Good Night Vietnam

“I mused for a few moments on the question of which was worse, to lead a life so boring that you are easily enchanted, or a life so full of stimulus that you are easily bored” - Bill Bryson

It may be said that traveling alone is the best way to discover a place, or it may be said that traveling alone is the best way to discover oneself. It may be said that traveling alone is dangerous, or foolhardy, or difficult, or all of these things. I think there is truth in most everything, and I think there is truth in this. I should also think there is truth in one finding adventure and liberation, and a good sense of fun, too. But, I have traveled alone for a long time and am no closer to finding the real truth than when I began. Now, I travel with another; a Chinese girl as it happens. We traveled together to Da Lat; a city high up in the mountains of South Vietnam. It rests at 4,500 feet – or so I was told by a man who could pronounce my name, so he was to be trusted. It is a city that offers relief from the choking humidity and rising heat of the lowlands and the jungles. Three days were passed there, and nothing much was accomplished that could be mistaken as productive, or worthwhile. I had some pretty good coffee on day two – that was something. A piece of food from some uncooked pork freed itself from my incisor on the same morning – I suppose that was something too. But, all and all, it was a good city to rest in while we prepared for the coastal city of Nha Trang, where we would stay another three days.

To snorkel in Nha Trang is to be content for a day. It is a wonderful way to see that unfamiliar, alien world below that thin mirror of ocean film so common to any surface dweller. I fear the locals take for granted the visibility and room temperature water of their marine environment. Do they know this water is sought by nearly everyone above the latitude of 30 deg N.? I think not. I think they are spoiled in regard to it. No matter, their ignorance and overindulgence can be forgiven as long as they remain dedicated to the practice of tourism, for the water, and the marine life benefit greatly. I have no issue with tourism by this result. The coral off the coast of Nha Trang borrows its color from an Afremov painting, and borrows its fish from an aquarium. The angel fish were my favorite, mostly because when they school together it looks as if the ocean is a Zebra patterned canvas. I enjoyed swimming through the schools, and watching as the fish made room for my awkward and unbalanced body. That I didn't have an underwater camera was a travesty; one that I did not forgive myself for until many days later. We went on to Hoi An in the meantime and participated in some more lounging about near the ocean. This time, however, we were unable to walk to the beach so we rented a scooter. The roads in Hoi An are open and easily navigated, like riding along on the shores of Cape Cod, so we had no trouble in staying out of trouble. Moreover, riding through the rice fields to our destination was perhaps the most relaxing part of our stay in Hoi An. Wide and stretching marsh with thigh high grass and Water Buffalo were being maintained by Vietnamese rice farmers the size of children, and they all wore the cone hat so commonly associated with the enterprise, and the country.

“Do you serve Duck Fetus here?” was the first question I asked in Hanoi - a question rarely asked within the average lifespan of most human beings I should imagine. But, I am amongst those whom can proudly say they have uttered the words. The reply was “no”, and I can thank the man at the restaurant for his immediate response. Any length of time between the asking and the answering would have cost me dearly. On one hand I was sad that we could not try the local delicacy, but on the other hand, and on both feet, I was relieved. Settling for Eel soup and roasted pigeon would have to do. A Vietnamese menu is a wonder of the modern world; comparable in awesomeness to Angkor Wat, or the Taj Mahal, or the city of Petra, or the Great Wall of China, or even the Roman Colosseum. It is enormous in size, perhaps close to that of an advanced physics textbook a student will be asked to study for a semester - for most, I imagine the menu is as elusive to comprehend, too. There is no reason why the breakfast section should be in the middle, and the drinks at the beginning, and the lunch at the end, and dinner scattered proportionately throughout. Why can I order a beer and a frog on the same page? What amazes me the most, though, is the ability to produce any one of the uncountable number of dishes offered, all within a reasonable amount of time, keeping in mind the closet size kitchen they are made in. Where do the ingredients come from? How is it that you can prepare for me a hamburger, a pizza, a bowl of pork fried rice, won ton soup, bacon, eggs, pancakes, sweet and sour chicken, tacos, quesadillas, fish, noodles, lobster, crab, shrimp, fruit, vegetables, potatoes, and still not expand your operation? Should I understand that you are capable of such things without the materials? - Voodoo maybe? Buddha maybe? Just like the driving in Southeast Asia, it is best not to wonder how it works, and just know that it does, somehow, like landing on the moon, or women. The less questions you ask in Asia, the more pleasant things will seem; this, I have come to know as a rule.

A more beautiful place than Halong Bay would be quite hard to find, I think. Maybe if one looked hard enough, and long enough, and wide enough, and high enough, and thorough enough, and had some insider information from some seasoned traveler, or some wise local, or some brilliant academic, or some leprechaun, or fairy, or genie. Maybe. Nearly two thousand limestone karst formations have formed at seemingly random intervals in aqua green water as smooth as a sea turtle shell to create the landscape. We boarded a houseboat to explore it more intimately. Our first day, we did some cave touring up the side of one of the islands. Surprise Cave it was called, apparently because it was secretive enough to avoid Western detection for so many years. We should get some better detectors, I think. It is comparable in size and grandeur to some other cave systems I have seen, primarily Carlsbad Cavern in New Mexico. Surprise Cave, I believe is the most amazing one I have seen, though I do not wish to be a prisoner of any moment, past or present, so I can not write this in stone. Hereafter, we explored the caves from sea level in kayaks; paddling into inlets and bays, looking for any nook or cranny that could pass for exotic under the right conditions. Certainly, we found them.

By and by, we reached the evening, and then the night, and then the early morning, and then the morning. We ate an ocean influenced breakfast and sailed on back to port. On the way, I looked out over the slowly passing islands and noticed the gray color of the limestone, and the lime green of the trees. I noticed the way they complemented the water. For the hundredth time, I noticed the hundreds of fish interacting with each other and swimming with no worries. I noticed I had no worries. I have a habit of noticing when I have achieved something I will never forget.

Phnom Penh to Saigon

“It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.” - Frederick Douglass

Phnom Penh is the capital of Cambodia, located on the Mekong River, and where the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge took place in the mid 1970's. Visiting the killing fields and the S-21 prison camp outside of town is a heart breaking and soul crushing experience, but one that is important to see. However, I don't recommend loitering, as it is a painful thing to endure for long. I visited for a day and was done with it, and relied on the good nature of the modern people to shock me back into readiness; their synchronized exercising in particular. In fact, seeing Asian synchronized exercising is the only cure for it, I think. Perhaps there are others, but this was the remedy for my case. The spectacle is beyond any humor I know. It is usually summoned in public parks and common areas, but this one set itself up on the boardwalk next to the Mekong. Now, I did not stop and gaze for long, as doing such a thing as this should be considered disrespectful in most cultures; presumably this one, but long enough to nearly spit my Sumatra iced coffee all over the sidewalk. It is the outfit - yes, it is the headband - yes, it is the music - yes, it is the facial expression – yes, but it is the motion that loosens my screws, mostly: slow, coordinated, swaying reaches to the sky followed by counterclockwise rotation and a repeat cycle, of course. If one is lucky, he may hear some grunts in Khmer (Cambodian) too. If it were only one or two people performing, or even a handful, it would not stimulate the laughter as effectively, but it is the large gathering of people that completes the circus.

On to Vietnam, and Saigon; only a six hour, relatively and surprisingly painless trip; especially considering it was a border crossing into a socialist country for an American. So goes it. Now, Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) is a place of high importance to the recent history of the world, and certainly has a past worth a long read, but not here. The city today is the Asian city one thinks about when he thinks about that sort of thing. It is crowded with more motorbikes than should ever be counted, and the buildings are full of neon lights and strange characters which may never be understood by a westerner. Crossing the street here is taming all your natural senses telling you not to, and throwing yourself into oncoming traffic, hoping the mass of small vehicles avoids you. It does work; it is beyond me how, but it does work. I would liken it to a school of mackerel in the ocean avoiding an oncoming swordfish – every pulse of movement is felt by the group as a whole, and they dodge the trouble well enough. The analogy is not a great one, as in this case the swordfish is the one scared shit-less; but it will give an accurate scene of what goes on here. Very well, I spent three days soaking up both history and humidity. There are so many places to see and things to do, that it can be overwhelming if you don't take a minute to breathe once in a while.

By and by, I found myself outside the city about 30 miles at the famous Cu Chi tunnels which were heavily bombed during the Vietnam War. I explored the areas massive bomb craters and intricate tunnel systems, even some of the booby traps designed to trap or kill American soldiers. Everything was fascinating; from the will and determination of the Vietnamese soldiers who lived in tunnels for 18 months with barely enough room to turn around, or swat a fly; to the elaborate, and somewhat prehistoric weapons they used in fighting a much more advanced enemy. Our guide was good, perhaps a tad over anxious about referring to Americans as Godless Devils, but he was thorough enough and his English was acceptable. Certainly I learned things I never knew, like the damage Agent Orange had on crops for years after their use, and how temporary weapons shelters were set up in the middle of jungles to facilitate faster arms output. No doubt, I enjoyed firing the AK-47 at the shooting range, too. I had but one bullet, and I tried to make it count, so I took my time in missing the target. 

I am finding it increasingly hard to shop in Vietnam, and Southeast Asia in general. Let us start with the milk situation; in short, there is none. The only time I have found it has been in convenient stores where they sell it in containers not much bigger than a juice box. To ask for a gallon of milk in Southeast Asia would be to ask for a gallon of soy sauce in the States, indeed, you would get the same look, and no result. And, in the market, shopping for clothes is like entering the Colosseum. One must be prepared or never come back out. As a general rule, do not make eye contact with a marketer, for if you do, you will surely be hassled. I'm not so sure they realize they are all selling the same exact products right next to each other, and even if I did buy a thing from one stand, I would not walk three paces and buy the thing again at another. If they had it their way, I would enter the market with no “Authentic Vietnam Lighter” and exit with twenty-five. And only about 12 of them would work. No matter, it is all part of it, I suppose.  

Angkor Wat (Cambodia)

“Re-examine all that you have been told... dismiss that which insults your soul ” - Walt Whitman

Pak-Chong, Thailand, to Siem Reep, Cambodia, is a journey which takes all day, from 6 in the morning to 9 at night. I'm not sure of the actual distance, but I am sure that I don't want to know it; I'm afraid it would offend the part of me that wasn't happy to sit on various buses for 15 hours. Though long, the trip was relatively event free, besides one particular incident at the Thai – Cambodia border crossing which involved some of my traveling friends at the time. The details are long, and of no great value to the point of the story, so I will just say that they were stopped at the border and hassled by a man until the man got so visibly frustrated that every one on the bus left and got on another one. The situation worked itself out somehow, and I suppose the only thing I learned from it was that we were now in Cambodia. Anyway, the aggressive man was a far outlier to others I've interacted with since. In fact, I can't say I've seen another Cambodian upset in anyway since arriving in Siem Reep. In fact, I can't say I've seen another Cambodian frown since arriving in Siem Reep. In fact, I can't say I've seen another Cambodian not smile since arriving in Siem Reep. Lovely people. Now, I don't claim to be a historian in anyway, as I shouldn't, yet, but I do feel I know some of the stuff, and I can't think of an event in the past century as awful as the Khmer Rouge reign of terror in the 1970's in Cambodia, besides the holocaust in Europe. That these people, only a generation ago, went through this and still have the ability to smile at all is hard to believe. But, that is history, and this is a travel blog.

Siem Reep is the city which lies adjacent to the Angkor Temples – built a long time ago by some very old folks, with a very intense purpose, presumably. The nightlife does not follow rules and has no apparent objective besides to keep the visitor from his breakfast the next morning. When beers are 50 cents or perhaps a dollar, all has been said. By and by, the first night in town, the atmosphere grabbed me as a Grizzly grabs a Salmon, and soon enough I was watching the sunrise with a group of people whose English was only improved by our collective state of intoxication. Very well, a day looking at temples turned into a day looking at my pillow.

The temples of Angkor are scattered over a huge area, the size of which can be related to the size of a small town in the States. Everywhere, there are temples, and everywhere, there are tourists who should just as well walk into a disease infested pond before taking their eyes away from their cameras. A more clueless breed of people has not been thought up yet, I think. I should say that Tourists are an ugly thing to look at, too, but I would be forced to insult myself, and I will not do that. Anyway, if you keep your eyes at a certain level, you can almost keep the tourist out of frame.

These are the most impressive temples I have yet seen, though I suppose the only other temples I've yet seen are in Las Vegas, and they have a charm of their own, certainly. These ones, though, are nearly a thousand years older, and look the part. They are made of sandstone, some limestone, and some form of volcanic basalt; all chiseled to an unbelievable level of detail and character. The eroding gray surface of the temples are contrasted with the jungle green of lichens, tree roots, moss, palm trees, coconut trees, chemical weathering, mechanical weathering, and other things that can call themselves green, too. It is a scene from Indiana Jones, and I won't be untruthful and say I didn't imagine myself as him once or twice, whistling the theme song as I ducked through the various nooks and crannies, amid vines and spider webs. Of course, I would have done this all day, but of course, I ran into another tourist, and, of course, he looked at me in a peculiar way, and, of course, he was French.

After the normal time allotted for shock and awe, and thinking “wow” over and over again, I thought of how forceful the forced labor must have been, and how many poor villagers and peasants were needed to build this complex of ancient wonders for the king. It's a very sobering subject to think of when looking at something as immense as the Angkor Temples, with as many intricacies as stars in the sky, or fish in the sea, or people in Asia. The sooner the thought leaves, the better the day is. Well, I took a tuk-tuk the first day, a rented pink beach cruiser the second, and another tuk-tuk the third. The tuk-tuk is never far from a wondering westerner, in fact, they are in constant wait for one to walk past, and they are a noise to get used to, surely. But, they are very friendly, and very knowledgeable, and really are worth the 12 dollars it costs to follow you around all day, and wait for you while you sight see. I haven't yet felt scammed or ripped off since in Siem Reep.

Angkor Wat is the grand finale of all temples, and best seen at sun rise. So, mustering up the courage, I got up around 4 am to go and see what the sun could do in the early morning that was impressive enough to gather its reputation, and to pass so easily through the grape vine of travelers all the way to my ears. Well, the temple was impressive enough, but the light had nothing to do with it, as far as I could tell. Perhaps on a clearer morning it could have justified my presence among the fields of tourists, but as it was, sleep would have been more impressive. It is the eighth wonder of the world, they say, and it does live up to the standing, I think. Had it not been for the suffocating heat, I would have liked to explore it all day and into the evening. But, alas, the heat made short work of the day, and heading back to bed seemed the only reasonable thing to do.