing into China and should turn around. She added that "there should be someone at the border to stop you" but she wasn't sure.

Anyway, the cave was mildly interesting. More interesting to me was Ho Chi Minh's desk where he wrote poetry next to "Lenin Stream." I'm pretty sure there is no cooler desk in the world:
(PICTURE: The seat is on the left, the table on the right.)

Funny Signs

2011-05-24T03:00:00.000-07:00

It's impossible not to have a post every few months with funny translated signs. Here's a couple that I liked in a cave we went to:

I've said for a long time that I'd like to start a company which gets contracted out by Asian governments to fix public signs. For example, there's a huge billboard on Highway 1 about ten miles outside of Hanoi. The sign is from the office of tourism and it says, "Welcome to Hanoi. A beautiful and safety city."

Drunk Assholes

2011-05-23T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The big waterfall we went to see.)

I think most people can agree that there are few worse things in the world than drunk assholes. Whether it's at a sporting event, a bar, a wedding or a waterfall, drunk assholes always find a way to make something fun into something much less fun.

On my birthday, Huyen and I went to a waterfall outside of Buon Me Thuot. The waterfall was beautiful and there was another smaller waterfall nearby where people could swim. When we got to the smaller waterfall there were about fifteen teens (I'd say around 15-18 years old) swimming and picnicking/drinking. Out of those teens there were probably six guys who were pretty drunk and yes, acting like assholes.

(PICTURE: The swimming area/apparent outdoor bar.)

It was hot as hell out and all I wanted to do was swim. However, this one guy in particular was giving me a very bad vibe. He seemed like the kind of dickhead who would start a fight to impress his friends. And his friends seemed like the kind of dickheads who would be impressed and then join in the fun. My rationale side perked up (with a solid push from Huyen who quickly didn't want to swim anymore) and we got out of there in about five minutes. Yes, I'm man enough to admit that a teenager intimidated me.

I also must confess that I have a fear of dying on my birthday. You see, as a high school kid I went on a field trip to the New Jersey Vietnam War Memorial. I distinctly remember seeing two names on the wall of soldiers who died on their birthday. I remember thinking how terrible that would be and it has always stuck with me. Being in Vietnam, and this situation happening on my birthday, was a little extra incentive not to get into a fight with a gang of drunken teens.

I'm happy to report though that in three years, this was the first time I ever actually felt uncomfortable and in possible danger. Anyway, I hope that my loyal Ahoy Hanoi readers never act like these guys:

(PICTURE: Ironically it's the guy with the peace sign who seemed to want to stir trouble.)

The Best Coffee in Vietnam

2011-05-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Huyen inside the store. Notice the trophies in back.)

Huyen and I met up with Hien's cousin Yen in Buon Me Thuot. Yen took us around the city and showed us where to buy the "best coffee in Vietnam." The next day, Huyen and I went to the coffee store and watched as the owner made his secret blend of coffee using four different beans. On the wall of his shop was a trophy saying that indeed his coffee was the best in Vietnam. Even cooler though was a large plaque on the wall with a letter from General Giap congratulating the owner on being a former soldier who has excelled in business.

You can't actually try any coffee at the shop as it's not a cafe. We bought some bags of the coffee but haven't tried it yet as we're waiting to share them with Huyen's family. While we were in the store though, a cafe owner was also there buying big bags of the coffee. The owner explained to us that most good cafes in BMT use Huong Giang coffee and mix it with cheaper Trung Nguyen coffee, the most famous coffee brand in Vietnam.

(PICTURE: Grinding the secret mix.)

Coffee

2011-05-21T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: This cup of extremely strong drip coffee had no press, unlike everywhere else in Vietnam.)

For most of our drive through the Central Highlands, we were surrounded by two crops: rubber and coffee. I was never a coffee drinker before I came to Vietnam, but became converted pretty quickly over here. I'm not a caffeine addict by any means but simply love the taste of an iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk.

The most famous place in Vietnam for coffee is Buon Me Thuot. When you're there, it's pretty obvious why. Surrounding the city are fields upon fields of coffee. Heck, everyone we met seemed to have at least a couple of their own hectares of coffee. In the city are more coffee shops than anywhere else in Vietnam. Coffee has done well for BMT because it's pretty obvious that it's a very rich city.

That said, the best cup of coffee we had was a few hours north of BMT in Kon Tum. In Kon Tum we had a very strong drip coffee that had no press (picture above). Usually inside the top part of the coffee dripper is a press you can push to make the water go through the grinds faster. Here, they just had double the amount of grinds and nothing to rush the process. The coffee was great and very strong.

(PICTURE: There were coffee farms everywhere and even just random bushes wherever you would stop. This one was at a roadside rest stop we drank coconuts at.)

Dragon Fruit

2011-05-20T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A field of dragon fruit.)

One of my favorite parts of our trip was to see all of the changes in agriculture as we drove from the north to the south. Around the beach in Mui Ne were fields upon fields of dragon fruit. This is perhaps the most interesting fruit I've ever seen grow. Basically, the farmers erect a concrete pole in the field and then strap on some dragon fruit leaves. The leaves grow like vines around the pole and then sprout lots of fruit.

(PICTURE: The fruit sprouts at the end of the leaves.)

Huyen pointed out that it is so weird how such a moist fruit is grown in such a dry area. There seemed to be no water anywhere near the fields yet dragon fruit is always very juicy.

(PICTURE: A dragon fruit. One of the more interesting looking fruits in the world.)

My poor helmet

2011-05-19T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A reflection in Cao Bang.)

Nice picture, right?

Well, I thought so. That's why I stopped on top of a hill to take this shot. Per my usual picture inspired moment, I pulled over to the side of the road, removed my helmet, placed it on the side-view-mirror, and dug through my bag to find my camera. As soon as I removed the camera, I heard Huyen make some noise that sounded sort of like, "Whoooaaaahhhhhhh whoaahhh". What she was reacting to was my helmet falling off the mirror and rolling down a very steep hill into the water below:

(PICTURE: My helmet about thirty feet below us.)

There was no way to climb down to the water because it was extremely steep. The only place to get to the water level was about fifty yards downstream. I immediately gave up on the helmet and said that I would buy a new one in the town we were staying in. The road we were driving on was very back road and I decided I could make it thirty minutes without a helmet. However, my wife isn't a quitter like me. Huyen said we had to get the helmet since it was a very good helmet and we wouldn't be able to get another like it until we reached a major city. I agreed to give it a shot and went off to find a long stick. Huyen's plan was to throw rocks at the helmet and help guide it towards the river bank. As crazy as that sounds, it totally was working until it was about fifteen feet away. At that point it started to drift across the river...

...and that's when the only fisherman we saw all day came miraculously to our help. This guy was floating upstream on a bamboo raft and quickly turned course to get my helmet. You should have seen the look on this guy's face. Confusion would put it mildly. The guy kindly retrieved our helmet, gave us a wave and continued on his way.

(PICTURE: The fisherman getting my helmet.)

The helmet was drenched with water that didn't seem to be the cleanest. I drove back for about twenty minutes with no helmet on as to let it dry. Then when we got closer to the town and traffic, I put on the helmet without the drenched insides. That night we washed and dried the padding and it was practically good as new. However, throughout the trip, whenever I'd put the helmet on the bike, mosquitoes seemed to flock towards it. Maybe it was my shampoo...

Highway Rest Stops

2011-05-18T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Nothing like taking a driving break.)

You've got to give it to the Vietnamese, they know the true definition of a highway rest stop. Once you hit the center of the country, there's places all over the road that have hammocks waiting for you to take a little snooze. There's really no way to better ail a sore butt and back then to swing in a hammock for thirty minutes while downing a coconut.

Guilt

2011-05-17T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The Arlington of Vietnam.)

As an American, the hardest place to mentally travel through was the center of Vietnam. It seemed that every road we were on would have some monument or cemetery dedicated to those who died fighting America. It often seemed that the small the town, the more people who had died during the war.

On multiple occasions, Huyen and I were passed by vans filled with family members who had just recovered a body from the war. Furthermore, there were lots of roads we drove down that had bomb craters in the fields. One time on the road, there was a sign that warned people there were still land mines in the area. At another point, a woman told us that the area around us had all been doused with Agent Orange during the war.

Right around the DMZ line is a massive Army cemetery with over 10,000 people interred there who died fighting America. Huyen and I had stopped here to pay our respects and to see if by any chance her uncle's name was written anywhere. The cemetery was organized by provinces and we quickly found Ha Nam but couldn't find Huyen's uncle's name. We ended up going to the center of the cemetery, lighting some incense, placing some sticks on random graves and then leaving. It was pretty somber.

Warning: Beards scare children

2011-05-16T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A common reaction to my beard.)

The first time I met Viet Huong, my nephew, I learned an important lesson: Beards scare children in Vietnam. At that time, I had a solid scruff working, nothing compared to the full-on beard I've been sporting during the motorbike trip.

A lot of children have looked at me with pure puzzlement as if to say, "Why isn't that monkey behind bars at a zoo?" Some kids have even smiled at me and waved. However, those responses always change the second I get within five feet. Once I get close, well the fear starts. I can't tell you how many little kids cried on this trip because their mothers tried having them meet me.

The kid in the picture above was at a motorbike repair shop we stopped at to fix a flat tire. At first he was about ten feet away with his older sister. The two of them were staring at me, completely transfixed. I decided to go over and sell hello to them which got this little one absolutely wailing.

I just hope my one day half Vietnamese kids aren't petrified of daddy if he doesn't shave for a week or two!

VIP!

2011-05-15T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The owner of the restaurant who insisted we were VIPs.)

You may recall that I once wrote there's a funny saying about each province in Vietnam. My two favorites I wrote about in the past were for Hai Phong ("the most beautiful but meanest girls in Vietnam") and for Huyen's province Ha Nah ("9 sweet potatoes become 10 sweet potatoes" about people taking shits off bridges).

Well, I've got a new contender, Thanh Hoa. Thanh Hoa's catch phrase is, "An rau ma, pha duong tau." This translates to, "eat ma vegetable and destroy railroads." Apparently people in Vietnam think that those in Thanh Hoa are only good for those two things.

Well, I've got to disagree. When we pulled into a small town in Thanh Hoa, the locals completely laid out the welcome mat for us. Huyen and I strolled into a rice shop and before we knew it we were directed into the VIP room by the owner. Of course as soon as we sat down, we were given ma vegetable to eat. The VIP room had a nice fan and a heck of a lot of VIP flies. I'm 99% sure the owner threw us back there so that the other restaurant patrons would stop staring at us and eat their food so he could turn over their tables.

Nha Tro

2011-05-14T03:00:00.000-07:00

Back to the most bizarre day I've ever had in Vietnam...

(PICTURE: These two things being in the room should have been a sign that this wasn't an ordinary hotel.)

When leaving the village, Huyen was drunk and I felt the tiniest bit of a buzz. I don't like to drive if I've ever had more than one beer so immediately after getting off the dirt road, I pulled over to a little road stop to have a drink of water and some sugar cane juice. Huyen immediately started looking for something to eat and found a bag of chips that suited her appetite. I, on the other hand, started to down a bunch of liquid. Originally there were only three people at this snack shop and the husband couldn't stop talking to me. The guy was most likely drunk and kept saying, "I once saw a tall guy with a beard like you. He was from Cuba. But he was younger than you. Maybe 23." I think he repeated this about six or seven times.

Finally, two other dudes pulled up to the roadside shop and tried to practice their English. They spoke roughly three and a half words each. However, this didn't stop them from trying to speak more. Huyen started to translate and then said with slightly slurred speech, "Please don't make me translate for you right now." I laughed at this and decided it was time to get going especially since one of the new guys lit up a cigarette and was making no effort not to blow it in our face (this is very typical as people generally assume in Vietnam and especially in the countryside that nobody minds cigarette smoke).

So Huyen and I hopped back on the bike and drove to the nha tro in Pleiku (you may recall from two days ago that we had thrown our bags in a room and laundry in a machine before we set out for the hydroelectric plant). Well, when we pulled into the guest house, the owner came out and said, "I'm sorry, but you can't stay here. We're not registered for foreigners." Immediately something clicked in my brain: this was a whore house and not a hotel. You see, when we first came, I think they had assumed we were just going to have sex and leave. In fact, when we left for the dam, the woman came out and said, "Are you leaving now?". We had said no and took off to sight-see.

Frankly, this place was pretty gross even for our standards on this trip, so we said it was no problem. We agreed to pay the woman half of watch she originally asked for and then grabbed our bags and wet laundry. Naturally though, as soon as we got back on the bike, it started to rain. We then drove to the next hotel on the main street and were told that they were full. So we hopped on the bike again and went to the next hotel, a very nice establishment. The owner there too said they didn't allow foreigners. Now keep in mind, on our hole trip this had never happened to us. But in Pleiku it happened at the first three hotels we went to. Finally, we found a very nice hotel in the center of town and paid the second most we've ever paid for a hotel room.

As we checked into the room, I glanced at the clock and saw it was 2pm. So to recap, before 2pm we had nearly had a machine gun in our faces, got a private tour of a hydroelectric dam, drank rice wine with a bunch of drunken villagers and were thrown out of a whore house. And then, to top it all off, I checked my email and found out that our change of schedule the past week had been for naught since Linh's hometown was Pleiku and not Buon Me Thuot. What a day!

Rong House

2011-05-13T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A rong house.)

Before I continue the bizarre day story, let me just post about something I find personally pretty cool. In Hanoi is the Museum of Ethnology. In the back of the museum are a ton of different ethnic style houses. I've jokingly said more than a few times to people, "I don't believe any of those houses really exist outside of the museum." I mean, I had been to many minority villages and almost all of them had the same stilt house style. However, this minority tribe had one of the more unusual structures I've been in. We actually had seen quite a few Rong houses while driving around the Central Highlands but this was the only one we were invited into:

(PICTURE: Huyen and the elder in front of the Rong House.)

The town elder told us that the guys usually meet in the house about once a month to drink. Naturally women aren't invited in. If a woman decides to show up, well, she's got to pay a penalty which is usually either a pig or a buffalo.

(PICTURE: The elder showing us how the roof is made.)

Rice Wine and Pig Food

2011-05-12T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: It was all fun and games until I had to drink two times!)

With the town elder leading the way, Huyen and I climbed up to the porch of a stilt house and joined about fifteen guys who were all boozing pretty hard. There's was a large jug of rice wine to the side and bottles of beer in almost everyone's hands (including a teenager or two). Immediately the scene was a tad bit uncomfortable because clearly everyone was wasted. The only other girl there besides Huyen was the town elder's wife. We asked where all the women were and they explained that the women worked the fields every day while the men drank. With seemingly pride, they told us about a guy who had recently died because I drank wine for 48 straight hours.

And with that story, they invited me to drink from their rice jug. Every part of me wanted to turn this down because the local hygiene seemed to be lacking, but my sense of adventure trumped my sense of logic. I quickly found myself sucking on a long straw and downing pretty potent rice wine. After about ten seconds, I smiled and said I was finished. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. They then pointed at a bamboo stick on top of the rice jug and said I could finish until the wine was below the bottom of the stick. I was already about halfway there and began to chug some more. I would estimate it was about 8 ounces worth of rice wine. When I finished this time everyone smiled and said, "Okay, now you have to do it again. We've already all done it twice." I think at this point I rolled my eyes internally and agreed to be hazed a little more. While they were reloading the rice wine, they handed Huyen a bowl of food and told her to try it. Huyen agreed and had a bite or two. It was clearly what everyone had been eating but still it felt like a practical joke. Later Huyen would tell me that she's pretty sure what she ate was the same stuff people usually feed their pigs with (I'm not trying to make fun of these people who were gracious enough to invite us to join them. I'm just stating a fact; a fact that happened to us before when we went on a trek a couple years ago. There the people told us that we were eating the same food they feed their pigs with and that they eat too.).

(PICTURE: Huyen eating the pig food.)

When Huyen finished her two spoonfuls, the locals asked her if she wanted to try the wine. Huyen agreed but said she just wanted a sip. The locals didn't agree with this and said she had to drink one time below the bamboo stick. Now, if you're a loyal reader or have met Huyen in person, SHE IS NOT A GOOD DRINKER. After just a little sip she immediately started to turn red. After finishing (which took a solid five minutes) she was downright drunk as a skunk...which made the rest of the afternoon that much more interesting...

(PICTURE: D-R-U-N-K.)

The Cemetery

2011-05-11T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: This is a Gia Rai cemetery, not a village.)

It took us a little while to find the ethnic village because it was down a dirt road and everyone we asked pointed us in a different direction. As soon as we rolled into the village, we met two women. We asked the women if we could drive around and they seemed pretty confused. Vietnamese isn't their native tongue but we did understand is that we were talking in front of the house of the village elder. We looked over at the village elder who was sitting on a porch with a bunch of dudes who were all drinking rice wine.

(PICTURE: This carving means a married couple is buried in this shelter...with about thirty of their other relatives.)

I know that we're supposed to ask permission from the village elder before going anywhere but we decided that we'd just take a peak around the corner to see if there was anything worth bothering the guy about while he was drinking. So we drove about 100 yards and came upon a very very very creepy cemetery. Immediately I recalled reading about this type of cemetery where they carve wooden human figures in front of mass graves. Huyen and I both looked at each other simultaneously and said, "Lets go ask permission to be here."

(PICTURE: The town elder in the middle.)

We rode back to the elder's house and Huyen asked if we could look around. The elder was confused why we were there and went and fetched a piece of paper from his house. The paper was a permit from a past foreigner who had come to the village. The elder explained that we could get in trouble with the police for being there without a permit. This was not surprising news as it specifically says in Lonely Planet that Pleiku is the hardest place to visit minority tribes for this very reason. However, with a little sweet talking, we paid the elder and he agreed to show us around.

He took us back to the cemetery and explained the process of burying people. To be buried in a shelter, you need to ask permission long before you die. The people buried are buried pretty shallow; I think just about a three feet or so under the ground. Each person who is buried there has their own wine jug. You can tell how many people are buried in a shelter by the amount of jugs:

(PICTURE: This grave had over forty people in it.)

When we finished the tour, the elder invited us for a drink. And yup, things got weirder...

Hydroelectric Dam

2011-05-10T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Huyen and our tour guide/ticket seller inside the hydroelectric dam.)

Huyen had heard about a hydroelectric dam 30K outside of Pleiku that was open to tourists. When we finished at the army base, we threw our bags (and laundry) into a room at a Nha Tro (cheaper than a Nha Nghi!) and drove out to the dam. When we arrived, something was slightly amiss -- we were the only tourists there! We strolled up to the front gate where there were four people. Two of the people were security guards and two were apparently ticket sellers. One of the ticket sellers asked me for my passport and then examined it for a solid five minutes. The guys told us that if we wanted to see the dam, we had to pay an entrance fee ($2) and also hire a taxi ($12.50) to take us out to the dam since we weren't allowed to drive our motorbike there. We agreed and the ticket guy called up a taxi. When the taxi arrived, the ticket seller jumped in the car and said he was gonna personally give us a tour since he wasn't too busy.

The car pulled through the front gate and immediately drove across the giant dam. The ticket seller sat shotgun and told us that we could ask him any questions about the place. My first question was, "How many people work here?" The answer was, "That's a secret." So much for any question!

The taxi drove about 6km to the entrance of a tunnel into the mountain. We got dropped off and began to walk through the tunnel:

(PICTURE: Huyen and I in the middle of the tunnel.)

As we neared the end of the tunnel, I saw a very unusual sign in Vietnam -- a no smoking sign. The ticket seller told us not to smoke...and less than ten seconds later, we saw the only worker in the tunnel smoking! The guy seemed equally surprised to see us in the tunnel as we did to see him puffing on a cigarette.

The tour guide then showed us the turbines and told us a lot about the dam:

(PICTURE: Huyen and me in front of the first turbine.)

This dam is the second largest hydroelectric dam in Vietnam. However, there's another under construction that will put this one at #3 in the near future. He showed us the pipes and explained the process of how hydroelectricity works. Just like in high school science, I was lost.

At the end of the tour, having seen nobody else, I asked the ticket seller how many tourists come every year. He thought to himself for a few seconds and said, "About 40,000." I'm not sure if this was a little bit of an exaggeration or if the weekends are super busy!

Being inside of a dam was very very cool. The whole time I got the feeling that I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. Although I also had a feeling I was like James Bond, discovering some sinister plot inside of a mountain.

Right when we were about to leave, the tour guide told us to go visit an ethnic village not far from the dam. We took him up on his suggestion...and that's when the day really got weird...

Army Base

2011-05-09T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Vietnamese soldiers.)

After seeing a family recover a loved one's body in Dien Bien Phu, Huyen and I were inspired to do more to find her uncle. Huyen started working the phone and calling office after office. After many many many calls -- which usually went like this: "I'm sorry, that section of Cambodia isn't this office" or "We don't have that information in this office" -- we finally had a lead. Coincidentally, the person Huyen talked with was in Pleiku, the next city we were planning on stopping in. The man on the phone told us to come to his office the next day to talk with him. He gave Huyen his address and we said we'd be there.

This call happened on a Thursday when we were in Kon Tum. Originally we had planned to do a trek and a homestay here but we canceled that to be able to meet the officer. We figured we would do a trek and a homestay instead in Buon Me Tuot since it now looked like we would be arriving early for Linh's wedding (see yesterday's post).

So the next morning we woke up at 6AM and did the short drive to the man's office. Well, it turned out his "office" was a Vietnamese army base just outside of Pleiku. We pulled up to the main gate and the armed guard look surprised to see us. Actually surprised isn't the right word. I'd go with startled. The guy took a firm grasp of his MACHINE GUN and said in Vietnamese, "Turn off your bike and take off your mask." As you might have noticed over the years, my Vietnamese blows. Huyen translated this for me and I quickly followed orders.

The guard's startled look soon turned to one of confusion as Huyen explained why we were there. Clearly, this was not a normal thing. The guy was bumbling around for answers when a large SUV pulled up. Inside was the bases general who wanted answers ASAP. The guard told him we were here to talk to someone about recovering Huyen's uncle's body and the general told him to let us in.

At this point, Huyen took the motorbike and drove it about 100 yards to a small office. I was on foot and not sure what exactly to do. I started walking towards Huyen -- I should mention I'm carrying a large backpack at this point which makes me look extra conspicuous -- but quickly got glances from the guard (yes, the one with the machine gun) who didn't seem to be happy that I was walking away from him. I sort of stopped in my tracks because in the distance I saw Huyen enter an office (we need to work on our communication sometimes). I was now standing on a path between a row of TANKS and ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUNS. One thought began to run through my mind: "We're probably not supposed to be here."

After another minute, Huyen came out of the office and fetched me. I walked towards her and right pass a small group of soldiers practicing marching. Now if you're like me, you imagine that all marching soldiers keep a stern, focused look on their faces at all times when they're marching. Well, not these guys. As soon as they saw me, their marching because completely out of synch and their faces said everything. To a man, they must have been thinking, "What the fuck is this guy doing here?"

Huyen and I ended up sitting in a room for twenty minutes talking to officer after officer until the guy who told us to come there showed up. One dude looked at my passport for ten minutes and then asked me, "Where are you from?" I wanted to say, "Dude, what the fuck have you been looking at in my passport for ten minutes if you haven't figured out where I'm from yet?" Instead I just said, "America." Nothing like telling a bunch of Vietnam war-aged army guys that you're an American.

Anyway, after talking with the officer from the phone we seemed to make a little progress. We gave him a very rough map that the army sent Huyen's family after her uncle was killed. The officer took it and said he would call the man in charge of recovering bodies in the part of Cambodia where Huyen's uncle died. Thus far we haven't heard anything back. However, we've got the guy's number so we're gonna call him soon.

Machine gun nearly to the face, interrupting marching soldiers...this was all before 9AM...and the bizarre day was just getting started...

Linh's Wedding

2011-05-08T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The newlywed.)

First off, a big congratulations to my friend and former Vietnamese teacher Linh on getting married. Unfortunately, I wasn't there to celebrate with her and here's why:

At some point around the second week of our trip, I sent Linh a message saying, "I'm going to be in your hometown soon. Can I say hi to your family?" Linh wrote me back saying, "I'm getting married in my hometown on April 26th. Can you come?" I texted Linh asking where exactly her wedding was going to be and she wrote back "in my hometown." I was 99% sure that Linh's hometown was Buon Ma Tuot which we weren't planning on being in until about April 30th. However, I didn't want to miss Linh's wedding so we altered our plans, did a little more driving every day and got to Buon Me Tuot on April 22nd. Great, right?! Yeah, not so much. When we were in Pleiku, the city before Buon Me Tuot, Linh sent me an email with the exact address of the wedding....which was in Pleiku, her real hometown.

I'm an absolute moron because I mixed up my two first Vietnamese friends, Linh and Hien's hometowns. This meant we were in Linh's hometown five days before her wedding. The problem now was we had just done a whirlwind tour of Pleiku and there was basically nothing left to see which meant five days of sitting around waiting for the wedding. Furthermore, I learned of my geography mistake about four hours after my MOST BIZARRE DAY IN VIETNAM had come to a close. The details of that day will be the subject of the next few blog entries.

Sadly we weren't gonna be able to join Linh's wedding. Instead, we went to her father's shop and dropped of a present. So here's a tip people: Find out exactly where your friends' weddings are before you drive like a madman to get to them!

Three Years

2011-05-07T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: This is how we've been sitting for 4-8 hours ever day, for five weeks!)

The other day I was wearing my bar mitzvah t-shirt (yes, I still wear my bar mitzvah t-shirt) and Huyen said, "Your Bar Mitzvah was May 2nd? That's the day we met." I'm not sure if this ever occurred to me, but yes, Huyen and I met exactly 16 years after my bar mitzvah. Last week being the anniversary of when I became a man, meant a little something extra since it was also three years from the day that Huyen and I met -- clearly a lot of great things have happened since then.

While riding together on the motorbike, I had a thought: this trip is the ultimate relationship test. Over the past five weeks, 95% of the time, Huyen and I have been physically less than a foot apart from each other. Seriously less than a foot. I mean when we're not inches apart from each other on the motorbike we're either eating next to each other or sleeping together in bed. The only time we've been apart has been during a couple of mornings when I had to do some work and Huyen ran an errand or two. Now think about that for a second, do you know any couple -- excluding perhaps people who work together and share a small office space -- who have ever continuously spent that much time together? I'm not trying to one-up anyone but it occurred to me that I've never been in such close proximity to ANYONE, EVER. And somehow we've managed not to have any fights! Well, at least not anything more than small squabbles over directions!

Roadside Noodles

2011-05-06T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Noodles drying on the side of the road.)

I always heard people in Vietnam saying how different the north, center and south are but you really get a sense of it when you're physically going through all the regions. One of the coolest things on our trip was seeing/eating all of the different food around Vietnam. Even something so simple as noodles varies in all of the different regions. For example, the cut and texture of pho isn't the same in every province. And don't even get me (or really Huyen) started on the broth!

The picture above was taken while driving through a small city in the center of Vietnam. As intersting as it was to see the noodles drying, it also turned my stomach a little since this was one of the dirtier roads we traveled on in that region. Ever time a truck went by and its fumes poured out of its tailpipe, I thought to myself, "eating that can't be that healthy."

Bin Laden

2011-05-05T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: HCMC newspaper the morning after OBL was killed.)

I know the whole world has been waiting with bated breath for Ahoy Hanoi's take on the recent killing of Bin Laden so here it is:

Regarding celebrations: When I saw the news the other night, I basically jumped out of my chair. I wished there were some Americans around so I could slap someone five. When I watched the news though I started getting mixed feelings about how people were celebrating. I loved all of the patriotic stuff of people coming together, singing "God Bless America", etc. Those things were awesome. However, the news was also showing some people who seemed to be using OBL's death as just a reason to party. There was one college jackass on TV who said, "I've got two finals tomorrow but I don't care. We got Osama!". The thing is, I'm 99% sure that anyone who lost a loved one on 9/11 wasn't out getting hammered.

The other thing that put me at unease was everyone who was saying "We won!". I'm sorry, but we didn't win anything. We got justice and for that I applaud and feel proud. However, there's sadly no winning the war against terrorism as this is something that we are going to have to deal with probably all of our lifetimes.

(PICTURE: The fake death picture printed in the newspaper. The caption says "OBL dead and OBL alive." )

Regarding not releasing the photo: I 100% agree with Obama's decision today. Yesterday it seemed as if the White House was gonna release the photo and it sort of upset me. Frankly, what's the point? You see, here in Vietnam, OBL's death photo is all over the cover of every newspaper. Yes of course it is the fake one but people here don't know that -- at least the one's who I asked. Huyen was reading the newspaper and I had to say to her that the photo was fake. She sort of just shrugged her shoulders because she still knew BIN LADEN IS DEAD which is the main point. Do we really need a photo to prove that? I just think there's a lot more negatives than positives to releasing the photo. But heck, based on polls I know I'm in the minority on this.

Other thoughts:
1. I pray that the information the SEALS took with them leads us to find/capture/kill every single terrorist prick who ever associated with OBL.
2. Thank goodness the SEALS killed OBL. It would have been a nightmare to see OBL put on trial where he could spew his poisonous ideology in front a worldwide audience.
3. How fucking cool are the SEALS? I'm pretty sure every man in the United States had a moment yesterday where they questioned their life choices. Personally, I've been thinking for two days now how I made some wrong choices to not end up a Navy Seal...but then I read about some of the stuff they have to do to become a SEAL and I'm 100% sure I would have dropped out in the first week because I'm not tough enough.
4. Is it just me, or is anyone else imagining any Iraqi people who were scratching their heads yesterday saying, "Okay, uh, so when do we get to kill the man whose ideology caused tens of thousands of our people to be killed?" Bush, like Osama, gets to sit pretty in his million dollar home while other people go to the battlefield and do his dirty work. Maybe it's because I've been living out of the country since Bush's term but I still consider him and his lackeys war criminals. These guys lied to cause us to go to war in Iraq where not only tens of thousands of Iraqis have been killed but more Americans have died there than were killed on 9/11.

Final thought:

I applaud all of the people who worked tirelessly to get Osama Bin Laden. It was a long process but we never gave up and justice was served. However, there's still a lot of work to be done to make sure that another 9/11 never happens again.

Sometimes a man has to squat too...

2011-05-04T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: The bathroom at one of our non-star guest houses we stayed at.)

I got a few emails recently from friends and readers offering to pay for a nice hotel for Huyen and me. I just want to clarify something: Huyen and I don't say, "Hey, lets find the grossest guest house so it'll make a good blog." The thing is, we've been driving in the back country where places to stay are few and far between. We feel lucky when we pull up to a place that lets us crash for the night. Well, perhaps lucky isn't exactly the right word.

I'll have a few more guest house stories the next time I download pictures. However, the other night we stayed in one -- which was buggy but otherwise not too bad -- and the owner of the place said to us the next morning, "You aren't traveling with a tent? Many foreigners travel with a tent." It didn't even occur to me to travel with a tent although I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have been legal...however, the idea is definitely intriguing if we ever do this again!

Anyway, people, I appreciate the hotel present offers but I promise that if we ever have a choice between a room with a used condom on the floor and one without, we'll take the one without.

Filthy

2011-05-03T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: I didn't take this picture but I did see FOUR tires on the beach!)

There's a Vietnamese saying: "To find a tourist spot, follow the trail of trash." With an idiom like that, it's almost like the Vietnamese take pride in littering. I'm gonna have another blog in the future about trash in Vietnam, so this one is only about the trash at Mui Ne beach.

Three years ago I came here and wrote that the water was pretty dirty. Well since I came, Mui Ne has turned into a multi billion dollar resort town. We talked with a tour guide here who told us that there are probably 80% more hotels, restaurants, shops, etc. then when I first came. Honestly, I could barely recognize the place when we pulled into town because of all the lights and resorts.

On our first two ventures out to the beach, Huyen and I saw a considerable amount of trash on the beach. It was significant enough that a little kid was walking the beach, filling a garbage bag with plastic bottles he could redeem for money; his bag was full. Despite this, Huyen and I still took a dip in the ocean. Yesterday though, was the tipping point. It's Indipendance weekend here which means there are A LOT of HCMC people in town. Every single hotel on the beach side is sold out. When we went to the beach yesterday it was covered in trash. We took a few steps into the ocean and had plastic bags wrap around our feet. Frankly, it was fucking vile.

The thing is though, the trashing isn't just from the tourists. The locals are just as guilty. Huyen and I went to a local seafood place next to the ocean and we literally saw restuarant patrons throw multiple pieces of trash into the ocean. And it's not just the public beaches, either. Yesterday we went to the beach behind two four star resorts. This beach was pretty empty compared to the others and it was still covered in trash.

I've said it before and I'll say it again -- if you are coming to Vietnam for the beaches change your plans! Sure, there's a couple beaches here and there that aren't garbage dumps but really, it's only a matter of time.

Red Light, Green Light, No Light...

2011-05-02T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A roundabout in Da Lat. This is clearly an old picture I found online because there are A LOT more cars/bikes/buses these days.)

Right now we're in Da Lat, one of my favorite cities in Vietnam. This is my second time here but my first time noticing something -- there are NO TRAFFIC LIGHTS in the city. When I came here in 2008, I wasn't yet riding a motorbike so I guess I didn't pay attention to small things like traffic lights. Now that I'm on a bike, it's hard not to notice the lack of lights.

I did some quick googling and it turns out Da Lat is the 20th largest city in Vietnam. I had thought it was probably top 10 but apparently it's not. According to another google search I did, Boston is the 20th largest city in America (based on population). Can you imagine if Boston didn't have any traffic lights? Frankly, I can't even imagine if my hometown didn't have any traffic lights.

A local told us that since the city is very hilly, people used to not be able to stop when going downhill and thus there were no red lights. Instead, they have a ton of roundabouts at major intersections.

While I was thinking about this blog today, it occurred to me that I hadn't seen any accidents in Da Lat...but sure enough, a minute later there were two motorbikes at roundabout, fresh off a minor accident.

Tire Patch

2011-05-01T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Tire patches.)

I admit that I know nothing about cars. I've read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and I can also state that I don't know a thing about motorcycles or motorbikes for that matter. One thing I've found interesting out here though is that when you pop your inner tube, you don't necessarily need a new one. In fact, most of the time you just get a tire patch. The process of fixing a tire goes something like this:
1. The mechanic finds the hole, often using a bowl of water to see where the air bubbles come out.
2. He files the hole.
3. He puts a tire patch on the hole and does some more filing.
4. He burns the patch a little bit.
5. He files more with a machine.
6. He fills the tire up with air and you're on your way.

Despite having trust in the mechanic who patched our tire, we got a new tire a few days later just to be on the safe side!

Flat Tire

2011-04-30T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Getting our tire fixed.)

I woke up one morning and said to Huyen, "I had a dream last night that we had a flat tire." Huyen promptly told me to not to tell her that...which confused me because after a bad dream a few nights earlier, she told me that it's good when you have a bad dream since it means it won't come true.

Well, this dream came true. About an hour after leaving Mai Chau, our tire popped. We got really lucky because: a) We were on a straight road and not a curvy mountain road. b) We certainly weren't in the middle of nowhere but we towns were few and far between. However, we happen to have just driven through one so it was only a two minute walk to the shop. c) We were fine.

Prior to the tire popping we had been filling our tires every morning with air. We had even replaced the inner tire two days before at a Honda shop just to be on the safe side. Well, the new tire clearly wasn't as good as the old one since it lasted just 48 hours before popping. Every day since, we've filled up with air before taking off for the day.

I fought the law...and I won

2011-04-29T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: It's hard to speed when these guys are on the road.)

In twelve years of driving in America, I was only pulled over 1 time. In the first fourteen days of our motorbike trip, Huyen and I were pulled over 4 times. Yes, 4 times! Seriously, what's up with that?

The first time I was apparently speeding but the cop let me go when he saw I was a foreigner.

The second time, we came around a mountain bend and were pulled over by a cop who was checking everyone. As soon as he saw me he laughed and let me go. I think they were doing license/breathalyzer checks on the ethnic minority people since we were in the middle of nowhere.

The third time was without a doubt the funniest. Huyen and I drove by a bunch of cops on our way to a small city. About a minute later though the road sign said we were on the wrong road. So we turned around and I immediately said to Huyen, "I bet you the cops pull me over." Sure enough, they pulled me over for speeding again. The cop wrote on his hand 40/45 meaning I was going 45 in a 40KMP zone. He got on his radio, talked with some other cops (who I could see across the road), made some foreigner comments and then let me go.

The fourth time I was pulled over for another routine check in a middle of nowhere spot. Once again the cop let me go after I showed him my license.

Huyen and I have come to really enjoy these stops. The best part about them is that Huyen is sitting on the back of the bike with her helmet, sunglasses and mask on so the cops have no idea she is Vietnamese. If they did, I'm sure we wouldn't have gotten off without a fine each time. Seriously, no fines! I feel like a hot chick in America!

Would you like the room with hot water or the one with a used condom?

2011-04-28T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: A used condom and dirty underwear. This was the good room.)

On the map we're using, there's supposedly a way to tell if there's a place to stay in a town or not. If there's a broken underline under the town name, there's at least one nha nghi (guest house). If there's a solid line then there's supposedly many. For the most part this has been true but since the map is six years old, there's generally a few extra places along the way with places to stay.

Well, Huyen and I were taking a very very back road and came to the last town on a map for probably 200km with a guest house. The problem is that it was still sort of early (4:30PM) and we hadn't driven much that day since we did a lot of sightseeing. We decided to press our luck and keep driving, thinking there must be something along the way. Wellllll, naturally there wasn't for hours. By the time we found a place to stay, we were right near the Lao border and had been driving along a mountain pass in the dark for nearly an hour and a half. There were literally bats flying around us and thousands of insects hitting our shields because they were attracted to our headlight.

When we found the nha nghi, we couldn't have felt luckier. The place had two rooms. We were told that only one had hot water so we took that one. That room was next to a large pile of garbage. Inside the room, there were THOUSANDS of bugs. I don't know if it was because of the garbage or because of the rotting wooden door frame but there were termites everywhere! We did our best to kill all the bugs but it was an uphill battle. While I was taking my shower (which was not hot!) I killed two bugs which must have been stink bugs because all of a sudden there was a noxious smell in the room. Huyen started to feel sick and between the bugs on our sheet, we decided it was best to change rooms.

The other room had no obvious bugs except for a few mosquitoes. However, this was just about 48 hours removed from the centipede incident so I moved the bed away from the wall to see if there were any killer insects there. Sure enough there was something lethal looking on the wall. Huyen grabbed a broom from the garbage room and killed the bug (yes, Huyen, not me. God my wife is awesome!).

After that bug was killed, we noticed something else lethal under the bed: a used condom and dirty underwear. Yup, that was the good room!

The girls who ran the place (and perhaps had shared in the condom use as this could easily have been a brothel) were not happy when we changed rooms at 10PM. To make it up to them we ended up voluntarily paying them an extra $1, which they were very happy about. So yes, I paid EXTRA money for this experience.

Eat Shit

2011-04-27T03:00:00.000-07:00

Huyen and I were driving down a country road and came upon a bunch of stands selling cucumbers. I randomly pulled over at this one:

While Huyen was buying cucumbers, the woman under the umbrella came over to me and offered me a cut up cucumber. I said "Thank you" and the woman repeated, "Thank you." She then walked over to the woman with the white scarf and said in Vietnamese, "I just said thank you but I don't know what it means." The woman with the white scarf turned to her friend and said, "You said thank you? That means to eat shit!"

I thought that was pretty funny...but while typing this, I wonder if the first woman had thought I told her to eat shit because I didn't want her free cucumber (although in reality I did want it and ate it).

Everyone's knows I'm horrendous at Vietnamese. Well, it's nice to have a translator with me to be able to experience some of these little things I couldn't experience on my own.

A Reason To Wear Sandals

2011-04-26T03:00:00.000-07:00

Right before we took off from our Mai Chau stilt house, I decided to use the bathroom one more time. While walking back from the toilet I saw this:

This centipede was very colorful and definitely caught my attention...thankfully. I called over to the son of the homeowner and he looked very concerned. He immediately got a bottle and smashed the insect. I called over Huyen, who was by the bike, and showed her what I found. Huyen told me that this insect is VERY POISONOUS and confirmed with the homeowner that if a person gets stung by it, they're most likely a goner.

Considering that the centipede was under where I had slept AND next to where I ate AND where I had walked back and forth from like twenty times, I'm just glad I wasn't barefoot!

Bear Bile

2011-04-25T03:00:00.000-07:00

I've written in the past about the horrendous process of extracting bile from bears. I've been told -- and written about before -- that people actually have bears in cages in Hanoi and extract the bile in the city. Supposedly a pint of the bile can cost thousands of dollars because people think it's the ultimately medicine for some ailments. Anyway, Huyen and I were driving up a mountain and there was only one restaurant open. While waiting for our food, we saw this sign on the wall advertising bear bile:

I'm hoping that since the sign was partially ripped, that they don't sell bear bile anymore. I didn't see any in the shop and didn't hear any growling bears so I'm gonna think on the positive sign and assume it was just decoration to go along with the mountain theme of the location.

Happy Brithday To Me!

2011-04-24T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Huyen and me in the mountains. Enlarge the picture and you'll see homes on the slopes of that mountain.)

It's my birthday today. I'm 32! Yikes!

I'm pre-writing this blog so I'm not exactly sure where I'm at at the moment. However, I'm pretty sure that I'm very happy being wherever I am. There's not many cooler things you can do on your birthday than to be on a motorbike trip in Vietnam with your amazing wife.

32 is definitely going to be an interesting age for me. There's lots of big things in store between moving to America, finding a new job, deciding on a place to live and doing my darnedest to make sure Huyen is as happy as possible every single day. I know it's not going to be an easy age, but I think it'll be one I can always look back on as a crossroads in my life.

Have a birthday beer for me tonight!

Nail Clippers Anyone?

2011-04-23T03:00:00.000-07:00

Huyen and I were having some bike trouble the other day and stopped at a shop to get our brake tightened. The shop owner had slightly long fingernails and I asked if I could take a picture with him. Can you guess which hand is mine:

For the record, he has been growing his nails for 5-6 months.

Fog

2011-04-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

As anyone who came on my honeymoon can attest, sometimes there's a lot of fog in Vietnam. During the honeymoon, our bus went up a narrow mountain road with a visibility of about twenty feet. Well, Huyen and I had a solid four days with significant driving in fog. It made for some tense hours especially when we thought about:
a) How high up we were
b) The occasional guard rail that was broken and had clearly been broken by a vehicle that went off the edge
c) The people who were used to the fog and were flying along the mountain as if it was no big deal.

Mom, don't worry, I drove with my headlight on and honked my horn roughly every five seconds. I've got some great video to show the fog but the internet connection isn't great here so I can only load a picture (I finally borrowed a wire and can upload some pictures!).

So, movie buffs, what film does this picture remind you of:

One hint: Tell them Large Marge sent you.

Mai Chau

2011-04-21T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Huyen and me in Mai Chau on our first honeymoon.)

As I'm typing this, I'm lying on the floor of a stilt house in Mai Chau. Huyen and I just finished our eleventh day of this trip and couldn't be happier to be here.

We went for a walk this afternoon through the rice fields and were reminiscing about the amazing time we had four months ago with all of our visiting wedding guests. I've got to say that I feel a little emotional here as I've had many memorable experiences in these stilt houses. I first came here on a motorcycle trip with my cousin Justin about two and a half years ago. Next I came here with my good friends Long and Nicky -- both now departed from Hanoi -- during our Tet Trip when we got detained close to the Lao border. Then almost exactly a year ago I came here with Huyen for my birthday. Right before coming here I had bought our engagement ring and then proposed the following week. Then the last time I came here was with twenty four friends and family who came out for our wedding. When we arrived here we had been married for less than 48 hours. And now, we're here because we're saying goodbye to Vietnam in this very special way.

Mai Chau will always have a special place in my heart.

Recovering a body

2011-04-20T03:00:00.000-07:00

After visiting the cemetery and Dien Bien Phu Museum, Huyen and I went to A1 Hill where the French put up their last stand against the Vietnamese. While looking at the bunkers and the giant crater set off off by three Vietnamese martyrs, a procession started to pass in front of us. Huyen cried out, "They found a body." I actually thought they were having a picnic since they were carrying food and a giant jug of water. Well, I was wrong.

Immediately Huyen took off and joined the group and started to ask a man some questions. Trailing the group was an old woman who was carrying two bags. After Huyen talked to the man she learned that the family had just unearthed their relative after fifty nine years! As she started to tell me this, I saw the old woman struggling with her bags and asked if she wanted helped. Huyen and I took the bags of this woman who turned out to be the daughter of the unearthed soldier.

The story we were told is that the woman's father was killed at A1 hill in 1952. Only one member of his squad survived and he had told the family to go to the hill and they could find his body. First though, the family consulted a psychic (very common practice here) who communicated with the dead and told the family to find two trees and to walk seven meters forward from them and dig. They followed the psychic's orders and it turns out there were bones and teeth right there, under the ground.

The cynic in me says that you can probably dig up almost anywhere near this hill and find a body. However, on this day I truly wanted to believe that this was their family member especially after Huyen's emotional moment earlier in the morning. I think seeing this family find their loved one has given us more hope that one day we can find Huyen's uncle's body.

(PICTURE: The crater set off by three Vietnamese soldiers carrying a bomb into a French bunker.)

Dien Bien Phu Cemetery

2011-04-19T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: Nameless headstones.)

Huyen and I went to the Dien Bien Phu cemetery where thousands of Vietnamese soldiers are buried. About 95% of the headstones do not have names on them because they are not sure who is buried in each tomb. I took some pictures -- but yes, my camera wire is still not working -- of some headstones where family members had carved into the back the name of the person who was buried underneath. We asked a worker at the cemetery about this and they said that even the tombs with names might not be correct as this is where psychics told family members that their loved one was buried.

When we left the cemetery, Huyen began to sob. I've never seen her cry so strongly and it really affected me. Between her tears she said that she hates that her uncle's body has till not been found and buried in his home land. For those of you who are new readers, Huyen's uncle was killed by the Americans somewhere in Cambodia. We've contacted some agencies in Vietnam about helping to recover his body but so far its been fruitless. This is definitely something we need to try harder at because it means so much to Huyen and her family.

Nha Nghi

2011-04-18T03:00:00.000-07:00

Every night, Huyen and I have been staying in Nha Nghi's which translates into "rest house" but everyone refers to as "guest houses". In Hanoi -- as I've blogged before -- these are placed people go to have sex. However, in small towns they are basically the only hotel options. On average, a nha nghi costs about $7.50 a night to stay and has a fan and hot water. The sheets can be a little bit sketchy so Huyen and I have brought our own sheet to use every night.

Some of the highlights from our first week of nha nghis are:
1. The first place had someone's NAIL CLIPPINGS on the bed! Yeah, gross.
2. The second place had about twenty varieties of spiders in the bathroom. One spider was just like this one.
3. Someone was burning garbage next door and the fumes were blown almost directly into our room.
4. The power was cut off in the morning and we had no windows with natural light. I'm pretty sure we didn't leave anything in the room.
5. The bathroom door at one was about 4.5 feet high...and yes, I slammed my head into it.
6. A crazy person literally came into the nha nghi (he was friends with the owner and that's how they described him when they said, "Don't worry about him, he's crazy.") and kept using the toilet next to our room. He hacked up about twenty lugies and would often stop in front of our door and assumingly listen in. We could see him because the door was frosted glass.
7. For three nights in a row we had dead mosquitoes and dead spiders on our sheets when we came into the room at three different places!

And that's after one week! More fun stories to come!

Asking Directions

2011-04-17T03:00:00.000-07:00

Let me say this: I have no shame in asking directions. In fact, perhaps I ask for directions too often on this trip. Huyen and I are using an extremely detailed Vietnamese book of maps this is put out every 10 years. The version we have is already seven years old though which means there are a lot of new roads that aren't on the map.

One of the things I wrote about at the beginning of this blog is how people in China would point you in a direction even if they were clueless as to where you wanted to go. It's all about saving face there. In Vietnam, they don't seem to care about not having a clue where you want to go. Whenever we ask for directions we usually get one of these responses:
1. Why do you want to go there?
2. I don't know how to get there.
3. Oh, you shouldn't take a back road. Stick to the big road and go that way.
4. Where are you from and what do you do? (seriously, they just start asking us questions)

My favorite response though came about a week ago when we were on some very back roads near the border with China. We stopped in the middle of nowhere and asked an old man who was sitting under a shack with his grandchildren near a fork in the road. Turning left at the fork looked pretty perilous and turning right looked like a nice smooth road. Here's how the conversation went:
HUYEN: Excuse me, which way should we turn to see Ho Chi Minh's cave?
OLD MAN: Why are you going this way?
HUYEN: We wanted to take a back road.
OLD MAN: This is very out of the way.
HUYEN: Okay, which way should we turn.
OLD MAN: Go left, right goes to the shit.
HUYEN: What is the shit.
OLD MAN: China.

We turned left.

Nguom Ngao Cave

2011-04-16T03:00:00.000-07:00

Around the corner from Ban Gioc Waterfall is Nguom Ngao Cave, one of the biggest caves in Vietnam.

Huyen and I ventured into the cave which used to serve as a hiding place for Vietnamese soldiers when they had a border war with China in the 1970s. The cave was pretty spectacular and unlike other Vietnamese caves (cough cough Halong Bay) isn't cheesily lit up with Christmas lights. There were lots of cool things in the cave but this video shows the upside down lotus flower:

I've got some cool photos from in the cave but alas, my camera wire still isn't working!

Ban Gioc Watefall

2011-04-15T03:00:00.000-07:00

Our first destination was Ban Gioc waterfall in the northeast of Vietnam. Ban Gioc is on the border with China and is the 4th largest border waterfall in the world (yeah, I didn't know that statistic existed either). The waterfall was spectacular and extremely cool because you could take a bamboo raft right out to the falls. What was even cooler though was edging right up to the Chinese border and waving at Chinese tourists. We were literally about two feet from four Chinese twenty somethings at one point. I don't know why I find this so bizarre but I do. This waterfall divides Vietnamese people and Chinese people. On our side of the waterfall people were speaking Vietnamese and just a stone's throw away people were speaking Chinese. It was like the bizarre Niagra Falls except between two countries that speak different languages.

I had read in Lonely Planet that you need a permit to see the waterfalls but that you could attain it at the waterfall office. Well, that wasn't true. When we got there, an army officer told us that you need to get a permit in Cao Bang city which was a few hours away. Huyen, quick on her toes, told the guy that she was my tour guide and that we hadn't passed through Cao Bang (the second part was true). She said that we drove a long way and would really appreciate it if we could go to the falls. Permission was granted (shockingly without a bribe!) and we headed down to the falls. We hired our own private bamboo raft for $5 and got an up close and personal look at the falls:

Our first (and hopefully last) fall

2011-04-14T03:00:00.000-07:00

After I drove all day in the mud the day before, Huyen said she would drive first the next morning. That lasted for about a minute and a half:

In Huyen's defense, she's a great driver. In fact, she drove some the first day without a problem. However, our bike is quite tail-heavy with both me and our bag on the back. Combine that with the mud and it resulted in some serious fishtailing.

Luckily we were going about 2MPH when we crashed. Also we fell in mud which made for a soft landing. And luckiest of all, we fell on the right side of the bike which meant nobody got burned by the tail pipe.

So, mom, we got our crash out of the way and have a story to tell without anyone getting hurt. What more could we ask for?!

Mud

2011-04-13T06:13:00.000-07:00

One of our Vietnamese friends told us that we had timed our trip perfectly since it would no longer be the rainy season. Yeah, not true. It rained at least for a few minutes every single day during the first week.

In fact, in the northeast of Vietnam, it was very rainy and thus very muddy. When we stuck to the main roads, we didn't have any problems. However, whenever we took a back road it got a little bit perilous:

Ethnic Minority Sausage

2011-04-12T03:00:00.000-07:00

(PICTURE: I have pictures of the real sausage which I'll replace with this when my camera wire decides to start working during uploads.)

The immature side of me always laughs at an item on the menu at one of my favorite restaurants in Hanoi -- Ethnic Minority Sausage. Every time I bring a visiting guess to this restaurant, they always ask about the ethnic minority sausage with a giggle. We then try and order it but are told that they don't have any ethnic minority sausage in the kitchen.

Well, on the first night of our trip, we walked into a restaurant and there in the back was hanging sausage. Huyen ordered us some and the owners -- yes, ethnic minorities -- friend it up for us. It was delicious, albeit a little bit fatty. The next day we stopped in another small town and there were two ethnic minorities carry a stick with dozens of hanging sausage. You guessed it, we got a bunch more.

So, I'm happy to report that Ethnic Minority sausage does exist and better yet, it's delicious.

Leaving Hanoi

2011-04-11T03:00:00.000-07:00

After giving our extra stuff to Su, Huyen and I left Hanoi. This is us crossing the Red River:

Our first destination was Cao Bang Province. Cao Bang is quite far from Hanoi so we thought we would take two days to get there. Originally we had planned to stop in Babe Lake the first night. However, at the last minute we decided to try going a different way since we went to Babe two years ago. At the intersection where we had planned to turn left, we took a right. Less than a minute later we took another right...to the curb because a policeman pulled us over.

In Vietnam, you get pulled over by a cop stepping into the road and shoving his baton in your face. They literally step into on coming traffic and steer you to the side like you're a charging bull. I think the guy pulled me over because I was speeding (although, Mom, I really wasn't going fast at all!). Huyen thinks they stopped us because they had cameras on the road and saw our out of town license plates. We're not sure exactly why they pulled us over because as soon as the cop saw my face he told me to keep going. I think the cop -- who must have been 25 or younger -- had no idea what to do with a foreigner. No complaints here because it means our bribing budget didn't have to get tapped on Day #1!

Another of my favorite things that happened on Day #1 is that when we stopped for gas, Huyen overheard a conversation between two guys that went like this:
Guy #1: Look it's a foreigner.
Guy #2: I guess Vietnamese girls like foreigners.
Guy #1: Only Vietnamese girls with big shoulders.

Yes, Huyen, has big shoulders...at least while she's wearing the protective motorcycle jacket we bought her (they didn't have my size!). So now I keep making fun of Huyen's shoulders being freakishly large.

At the end of the day, Huyen and I took a road with HUGE TRUCKS. We're trying to avoid this by going on all back roads. However, for some reason all these trucks were on this back dirt road. I'm talking massive 18 wheelers. Luckily they were only going about a mile an hour since they had to maneuver around giant pot holes (probably created by other trucks). It was a bizarre route for the trucks to go but technically it was highway...just this section was in the middle of a forest.

In total, we logged 285km on our first day. That is a heck of a lot on a motorbike and probably the most we'll log in a single day on the whole trip.

The Long Wave Goodbye

2011-04-10T03:00:00.000-07:00

First off, a very special thanks to my cousins Adam, Justin and Dana. A couple of months ago they sent Huyen and me a Flip video camera as a wedding present. In all of our moving and finishing up work over the last month, we haven't had a chance to play around with it. However, we're about to have lots of time and reasons to use it.

Huyen and I have decided to do a big motorbike trip as a farewell to Vietnam. We had talked about this for a long time and debated on it up until we took off. In fact, we SOLD our Honda Win when getting rid of all our stuff. Those unfamiliar with motorbikes and motorcycles, the Win is a MUCH more comfortable bike for long trips than the Wave that we own and are now taking. There's many many many advantages to the Win over the Wave. However, the Wave does have two advantages:
1. It can be repaired in any town in Vietnam
2. It allows me to call this trip, "The Long Wave Goodbye."

We have a rough schedule of what we want to do but it's really all up in the air. We've got our plane tickets to leave Hanoi and to arrive in America but before all that we're taking it day by day.

Before we left on our trip, we had to get rid of all our stuff. We sent a ton home to Huyen's house and gave a lot to her sister. We thought we had everything we needed for a bike trip but it turned out to be way too much. This meant we had to drop some stuff off at Su's apartment before we left. Some things we left behind were our mosquito net (so far every hotel has had one), some clothing, my camera bag (the camera is wrapped in socks now) and other odds and ends:

You might notice that disgusting facial hair I'm sporting at the end of the video. I've decided to try and grow a beard over the next few months since, well, why not. I'm married and jobless so I don't need to look good for anyone!

Property Tax

2011-04-09T03:00:00.000-07:00

The other day I was talking to Huyen's sister Huong about taxes in America. She had asked me how much a home was and I told her an average home in a nice town might cost between $300,000-$500,000. This didn't blow her mind since property in Hanoi is on par with this. However, when I told her how much tax could cost every year, she nearly fainted. I said that someone might have to pay 1.5% on their house every year which could mean $4,500 on a $300,000 home*. Huong told me that she pays 17,000 VND in property tax every year. Let me do the conversion for you: That's $0.82.

* For the record, I don't own a home so I could really have no idea what I'm talking about.