Videos - Part 1

I'm going to implant these videos into the corresponding entries, but here they are in case you don't want to reread the entire blog!

A marketplace in Udaipur (the girl who smiles at the end is the best):



My little friends in Hampi:

1) Explaining their favorite Gods:



2) Holding a staged conversation that I have no idea what it is about:



3) Sliding:





My Jodhpur suitors:

Beijing and The Great Wall

I was looking forward to the train ride - meet new people, see interesting scenery as we headed up through China. I got to the train station and waited. I was feeling terribly anxious for some reason. When it was time to board, I discovered I was sharing a small cabin with two Mongolian boys who wouldn't speak to me the entire time. Or make eye contact. This was my first indication that I might have some language problems ahead of me. I also discovered that I had pretty much no money left. For some reason, I didn't think about the food situation on the train. Good thing I'd picked up snacks. Our train stopped several hours later and we were hustled off into the station for visa processing. I hadn't realized we'd switch trains at the border so I'd gotten all cozy in my bunk -- ready for the 2 day trip. Now I was rushing to pack up while getting barked at in both Chinese and Vietnamese and something I think was supposed to be English.

Bleary-eyed, we got through the processing, had our stuff looked at and boarded a nicer, newer train. Again with the Mongolian boys. The older one (I think they were brothers who went to school in Vietnam but their family lives in Mongolia ...maybe? ) had a mohawk and was wearing a tshirt with stick figures in compromising positions and "I f----d your girlfriend" written across it. He wore it the whole time.

A few minutes later, more Chinese agents were knocking on all the doors and demanding to see the bags of the Western passengers. They wanted to know what my Vietnamese coffee makers were but mostly they were interested in my books and my folder of papers. Was I carrying any subversive literature, I guess. They went through that stuff pretty intensely. I was suddenly really not liking China and wondering what they were going to do when the world descends on them for the Olympics in August.

At some point, I fell asleep but at dawn we were woken up again and hustled off the train into a waiting room. We left our stuff on the train. I am not sure exactly why we had to do this. The waiting room had big cushy 70s style armchairs and crappy coffee but I was starving. We had about an hour to kill so I decided to take my chances and leave the train station to find some food -- I had exchanged what little money I had for Yuan already. Actually, I had plenty of money for regular food. It was the train food I couldn't afford. As luck would have it, there was a small grocery store across the street. I went in, found what appeared to be instant noodles and bought a couple of tubs. I had seen that there was a hot water spigot on the train that was used for noodles and making tea. My apprehension wasn't really abating. I think it was because I hadn't really talked to anyone in almost two days.

Eventually we were moving again and it started raining. For awhile you could see the amazing landscape outside:

But soon there was no visibility whatsoever. The rain fogged up the windows -- so much for the viewing part of the trip. I fell asleep -- as did my cabinmates. Around dinner time, I went to the hot water spigot and on my way back spotted the door open to a cabin filled with Westerners. I paused to see they were playing cards, so I introduced myself. The two guys were from New Zealand and the girl was from England. They had all left New Zealand and were backpacking their way across land -- on their way to China where they'd eventually catch the Trans-Siberian Railway. They invited me to join them so I broke out my bottle of Vietnamese wine (after realizing it could make for a tragjc homecoming in America if I were to open my bag to find it had destroyed everything in transit). Turned out to be a good thing as it was REALLY BAD. Eventually, we moved to the dining car where we drank the house beer -- Pabst Blue Ribbon of course - and continued playing cards until the wee hours.

We arrived in Beijing the next morning and I asked my new friends if I could trail them to a hotel. I was required to book a hotel in order to get my Chinese visa back in April but then the tourist agency in Thailand canceled it as I didn't know exactly when I would arrive. They agreed -- I think the couple, Craig (yes, another New Zealander named Craig) and Eve were happy to pawn Josh off on me so they could have a little coupley alone time. We got off the train and instantly realized we were going to have a problem with the language. First I followed them as they tried to find information on the Trans-Siberian railway but they quickly gave up and we spent fifteen minutes just trying to find the taxi stand. Once the four of us and our luggage were stuffed in a cab, Craig attempted to give directions to the cabbie. We drove for about ten minutes before the cabbie stopped at a light, pulled out a colorful paper with cartoons on it, pointing at the part that said, "Where do you want to go?" Oh crap. I think these fliers were part of the "Get Ready for the Olympics" training but still. We laughed and tried again. He nodded that he understood and we were off. Another five minutes, the flier came out again. He was very good-natured and we all laughed and tried our best to guide him. Finally after many u-turns and dead-ends, we found the hotel -- which was tucked way back in one of Beijing's hutongs, old neighborhoods with tiny alleys where the buildings adjoin each other and surround a courtyard (these neighborhoods are quickly being bulldozed as Beijing modernizes itself). Once inside the hotel, we then spent 30 minutes trying to check in. My friends had booked two hotel rooms -- both singles. Now they wanted to change one to a room with two beds (for Josh and me). The girls working the front desk absolutely had no idea what we were on about, nor did they seem to understand that my friends had already paid online for the rooms. Finally, a bespectacled business man standing behind us intervened and translated to the clerks. Everything was straightened out. We thanked him profusely and went to our rooms. I was suffering from 3 days of no shower and decided that needed to be remedied immediately before we headed out to explore the local area. However, I could not figure out how to get hot water. I was about to go down to the front desk where I anticipated another 45 minute conversation (even WITH the phrasebook I'd carted through 6 countries in preparation for the difficulty I expected in China) when I ran into the friendly business man who turned out to be our neighbor. I explained the lack of hot water and he kindly offered to help out. He came into our room and called downstairs with our phone. He sat back and smiled and started telling us that he was a professor and that he'd written a book about how China was going to take over the world and so everyone better start learning Chinese (I'm already aware of this, I have seen "Firefly" after all...). A few minutes later, there was knock on the door and a hotel worker popped in... with a thermos of hot water -- for tea. Oh dear. I must not have explained myself well. "The shower," I said. "I meant hot water for the shower." Our neighbor slapped his head and stepped into our bathroom and twiddled a knob I hadn't seen. Ta-da! I Hot water! I thanked him, but he settled back down again to discuss his book some more. I gave Josh a look of apology and stepped into the bathroom.

When I came out, our neighbor had cleared out. Josh showered and we went next door to collect his friends but oddly enough, they didn't answer-- so we headed out on our own. First stop, cash. We kept walking and discovered that we were right in the main tourist area. We wandered around for a bit, trying to decide on where to eat lunch. Met an adorable puppy, which I nicknamed "Dim Sum" because I'm PC like that.

Candidate for "People who look like their pets."

Ended up eating McDonald's and figured we'd get a real dinner later. After wandering around the lake and peeking into shops for fun "Engrish" (I found a couple of good t-shirts) we went back to the hotel to pick up Josh's friends for dinner. Josh dropped off his laundry with the front desk clerks and we headed out to eat dinner at a local cafe while a video of a Shania Twain concert blared overhead.

Next morning, my friends wanted to get their train tickets squared away. We caught a taxi back to the train station so they could get their tickets for Tuesday. While they took care of it, I picked up postage stamps (which would turn out to be a waste of money), checked my email (failure -- couldn't get onto my email -- oh hi China!) and get breakfast. Then we all wandered through an interesting grocery store where I purchased some Chinese style medicine for my ailing stomach.

Speaking of ailing stomachs, I then had to run across the street to a hotel to use their facilities. Looks like my "friends from India" were back.

Hailed another cab and headed to The Temple of the Heavens. It was a strange day - overcast yet you could see the sun burning through the clouds above. Couldn't tell if it was a fog or smog situation but I knew that the Olympians who would be arriving in two months would have their work cut out for them. Josh and I struck out on our own and wandered the gardens.

There is a particular part of the temple where there is a raised marble slab and people took turns standing on it. I found out only recently (a year later) that this was considered the highest point and the emperor would stand here to be both part of earth and the heavens.

I took my turn and then saw the young boy who stepped up after me grin such a Golum smile, I had to take his photo. Yeesh.

Around the grounds were covered walkways that appeared to be THE place for older Chinese to get together. Many games of chess were going on as well as karaoke machines to gather around, dancing groups, exercising groups (boy do the Chinese love their exercise), and various other social activities.

Some serious storm clouds were gathering so we decided to head out. We thought it might be a good idea to book a trek to the Great Wall that evening. I wanted to go the next day as I was worried there might be bad weather if I left it until Sunday. Josh decided he'd accompany me.

We headed back to the hotel and Josh and I went to the front desk to book the trip. I should have known it would be another impossible session of charades. I even tried to draw a picture of the Great Wall to illustrate what we wanted to do. Finally they understood. Josh remembered he was running out of clothes to wear and asked if his laundry was ready (or gestured a lot until they understood). The clerk went and retrieved his bag of laundry, which looked dubious... nothing was folded. We walked back up to the room and Josh pulled out a t-shirt from the bag --"I don't think they washed it," he laughed. They certainly didn't smell clean. Nope, not washed -- they just stored his dirty clothes for him -- they must have thought he was crazy.

Dinner at a nearby restaurant. Our bottle of wine was sponsored by the Olympics. So was the beer. I soon noticed quite a bit was sponsored by the Olympics.

Dinner was interesting -- tough to find something on the menu that wasn't intestines, brains etc. Then I figured, who decided muscle was okay to eat but not stomach? I ended up eating Peking Duck -- it's a requirement. So amazing.

Early to rise -- a taxi would take us to the waiting bus. We were greeted with a prepared "breakfast" -- a questionable "sandwich" -- and hopped on board. It was about an hour and a half ride out to the section of the wall we'd be walking, Simatai which was much less touristy than the Badaling section.

The weather was not so great -- very cloudy and foggy and hinting at possible rain. Josh and I picked up some ponchos and an umbrella and started the hike. A Chinese man hung back to chat with us as we walked. Told us he was a farmer. I didn't really want the company (the guy was very chatty and something didn't feel right) and stopped to adjust my shoes and backpack but the guy hung out next to us and kept yapping. Dismayed, Josh and I kept looking at each other -- were we stuck with this guy for the next 3 hours? Hadn't seen him on the bus -- where did he come from? When we climbed up to the start of the wall, we finally learned his reason for friendliness: he wanted to sell us a calendar. We detached ourselves from him with a firm no and continued our trek. We were to be ambushed by sellers at every watchtower but this still wouldn't be as bad as Badaling's touts. In fact, the wall was fairly empty. Josh and I would either linger behind or hurry ahead in order to get shots of the Wall completely void of people. Unfortunately (or fortunately as it perhaps kept tourists away) the weather often had the Wall shrouded in fog. But still, it was beautiful and mysterious -- probably more so than had it been full sunshine.

I really enjoyed the hike -- the Great Wall was one of the reasons I decided to go on this trip in the first place. Six months earlier (or perhaps more), I'd been sitting in my living room with my neighbor, Sherrod, watching a Dateline episode on the Wall. I knew I had to see it. I didn't realize how soon I would see it. I remembered this and as I stood at the peak of one of the rolling stretches of the wall, I paused to text Sherrod: "Guess where I am!" "Newark?" was the response.

It was nice there were so few people on the wall. At one point, I paused ahead of another group to squat down and take a picture of the stretch of wall ahead of me. Just as I was about to take the picture, a young woman burst ahead of me and into the frame, exclaiming, "I'M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!" Baffled, I said, "Then why are you up here?" "If I keep moving, I'm okay." Sure, lady... as long as you keep moving UP THE HIGHEST HILL we've come across and ruin my photo -- I mean, it IS all about you. Honestly.

It was rather sad when we completed the trek. I knew that not only was I done with seeing something so amazing (that I might never see again in my life)... but also, somehow, I've reached the end of my trip. In two short days I'd be on a plane heading back to New York. I was ready... but I wasn't. I had no idea if I'd ever be able to do something like this again and melancholy was setting in fast and furious.

We crossed a rickety footbridge, climbed a hill and then hiked down to where the rest of our tour group was camped out in a cafe for our included "lunch."

Half-starved, we dug into the buffet. Our table was rather raucous and before we were going to head out and back to Beijing, a bunch of them purchased more beer for the bus ride (no open container laws) including Josh.

I made due with my one beer and later was glad of it. We hit some SERIOUS traffic and when we finally stopped to get some gas, half the guys on the bus were nearly bursting. They SPRINTED to the bathroom and exhibited sheer relief on their faces when they returned. Josh said he'd never felt like that before in his life -- almost didn't think he was going to make it. We stopped again a little later and I decided to use the facilities and I can honestly say they were the worst facilities in my entire 3.5 months in Asia. It was basically a cement building with holes dug in the dirt. The smell was incredible. Suddenly, the thought of pristine porcelain seated toilets and two-ply toilet paper looming in my future was heartwarming.

We got back to Beijing in pouring rain. Covered in mud and exhausted, we trotted down to a cafe for a dinner and hit the hay.

My Last Day

After a quick breakfast, we headed to the Forbidden City (which was actually pretty close by). The crowds were chaotic. Before entering the palace, I headed to the bathroom and thought, you know, if I time this right -- this will be the last squatting toilet I use.

And it was! Oof, one thing I will not miss, that's for sure.

I found it a little difficult to enjoy the Forbidden Palace due to the hordes of tourists but it certainly is a beautiful place.

As we exited on the other side of the palace, a familiar red wall loomed up. We passed through a tunnel and emerged under Chairman Mao's giant portrait on the other side.

Tiannamen Square. It's immense. I realized I really didn't know much about what happened here. There's no recorded death toll -- the NY Times has it somewhere between 400-800.

We headed to the closest subway to take us out to the Bird's Nest -- the new Olympic Stadium. The subway system was at least fairly easy to navigate. I imagine that was an Olympic initiative. However, the closest subway still only got you within a mile from the stadium. We walked through the blistering 90+ heat to the stadium. The smog was incredible.

The Birds Nest didn't look quite done and the grounds were a mess. All over the city, hotels were still going up (and would sit empty anyway). But there was a TGIFridays up and ready to go right by the entrance.

I stopped to take a picture of some workers and one of them pretended to come after me. I hope he was pretending...

Hopped in a cab to find lunch. Had Thai food for some reason. Melancholy settling in hard.

Craig and Eve went off on their own and Josh and I decided to do my last night up right. First we had a game of cards at a fondue/hot pot restaurant which was empty. The beers were about 1.50 each. We walked across the street to the tourist area where beers jumped up to 5 dollars a glass. No thanks. We wandered around for a bit. Found ourselves walking behind an American family -- the mother, at one point, whipped around and hissed, "Hunter, stay with us!" to her small son.

I had noticed around Beijing there are quite a few sidewalk gyms. Right near the hotel in the hutong there were some rudimentary stairclimbers and sit-up/push-up equipment. As we walked around the lake (and saw a number of tubby men swimming) we passed a gym that had a sort of "gazelle" machine, where you stand on two platforms and swing your legs forward and backward. We hopped on and tried our best, giggling. As we gave up, an elderly Chinese man biked over and jumped onto the machine in full street-clothes and started swinging away -- very seriously.

We kept wandering past an intersection where a small cafe/grilling place where a noxious smell was emanating. It was horrible. Neither of us had the nerve to go and find out exactly what gave off such a stink. We kept moving and eventually ended up in a teensy reggae bar, covered in Jamaican paraphernalia and run by a very large Chinese man with amazing dreads -- a Reggasian, if you will.

We were the only customers so we made friends with the owner and had a great time with his dog. Keeping the party going, we tried to move on to another bar but realized that we just couldn't afford to go out in this touristy area. We ended up passing McDonald's again and got a couple of cokes and walked out to the lake where we sat and watched the boats.

We were about to head back when Josh claimed we needed to make one last stop. Walked into a divey bar and sat down. Almost immediately an incredibly drunk young woman turned around from her table and offered us some mysterious meat in a styrofoam container. "What is it?" I asked. "Kak kak" she says and grabs her tongue. I look at her confused. She gets out her phone, scrolls and presses some buttons and then shows me "duck." Duck tongue. I look at the meat again -- it looks like a tiny slab of salami with two tendons protruding from it. What the heck, it's my last night-- and I eat the tongue.

Not bad actually although, again, I don't understand who thought it would be a great idea to eat duck tongues. Drunk girl buys a round of shots and offers us another styrofoam container of meat.

Josh reaches in and throws a piece in his mouth -- and instantly regrets it. "You remember that smell of that grilling shop?" he splutters. I grimace. "It tastes just like that," he chokes, hastily slurping down beer.

"You have to try it," he says. Are you kidding? After that review??? But I do since it's only fair.

The girl bolts out the door, leaving her quiet and fairly sober friends behind. They don't speak any English so we don't really continue the conversation (despite her drunkenness, the duck-tongue-offerer spoke pretty decent English and translated for everyone).

Unamused by us.

She reappears 15 minutes later and hands me a tassel of some sort with a very Chinese decoration on it. I have no idea what it is. She picks up her phone and I see that it has several similar tassels. I get out my phone and she adorns it for me. She had specifically run home to get it for me as when we'd exchanged emails earlier and I had used my phone to record hers, she'd noticed my phone was appallingly naked.

Drunk girl then jumps up and again runs to the bar and suddenly there is a round of shots called "duckass" (well why not -- we just had duck tongue) sitting in front of us. They tasted a bit like Kahlua and ohhh boy did they mark the end of our evening.

We stumbled back to the hotel. I attempted to let the front desk I'd need a taxi to the airport in the a.m. No luck, figured I'd try again in the morning.

Couldn't believe it was time to go home when I woke up. Since Craig and Eve were going that day to the Great Wall and the weather looked gorgeous, Josh chose to go with them. Can't see too much of it! We said good bye and I packed. I was excited and sad.

Performed an intricate mime of "hailing a taxi" and stretched out my arms, made a "vrrrrooom" noise and mimed taking off. The desk girls just put one hand over their mouths, pointed and tittered. Eventually, I gave up and headed out to a main street, luggage in tow. A taxi stopped for me and I showed him my guidebook where it said airport. He nodded briskly and off we went. Ten minutes later... he turned around to ask me where I wanted to go. I now know he meant which airline/terminal but at the time, I again tried to show him "airport" and my ticket, etc. until he stopped by the side of the street, got out, asked a stranger a question and got back in again. We made it to the airport.

I had about two hours to kill and tons of postcards to write so I sat down with lunch to write them. Probably wrote at least a dozen when I looked up and realized my plane was leaving in twenty minutes! I paid and bolted from the restaurant, asking a woman where a post office box was. She directed me to the center of the terminal. I sprinted over, tossed in the cards and RAN down the terminal. Of course my plane was at the very last gate which looked like half a mile away. I'm panting, passing flight status monitors showing my flight as "Final Call" -- I sprint up to the desk and I've just made it (although there were about 5 people who showed up right behind me). This is it. In 13 hours I'll be back in New York.

The plane ride feels too fast. I snooze a little, try to watch a Chinese movie and "National Treasure." We go up and over the Arctic, which is kind of wild. Coming over land in New York, seeing all the large, perfect houses below is surreal. How am I home already? Owen is there to meet me. The drive back to David's apartment is filled with wonder and weirdness -- all the new movie billboards, the cars are so American, the houses so clean and huge. The clean streets and silvery skyscrapers. It's all familiar but feels off. The three and a half months slipped by just like that. It felt like it had just been days since I'd woken up on my first morning in Mumbai, terrified to even step outside and now I was climbing the stairs to David's apartment and collapsing in his bed. It was lovely to be home but I wanted more time. I felt like I ran through 7 countries at breakneck speed. I should have taken more planes and spent less time on buses. There was still more I wanted to see. How can it be over?

No one got my postcards from China...and my banana chip bag is still intact. I guess I just have to plan a new trip sometime in the near future. Eventually those chips will be mine.

Hanoi, Vietnam

Leaving the airport for downtown was simple enough until we hit a terrible traffic jam trying to get into Hanoi -- on a road leading past giant factories (Canon etc). There was an accident on the bridge and once we cleared that, it was smooth sailing. Interesting mix of people in the van, mostly Asian but from all over the place: Hong Kong, Malayasia, etc. Everyone joked about the traffic, speaking English and once again I realized how fortunate I was to speak such a connecting language, but also sad that my grasp of other languages is so weak. I was constantly amazed on my trip by how just about everyone I met had some English, if not fluent (well… that is until I got to China).

As we crossed through downtown Hanoi, it occurred to me that yet again I’d arrived in a country with no hotel reservation… nor really any idea of where to look for a guesthouse. I don’t think that when I started out, I would have ever thought I’d just play it off the cuff like this. But then again, I’d only booked the first night in Mumbai and gone from there.

I chose to get off the bus in a rather backpacker-friendly area and walked down the street, peering into various hotels. Guesthouses were in abundance. I stopped at a cheery one but they quoted me approximately 15 dollars a night. I started to walk away and they said since it was not busy, I could have it for 10 a night. Score! My room was very nice. Two beds, cable tv, minifridge, HOT shower. Free internet access in the lobby. I showered and changed and headed out to find food. A couple blocks up I found a roadside pho stand (addiction!) and was invited to sit down by the owner.

Two gentlemen sitting nearby engaged me in conversation, or at least tried. I got out my Lonely Planet Vietnam book and tried out phrases with them and soon learned I needed work. Such a good meal… I know I already mentioned that pho is rice noodles in a beef broth. They bring you a plate piled high with basil, mint, and bean sprouts which you dump in to your liking. Usually there is pepper sauce at hand for spicing up and cheap beer. I think this meal runs about two bucks max… depending on the beer.

I was having a great time… I had passed a couple of bars packed with Westerners on my way to the pho stand but I think my time sitting with the locals was much more pleasant and memorable. And I love how the Vietnamese women seem to throw on their pajamas as soon as it’s after 4 pm.

(guy on left was the one helping with my Vietnamese)

On my walk back to the hotel, a young Vietnamese man on a spiffy Vespa passed me and smiled. When I reached my hotel, he had circled the block and pulled up next to me. He introduced himself as Huy (sort of sounds like Who-eh), asks where I am from and invites me to go to a discothèque with him. Says he has a sister in New Jersey so he likes to meet Americans and practice his English. I’m not sure why, but I decided to take him up on it. It wasn’t that terribly late and it was Saturday night after all. And how often do I get invited to Vietnamese discothèques?

He hands me a helmet and we zip off into the night. The club is located on a dock on the Song Hong River about five minutes away. Huy parks his Vespa among the throng of motorbikes and we head towards the pounding music. It wasn’t exactly a local’s hangout as I was greeted by a sea of mostly Caucasian faces. Huy introduces me to an artist friend of his and later we danced. It was a fun club but it was also incredibly hot and I was tired. Huy took me home and offered to take me on a tour of Hanoi the next day. What better way to see the city but with a local and on a Vespa? I agreed and he said he’d pick me up at 10.

The next morning, sure enough, Huy rolled up at 10 and we set off. First we toured around the neighborhood with its French colonial buildings covered in creeping vines. Zipped past women selling bread and various fruits.

He took me to a Canon store to replace the battery charger I’d left in Rachel’s bathroom as well. As we hopped back on the bike, however, Huy noticed a nail in his tire so off we went to get it fixed. While waiting, we sat and had a soda and Huy serenaded me with various songs on his cell phone, including Elton John’s "Something about the Way You Look Tonight." Once it was fixed, it was time for lunch so Huy took me to his favorite Sunday pho lunch spot where we sat with other locals. I could tell he was getting a good-natured ribbing from the guys outside for bringing me. It was really quite good pho but I actually liked the pho at the stand from the night before better. Next stop was one of many temples. To get to it, we had to cross a particularly busy street and Huy kept me to one side of him as we stepped out into traffic. It was still unnerving to just walk out into traffic, as you’re supposed to, giving the mopeds enough time to go around you. If you wait for a hole, you’ll never cross the street.

We drove around the small lake in the center of Hanoi and to the Vietnam War Museum.

It’s a strange experience to wander around a museum with someone who may or may not have relatives who were the enemy of American soldiers. Strange to see the Vietnamese side of it – pictures of massacres and US soldiers doing terrible things. Huy and I had a short talk about it but our conversation started to get a little tense and we headed to the café for some iced coffee. There was a tower outside overlooking a sort of art piece made up of crumpled US aircraft and other wartime prizes so we climbed up to look out over Hanoi.

Back on the Vespa and zipped over to a temple on the lake. There were a lot of shrines where people burned incense as well as fake money to send to their ancestors and dead loved ones. The shrines also contained other various offerings such as chicken, bread and small bottles of liquor. You absolutely must take care of your ancestors.

Finally, we Vespa'd to the train station to get my Beijing train ticket but it was already closed. Huy dropped me back at my hotels so I could rest for a bit and we planned on meeting up later for dinner and playing pool -- his Sunday night tradition.

Next day, Huy was working so I was on my own. I struck out for a good walk around my neighborhood. I had noticed there had been a hat district nearby and I was intent on buying a straw fedora as I was certain that it was something nobody wore back in the states (boy was I in for a shock when I got home). However, the only one I found that was properly floppy and about the right color was too small. I came upon another that was okay but the brim was too wide. And I wasn't too crazy about the crown. The woman trying to sell me it wouldn't give up. I told her it the brim was too big and started to walk away when she seized a pair of scissors and cut into it then unwound the brim until it was the correct width. But now it looked terrible. I didn't know what to do -- I also didn't have enough cash on me. I went to an ATM and then decided to just not return. I feel badly about it, but... I didn't really want it and didn't ask her to mutilate it for me. I walked until I realized I was nowhere near the train station, which was my original intent. The streets tend to wind around in loops around the lake and I had no idea where I was. I hailed a moped driver who took me to the station, only for me to realize I didn't have my passport and of course they were going to want to see it. Idiot. Hopped another moped all the back to my hotel and back to the station, scared I was going to miss getting a ticket. No problem though and soon I was booked. Decided to walk back even though the steaminess was really hitting its afternoon peak. Back in my own neighborhood, I came upon an intersection of several streets with "bars" on each corner. By bars I mean there was a small store with a keg inside and chairs facing out towards the street. A beer was approximately 40 cents. It wasn't the best beer but it was nice to just relax and watch the rather hectic world literally zoom by -- in cars, tuk-tuks, bikes, mopeds etc.

Beer Lady.

Family outing. Pfff, Indians could get at least three more people on.

Since I had not yet had pho that day, I proceeded up the street for my favorite dish at my favorite roadside cafe. Later that night, Huy came by to take me out. We took a night time drive around the city (Huy was also helping me with my hat hunt, with no luck) -- out by the lake I noticed an interesting phenomenon. Parked alongside the lake every 15 feet was a young couple passionately necking, either leaning up against the lake's railing or sitting on their moped. Truly the entire park was strewn with young lovers kissing. Huy explained that most people live with their parents well into their adult years and have nowhere to go to make-out. So they go to the parks. It was hysterical. We headed to Huy's favorite lounge/ bar for a farewell drink as I would be leaving tomorrow before he got off work.

The next morning, I packed up and went out wandering again. My train wasn't until the early evening so I had some time to kill.

Apparently the Vietnamese have already written off Britney (this is a funeral stone store)

Sorely low on reading materials for the two-day train trip (and the last few guesthouses I'd stayed in didn't appear to have a book exchange) I stopped at a bookstore and then wandered around a mall. I continued my walk, and realized I had stumbled upon an area with a number of chain stores and restaurants and that I was standing in front of a Gloria Jean's. I had worked at a GJ's for years in college and now a "Chiller" sounded perfect for the hot and humid day.

Picked up some treats for the train, went back to the hotel for some last minute interneting and to get some lunch. A cab picked me up and I was off. I was feeling kind of apprehensive and low at this point. Beijing was next and Beijing was last. I was going home in a week. How could it only be one week?

Laos

We roll into the border crossing at about 8 a.m. Drowsily, I try to negotiate through customs. No one has any pens. Finally through, I have no idea where I’m supposed to find my bus afterwards. Eventually I follow a woman who’d been on my bus down a misty road until we find it parked to one side. We clamber in and off we go to Vientiane, another six hours or so.

I’m too tired to be picky on finding a place to stay when I arrive and wander into one of the first guest houses I see. The entire family is gathered around the television. I’m shown to my room and then I have to immediately get to work on another Vietnamese visa for when I head to Hanoi. I head out to find an agency to book a flight from Vientiane to Hanoi on Thursday and then wander down by the Mekong for late lunch/early dinner. A British family sat near me and their children were enthralled by the heat lightning across the river. They would chant and wave their arms like tiny magicians, “Lightning come! Come lightning!” until the lightning would flash and they’d beg their parents to see if they were watching their show.

The sun disappeared and the mosquitoes came out so I headed back towards my guesthouse after a short tour around the area I was staying. Tried unsuccessfully to clean sensor but help was on the way! Jess was sending sensor cleaner via DHL to Vientiane (which was the main reason I was coming back to Ventienne to pick it up) and it would take four days to arrive. Hurray!

Next morning, I had a early a.m. bus to meet for my 3 hour trip to Vang Vieng. It’s funny how a three hour bus ride sounds like a blip after 7-17 hour bus rides. I didn’t have time for breakfast so I popped my malaria medication (“Malaaaria! Ma-laaaar-iiii-aaaah” – “Aquarius” is yet again stuck in my head) and got ready to head out. 10 minutes later, I’m vomiting in the toilet. I think back to the boat ride in Vietnam and the fact that that morning I’d also popped a malaria pill with just a banana in my tummy. I vowed to never take a malaria pill on an empty stomach again.

Bus picked me up nearby and we were off. Laos is gorgeous – green and hilly… and, allegedly, the most bombed country on earth.

Arrived in Vang Vieng to a slightly overcast day. It was still early so I piled on my bags and trekked towards the riverside where the guesthouses (many of them brand new) have sprung up. Vang Vieng is a small town on the river with amazing limestone cliffs jutting up out of mostly flat ground everywhere you look. It has a number of cave temples to explore but in recent years it has become known for one thing on the backpacker circuit: tubing. For about five dollars, you rent a tube and a waterproof bag and a tuktuk takes you upriver and dumps you off for a three mile tubing trip. After a breakfast of eggs and delicious French bread (much like the Vietnamese French bread) and a banana shake, I believe it’s time to go tubing.

I’m packed into a tuk-tuk with a couple of Australian boys who have apparently been in VV for weeks. All they do is tube and drink every day. We are dumped off at the starting point and I follow them into the muddy water. We are maybe in our tubes and floating for 2 minutes when we come up on the first river-side bar. As I’m floating past, a young boy throws a rope out to me, which I grab and he pulls me in. I guess I’m stopping. The bar’s dock is teeming with backpackers. They’re all very young and literally drinking out of buckets of booze. I get myself a beer and hang out, trying to look approachable but I’m feeling out of place. Everyone’s drunk and climbing up a ladder to swing on a trapeze or diving into the river or swinging down a firefox cable. I notice a man with a video camera and think that looks like a disaster waiting to happen. Eventually I give up and head out onto the river again. A second bar comes into view and again I’m reined in. This time a group of British girls attempt to befriend me until a guy walks up to them and they all get into a drunken argument about politics.

Eventually, a New Zealander befriends me and we chat a bit before getting back into the river. As we approach the third bar, a slight drizzle starts. The NZ guy beckons me to join him and although the Brit girls also asked me to join them, I went with the Kiwi because he was slightly less intoxicated/annoying. His friends are camped out on a roofed-over platform and I climb up to join them. On the next platform over, I recognize the Australian guys from my tuk-tuk ride. They’ve got about 10 guys crammed under their roof and they’re getting progressively more rowdy and boisterous. Just as I’m introduced to the people on my platform (all either from NZ or Australia), the boys next to us start singing, shouting and jumping on their platform, which gives way with a resounding crack! The guy I'm sitting next to, another Australian, growls with contempt towards the now scrambling guys next door, “Fucking Americans.” I look at him pointedly and ask, “I’m sorry, do you hear one American accent over there? Just one?” The guy hears my own accent (since I hadn't spoken previously) and blanches. “Uh…no.” I scowl at him, “In fact, I believe those are YOUR countrymen.”

When the rain stops, we head out again. This time drifting past the next couple of bars. It’s starting to get chilly when I see the final bar with a terrifically high up trapeze. There’s a bonfire roaring so I get out to warm up – which was probably not a good idea because I then dreaded getting back into the water. Then... well... I decided to try out the trapeze.

Ah, to live in a country with no liability… where water, alcohol and trapezes mix. Don’t worry, I was sober. The trapeze was wicked. You swing back and forth for a bit and then drop into the river – a very deep part of the river. I did it twice. The sun was starting to set then so I gathered up some of my new friends and we climbed back into the river. It got dark VERY quickly so we banded together, holding onto each others’ tubes. As we approached the town, a small child appeared like an otter next to us in the water. She grabbed our tubes and started hauling us towards shore. “I guess we get out here!” I said. We tipped the kid and walked back across the docks to the town. The bars were just getting started. I went back to my guest house to clean up and change and then went to the bar where one of my new friends had told me to meet them.

As I squeezed through the crowd, I passed the guy whom I’d seen with the video camera earlier and overheard him say “…New York…” and stopped in my tracks. “Hey,” I said, “Are you from New York?” “Yeah, I live in Greenpoint (Brooklyn).” I’d met very few Americans on my trip and none from New York so this was very exciting. I introduced myself and got to know Dex, who allegedly works for CurrentTV. Later, we stepped out into the street for a sandwich (so amazing!) and made plans to explore the caves together the next day.

Next morning, after some interneting, Dex rolled up on a rented moped and I hopped on. We scooted out of the tiny town over a small bridge and zipped out into the countryside to the first cave where we were immediately confronted by small children demanding money for us to go the cave. I refused and tried to go around them and they blocked my way. Little jerks. I got irritated and Dex and I decided to skip this cave. We parked near a field because Dex had been told there was an interesting cave on the other side of it. Sloshing through rice patties is not easy in flip flops and I realized I had chosen my footwear poorly.

We couldn’t find the caves and sloshed back again. I noticed Dex had a habit of walking far ahead of me and I started to get irritated. We stopped for lunch and then went to find another cave temple. I took this picture as we scooted over a little bridge where children were jumping into the water below.

Arrived at the next cave temple to find that this time the locals had up a sign so at least it felt more legit (even though I’m sure it’s not legal) to give them money. We walked to the base of the limestone cliffs and I knew that I really had made a poor decision with the flip flops as it was pretty much a straight up climb to the caves. Again, Dex zipped ahead of me until he was out of sight and I was left negotiating wet rock, mud and the possibility of a broken leg with my stupid footgear. By the time I reached the entrance to the cave, Dex was already deep inside. I decided it was against my better judgment to follow him and stayed in the mouth of the cave – I’d prefer not to cash in my traveler’s insurance to get air-lifted out of Laos. The cave really was enormous, with a tiny Buddha in the center and I was disappointed I’d not worn my sneakers.

After about 45 minutes, Dex reappeared and we started to descend – which was even more difficult in flipflops and a camera bag. I had to take the shoes off so I wouldn’t slip, I was stepping on jagged rock and I had to shift my bag down ahead of me for each level so I wasn’t wearing it and off-balance. And of course, Dex absolutely lended me no hand whatsoever and just hopped down the side of the cliff like a monkey and was relaxing on a picnic bench when I appeared. At this point, I was LIVID. I stalked past him to the creek nearby to rest my bruised and battered feet.

We rode back into town in mostly silence. A huge storm blew up and I hunkered down for a nap… not waking up until midnight. Nothing to do really but go back to sleep or go to a bar. I went back to sleep.

Monday, June 2nd

Decided I’d had enough of Vang Vieng and caught an early bus to Luang Prabang the next morning. While waiting for the bus, I met a lovely British girl named Rachel and we decided to sit together. We chatted all the way to LP and figured we might as well bunk together too. Found a guest house down a little alleyway, dumped our stuff and headed out to wander around. LP is adorable. Colonial buildings, temples and the lovely Mekong river flowing by. We wandered down main street and ended up stopping for tea and cookies (at US prices…sheesh) at a cute café. Ended up chitchatting with a nice older couple from Chicago before continuing our tour of town. Rachel currently lives and works in Ventienne for an NGO that specializes in fair-pay for women. The company she works for weaves beautiful scarves, which Rachel designs. She was taking a short excursion to LP to do a little research for design ideas.

We arrived late in the day and negotiated a tuk-tuk with several other tourists. Boy, do they try to get you, those drivers. He tried to demand 5 dollars a person. One person making 30 dollars for a 10 minute ride is just ridiculous. We negotiated down to 3 dollars a person which was still highway robbery. Frankly, I don’t even think taxi drivers in NYC make that much in ten minutes. We ended up on the main drag in Luang Prabang and wandered around until we found a guest house. Two little boys were playing Nintendo inside the main house and didn’t want to get up to help us. Eventually an older woman came out to greet us and Rachel talked to her. We were led back into a small courtyard and shown a little room.

As we set our stuff down and decided what to do with ourselves, a small ginger kitten appeared in the doorway. He heaved his roly-poly belly up over the doorframe and strolled right in like he owned the place. He was so tiny, snack-sized. So I named him Snack. We played with him for a bit until he piddled on the bed… then we decided to head out. Wandered around Main street to get a feel for the town, stopped in the internet café and then had dinner together at a fairly non-descript restaurant. A night market had set up while we were eating so we perused a bit and then headed back. We were both kind of pooped.

Tuesday, June 3rd

Luang Prabang is quite an adorable, French colonial-style village. The next morning we breakfasted at a cute little Scandinavian café where I had an amazing croissant sandwich. Afterwards, we checked out the main street and thought we’d hit up a temple, only to find that it was closed.

Instead, we explored a textiles shop and then headed halfway up Phu Si Mountain (not all the way up as to go to the top cost money and we weren’t feeling that up for the climb.

Later, we perused an outdoor market area and then headed around the corner to a textile museum nearby. Interesting place – featuring costumes of the many, many tribes in the area and continued down the main street until we came upon a café and decided it was tea time.

(really good ginger cookies and tea)

A middle-aged American couple sat next to us and turned out to be from Illinois. I ended up chatting with the woman and Rachel moved over to chat with the husband until I realized we were missing the golden hour of light. We headed towards the Mekong where we were chatted up by a snake-wine sales guy

(no thanks, we're full from cookies and tea!)

and sat for a long time watching the sun set over the fast-flowing river.

Dinner is a shared sandwich (yum!) and a couple of glasses of wine at a local bar.

(such good bread!)

Our waiter is…well… hot. Really hot. His name is John and chats with us quite a bit. He invites us to come by tomorrow night, if we’re interested, and he’ll take us to a local bar.

Wednesday

Up in the morning to find that Snack has a brother – Jack.

Also, there are two boys who appear to live behind our room, just off the courtyard and work for the guesthouse. Before we leave our room, I hear them practicing and singing, “Hotel California” – I just can’t get away from this song. Rachel had to do her own errands and research today so I decided it would be a good time to check out the local scenery.

Everything is so lush and green with gorgeous rolling hills, I thought it would be a good idea to rent a bike for the day (they do not rent mopeds to tourists). I struck out across town and tried not to get nervous by the mopeds whizzing by me. Way out beyond town I came to a fork in the road. I took a right first but after about 10 minutes the paved road became a dirt road which became a mud road, with mud so thick you could barely walk through it – forget biking. I turned around and headed back. Choosing the left fork this time, I had a little bit better luck with the road, although some mud got pretty extreme in places. At one point, I passed a couple of children.

I stopped on the side of the road to figure out where to go when the children passed me and ducked down a little side path. I decided to check it out, I could hear a brook and I was looking for waterfalls. After tying up my bike, I headed down the path and over a bamboo bridge. I wandered for a while before coming onto another bamboo bridge that was really quite scenic.

I stopped to take pictures when several children (not the same ones) appeared below, swimming. I think I startled them. They exited the water and ran past me, one of them pausing for me to take his picture.

I let them get ahead of me, enjoying the sounds of the burbling water – no traffic, no voices, nothing. Eventually I got up and continued down the path where I realized I’d basically walked onto someone’s farm. I waved nicely at the man sitting on the porch of his bamboo hut and turned and walked back. I thought I could hear a waterfall but never did find it. Back on the bike, I continued down the road for some time. The road was getting progressively muddier although the scenery was gorgeous. I really enjoyed the huts with little to no walls, and yet have satellite dishes parked on the thatched roofs. Pretty amazing. Eventually I had to turn around and bike back. It started to sprinkle a little on my way back so I decided to take a quick break in a roadside café where a naked boy frolicked in the dirt and climbed up onto a picnic table in order to aim his tiny boy bits out at passing traffic and urinate. The family was parked inside, watching television while lounging on ancient plastic chaise lounges, not minding their three year old boy playing pretty much in traffic. I noticed this a lot in my travels – small children were on their own as far as dodging traffic and, in India in particular, wandering livestock.

The rain didn’t amount to much so I headed back into town and had a sandwich at the Scandinavian bakery again. Stopped by the guesthouse where I heard a plaintive "mewing" noise to find poor Snack high above me on a fench.

Took him down and brought him in out of the mild drizzle.

Eventually caught up with Rachel and we got ready to go back to John’s café. We weren’t sure if we were going to get John into trouble if he went out with us but we were looking forward to the evening. When he was done with work, his friend Mark showed up and we hopped on the backs of their bikes and headed out. There is nothing quite like being on the back of a bike out in the country on a warm night with thousands of stars overhead. We whirred along, eventually coming to a bridge that was quite narrow. We zinged across and a moment later were at one of the ubiquitous SE Asian bars that are basically just an open-air shelter with tables surrounded by hundreds of plastic chairs.

John. Hel-lo! Look at those cheekbones.

Rachel and Mark

A good time was had, although we didn’t stay out too late as Rachel was getting up in the early a.m. to go back to Vientiane.

Thursday

Woke up in the early gray light. Rachel somehow got me out of bed. Every morning we’d been woken up around 5:30 or so by the sound of drums and Rachel told me I should come out and see the alms-giving to the monks. Sure enough there was a line of monks coming down the road, their saffron robes intense in the bleak gray dawn. I said goodbye to Rachel, who whisked off in a tuk-tuk

and was immediately approached by a local woman who wanted to sell me rice and bananas to give to the monks. I followed her instructions (watching some other foreign women doing the same) and sat on the curb, on my knees, feet pointing away from the monks. Silently, they came down the line, opening their bowls to receive the warm sticky rice and a banana.

I went through several containers of rice and bananas before realizing the local woman was royally gouging me. Making money off of alms-giving –the nerve! I refused to give her more money after that and she argued for a moment and then I think realized knew she’s already made a tidy bundle, might as well be “charitable” after that. Eventually the monks wandered back to their temple to eat and I went back to bed.

When I awoke again, it didn’t appear to be getting any nicer out, unfortunately, and today was the day I had booked a tour out to the waterfalls. I met my group after a quick bite at the Scandinavian café (the croissant sandwiches were so good but yeah, I was definitely in a rut) and we were loaded into a van. It wasn’t raining yet but there were some troublesome looking clouds on the horizon. We drove about 30 miles to the Kouangxi waterfalls. There was an enclosure on the walk up to the falls that housed Moon Bears. Pretty cute guys.

There was also a tiger enclosure but I didn’t see the tiger. The waterfalls were simply stunning. You could climb up to see them from above but it was too slippery so I stayed down.

Next, we drove to a Mekong Hill tribe village. This would have been interesting except for the begging for money. For every picture I took, I had to shell out dough. The little girls running around all had garish make-up on (blue eyeshadow and pink rouge).

I didn’t stick around long. Heading back to the van, I saw two girls no older than 8 (or younger?) coming towards me with babies literally strapped to their backs. I snapped a secret picture but the girls heard the camera and demanded money. I wanted out of there fast.

Back in town, I organized a flight back to Vientiane, internetted, uploaded photos and then went walking down by the Mekong.

I watched a couple of boys fishing and took their picture. They started smiling because they realized I was there.

The rain had stopped so there was a very pretty pink sunset. I walked back to John’s restaurant for dinner. John and Mark invited me to go out to a club with them afterwards and I said sure. Very interesting club, had a slide show for Malaysian Tourism going on while everyone was dancing. Mark offered to take me to the airport the next day. Home to bed just as it started raining again.

Friday morning – breakfast and packing, saying good bye to Snack and Jack. The guesthouse boys are practicing “Hotel California again but it’s not quite right. I grab my iPod and speakers and knock on their door. They look pretty happy when their song starts playing and the one with the guitar strums along as best he can. I go to meet Mark who works at a Tourism agency. He puts my camera bag around his neck and I get on back of his bike with my backpack on. It is starting to sprinkle, so I open my umbrella over us as I have seen other ladies do.

Let me tell you, not easy to keep an umbrella open on a moped.

The airport was quite small. I thanked Mark for the ride and went inside. Waiting for my plane, I watched a British couple with their three children. The mother was playing the high-five game with her young son (maybe two years old?) but she wasn’t about to let him win. “High five (slap), up high (slap), down low (he tries to slap, she yanks her hand away) too slow!” At first he was delighted and demanded another go. But after a half dozen times, he was livid – and yet she kept going! This should have been a really annoying spectacle but the entire waiting room was entranced. How long was she going to continue to pull the rug out from under him. The child was turning red faced “Mummy!!!!” Dad was trying not to laugh. Again, again they played, and she didn’t let him win. The child was losing his mind. Finally, the little boy sees a window of opportunity and grabs his mother’s hand when she brings it low and forces her to keep still so he can slap her hand. I think it was a good life lesson – not even your mother is gonna let you win so you have to take things into your own hands.

Back in Vientiane, I headed to my former guesthouse and picked up my Vietnamese visa. Then it was off to DHL to pick up my sensor cleaner that Jess had sent! Hurray! She also, very thoughtfully, had sent along a ginormous memory card that would no doubt last me the rest of the trip. Clutching my booty, I then went to the Airline agency to check on my reservation for that evening. Unfortunately, I had lost it since they hadn’t heard from me! I could go out the next day so I organized with Rachel to stay the night with her. Wandered about Vientiane a little bit – not really much to see.

Stopped for some roadside noodles then went to meet up with Rachel at the chain coffee shop near the main tourist drag and went to dinner around the corner. There were some exceedingly drunken girls in the bar area of the eatery. They provided quite the entertainment with their weaving and slurring and falling on their male friends. Back to Rachel’s flat in a very nice hotel run by the woman she worked with. We chitchatted until the wee hours.

The next morning I hiked across town to a market. I was having a severe luggage problem and this market sold just about everything. Picked up some Beer Laos tshirts and a cheap wheeled duffle. Walked back to the flat and repacked then it was off to the airport for my flight to Hanoi. I was sad to not get a chance to say goodbye to Rachel and see where she worked but I ran out of time. Upon arrival at the airport, I realized I was way over the baggage limit at this point. I did my best to stash everything. I also had a bit of Laos money left so I hit the Duty-Free shop for some Laos coffee for Dad and two packages of some unknown substance that had centipedes on the front for David and Owen. Flight was uneventful but the scenery was so lovely and green.

Southern Vietnam

Next morning, a van picked me up for my journey to Vietnam. We had an hour by van to the Mekong River where we’d make the rest of the trek by boat. We were on the first boat for about 45 minutes before stopping at the border where we passed a group of Western tourists making the exact opposite journey. After customs, we had a quick bite to eat and boarded a new boat. The ride down the river was relaxing. We passed other boaters and many young boys and girls swimming.

When we arrived in Chau Doc we were picked up by men in bicycle rickshaws. Oh crud, I thought, remembering Chad’s decree. It turns out they were already paid for, so I didn’t fret too much. We were then taken through the rather personality-less town to a personality-less hotel and dropped off with the promise that we’d be picked up the next morning at 6:30 a.m. for a trip up to a mountainside temple and our next boat ride.

I dumped my stuff off in my room and headed out to wander around the town. First stop was an ATM where I had my first experience with a lot of dong. And, as you might have figured, the first of many dong-related jokes. (censor for grandmother) It was a little nerve-wracking to take out millions of dong. I didn’t find much in the way to do in the town so I decided to stop for a late lunch and try my first roadside pho. On the corner near my hotel was a woman with a plastic table dishing out steaming noodles in bowls.

I gestured I’d have one and she grinned at me and waved me to sit down at her table. She ladled out the noodles and poured in the broth with some sort of mysterious meat. She then added basil and mint leaves and sprouts. It was really delicious and I knew at that moment I'd be eating a lot of pho while in Vietnam. As I stuffed my face, the woman was chatting with her friend, laughing and gesturing at me. She then reached out and tugged at my cheek. I don't think anyone's done that since I was a baby.

After my dinner, I was feeling pretty tired so I returned to the hotel to veg for a little bit. I watched some dreadful movie while lying on my bed with the balcony door open. It was still early so I went out again to check my email in an internet cafe filled with screaming little boys playing video games against each other. Southeast Asia seems to be the online gaming capitol of the world. And the Vietnamese language screamed by little boys at each other? Terrifying. Later there seemed to be a commotion happening outside the cafe. Just around the corner a building was going up in flames. The entire town seemed to have turned out to watch. I ran into an Israeli girl who had been on my boat and we decided to get a bit of dessert before heading back. However nothing was open so we resorted to a cocktail and a nice chat.

I realized the next morning that when I had sat watching the movie with the balcony open, I had been bitten on almost every square inch of my legs from the knee down (where my camo pants/capris end).

After a quick breakfast, we were packed into a van and driven up Sam Mountain (most of the way) and walked the remaining steep hill to a beautiful temple overlooking miles of rice paddies. Back in the van, our guide proposed to me (I was seated up in front with him) and spent the next 45 minutes trying to convince me to marry him. We were driven back to the waterfront where women in face masks helped us into wooden skiffs they then guided out into the river, standing over us.

We docked at what looked like a floating house with a patio but was in fact a fish farm. In the center of the patio was a large cutout that was literally teeming with fish. Our guide tossed a handful of fish food in to the hole and the fish went bananas.

Next, we boarded our skiffs again and were taken to a small village where we learned a little about the weaving they did there but mostly were pressed into buying souvenirs. I had met two young men from Utah on my tour who were named Braiden and Braden. Nice kids, still in college and roaming around Southeast Asia on their break. They both decided to buy the iconic triangle hat and since it's really only women who wear it, two little girls pointed and giggled at them and asked sweetly, "Sisters?"

This time we were rowed out to a larger boat but first I managed to lose my sunglasses by removing my hat, which had my sunglasses underneath. Plink! Right into the Mekong. My lady rower made a valiant effort to grab them before they submerged but failed. Once on the larger boat, the Bra(i)dens and I retired to the top deck despite the looming dark clouds. Soon lunch was served and we docked long enough for me and a French girl and her parents to be kicked off to continue our tour up to Can Tho. We just made it into the van when the heavens opened. Something about a car ride in pouring rain... and I'm instantly asleep.

Woke up as we arrived in Can Tho, and was not too pleased with my hotel. It appeared to be still under construction and the entrance was down a narrow alley way lined with what appeared to be stalls selling hardware. They had booked me into a room with a stranger and I balked. For three more dollars I could have my own room so I decided to splurge. I guess I still hadn't recovered from my parasite infection and I was still often exhausted. I fell asleep for an hour or two, had bizarre dreams and woke up with no idea where I was. Stepped out to walk around a little although it was getting dark and the area of Can Tho I was in was pretty personality-less, stopped into a strange grocery store/shopping mall to stock up on snacks and then went to find dinner. Along the waterfront (which was much nicer) was a little restaurant where I recognized my hotel's desk clerk enjoying his meal. He waved me in and recommended the snake. I waffled but figured it was now or never. I decided to go with the fried snake. When it came out, I have to say I wished it didn't look so snakey.

It didn't really taste like much...chewy with a vague fishy-ness. I only got through (well... half of it) because of the cilantro thrown on it and copious amounts of beer. When I gave up, my waiter asked if I'd like to try the snake wine. Sure, why not. He came back with a small shot glass of whiskey-looking drink. I threw it back, tasted like a currant-y liquor of some type.

I asked what sort of snake was used and he said black snakes mostly and gestured to the back of the restaurant. There, sitting up on a counter, was a large glass jug filled with coiled dead black snakes nestled in a brownish liquid. Thank goodness I saw that jug after I'd had the wine.

An Australian couple had seated themselves nearby and also seemed to be enjoying copious amounts of beer. We got to chatting and eventually I left my table to join them (we were the only people in the restaurant). They told me about the various taxi ripoffs they'd run into so far in Vietnam. One taxi driver tried to tell them that their 15000 dong ($1) fare was actually 15 US dollars (and they'd only been in the car for about 5 minutes) and they had to get their tour guide to argue with him. Next time they got in a cab they realized the fare was going up too fast and the taxi driver was going in circles. Now I was really wary of all Vietnamese transportation. Turns out we were all part of the same tour group so we headed back to the same hotel. I realized tomorrow I'd have to find a bar to watch the Man U game at midnight.

Next morning, we had a boat tour of the floating market and a noodle factory. I didn't have time to run out and find breakfast so I popped my malaria medicine (particularly concerned about all those mosquito bites) and ate a banana (while singing, "Malariaaaaa, ma-lar-i-aaaaa" to the tune of "Aquarius" from Hair... which I sung almost every day). Our group was guided to the waterfront where we got on a narrow boat and headed down river.

Somewhere along the ride I knew something was going terribly wrong in my innards. My gut bubbled and wheezed and suddenly I felt my face prickle. I thought it might be the snake turning on me. All too familiar with this sensation (although it had been 2 months), at the last possible moment, I casually got up from my seat and headed to the very back of the boat as if just checking out the view and the watercrafts out on the river and when I was sure the motor drowned me out and no one was watching, oh look! what is that in the water? -- I heaved my banana over the side. I felt instantly better except for wondering what was that about? I blamed the snake and sat down again.

First stop was the floating market, which was such a disappointment. All the guide books show it as this picturesque event where women in conical hats float about in their skiffs filled to the brim with exotic fruits. In reality, the first boat was a father and son duo selling Coca Cola (which was actually pretty welcome in my current state). It was not picturesque.

We had to get into a smaller boat to maneuver around the "market," and I was not impressed. But we got more pineapple and that was okay.

(dirty DIRTY sensor!)

Next, back on the original boat, we putt-putted over to the rice powder factory

(which probably breaks every health code violation if it was in the US) and from there to a noodle factory that also seemed to double as a pig farm.

I had the unfortunate moment of walking around a bend in the path to come upon a farmer gutting piglets into the stream. After lunch (appetite was strangely still healthy), we headed back to the hotel to retrieve our luggage. It was time to head for Saigon.

I loved checking out all the roadside cafes in Vietnam as we hurled in a packed bus towards Ho Chi Minh City (I prefer Saigon). Every cafe featured a dozen tables or more with 2 or three hammocks hanging around each of them. Genius. I'm guessing this would not really catch on in America as we are not encouraged to linger at our eating establishments.

There was an older man on the bus who was placed next to me. He did not look well. I noticed that his back was covered in red welts from an Eastern therapy "Cupping."

Said goodbye to the Australians upon reaching HCMC. They were booked at a five-star hotel in town as it was the end of their trip and they felt like celebrating. Apparently, while web prices remained high, they had called the hotels directly and bargained with them. The hotel industry is suffering so much I guess they managed to get a room at a rockbottom price and were pretty pleased with themselves. As for me, I had been paying 6-10 bucks on hotel rooms per night for the past two months and couldn't fathom rejoicing over finding a five-star hotel room for 75 bucks. The bus took us directly to the most backpackery part of town. As is my habit, I didn't go for the guest house the bus company wanted us to stay in but instead took my gear and headed down the street. Every hotel owner beckoned me in, but eventually I settled for a nondescript place... and instantly regretted it. Not because there was anything wrong with it other then the fact that there were SCREAMING CHILDREN EVERYWHERE. There are several rooms on each floor but it's also very clearly someone's house, which is weird. It's got a very official lobby with check-in desk.. yet there are baby clothes hanging on a rack next to it, toys scattered and someone asleep on a floor mat. I collapsed in my bed for a few minutes and then went out in search of dinner. There was a barbecue joint across the way and I wanted to find a good place to watch the Champion League game between Man United and Chelsea. I sat down and saw that the game was already playing. That can't be right. It wasn't due to start until midnight. Then i realized... I was watching highlights from the game... that had played the night before. I'd gotten my dates mixed up. While I was out eating snake, I missed the darn game.

The barbeque was delicious but I was pretty annoyed with myself for missing the big game. Man United had one and apparently it had been an amazing game. I texted with BF (the only MU fan I know) about it (I also thought abou tmy poor little Irish boys from Chiang Mai and how sad they must be as Chelsea fans) and then headed downstairs and sat down at the bar for a drink. The jukebox was playing Led Zeppelin when a young man with a mohawk came up beside me to order a drink. He was British and invited me to join him and his friends outside. A couple of Americans, Brits, and Aussies, all pretty boozed up. They welcomed me into their fold.



Shortly, they decided it was time to go dancing and we piled into cabs to go to Apocalypse Now! (really) which turned out to be packed and over-priced. Sorry, I don’t pay six dollars for a beer…if I can help it. Particularly not in Vietnam. Luckily, I was not the only one annoyed so we left pretty quickly and returned to the original bar. One of the guys asked if I’d like to get brunch with him the next day and I agreed. I then walked back to the hotel to find it shuttered for the night. There was a button on the wall, which I pressed and a sleepy woman came to the door, unshuttered it and let me in. I stepped over her family members asleep on mats on the floor and crept upstairs. It was only 11 or so.

Next morning, I was determined to find a camera shop to a) somehow clean my sensor and b) restore my ailing memory cards. I was down to just one card working as the others were teeming with viruses, picked up from all the different computers I had been using across the world. And because I had only the one card working, I had to find an internet café every day to empty it. I walked around the neighborhood, found a huge electronics store but no luck with any camera cleaner. It was heating up already and the smell of durian fruit kept wafting past me. It is probably one of the most hideous smells in the world. This fruit smells like a latrine with dead fish in it. I’ve never tasted it because I don’t want to know what taste goes with that smell (although I guess one can’t really judge taste by smell or one wouldn’t eat cheese). I’d been smelling it since Thailand and even now when I wander through Chinatown and smell it, I’m right back in SE Asia.

I was supposed to meet the guy at 12 at the same bar/cafe from the night before. My wanderings had taken me a little farther from the café than I’d thought so I didn’t get there until 12:05. He was not there. I sat down to order a Vietnamese coffee, which I was quickly falling in love with. They bring a small glass to you with about a half inch of condensed milk at bottom and a small metal filter sitting on top. The coffee drips out very veeeeeery slowly. Still no date. I order breakfast – eggs and a baguette. Because of the French, the Vietnamese make some darn tasty baguettes – light and crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside – perfection with a little butter and jam. And the jam in Vietnam was much better than the jam in India, which tasted like Red Vines candy smushed up.

Date never showed up so I decided I’d better get out and see a little bit of Saigon. I had heard about the War museum from a couple of the guys last night. They were going to head there today so I thought I’d check it out. I decided to walk there, which truly tested my motorbike dodging skills. You wouldn’t believe how many there are. At a red light, literally hundreds bunch up, drivers waiting. They tend to wear hats, facemasks and gloves.

At first I thought it was because of pollution and then I realized they were a lot like the Indians in that they hid from the sun. Some even wore jackets with curious flaps that are intended to hang down over the tops of your hands. Out on the streets of Saigon, it’s like an army of pastel ninjas zooming around on their mopeds.

I arrived at the museum an hour before it was due to close. The weather looked like it was about to turn as well. The museum consists of a plane out front in the courtyard, a mock set-up of the “tiger pits” off to one side and an open layout room with walls full of graphic photos. Photos, I imagine, that were not shown in the US. Pretty awful stuff.

Just as I was finishing up in an outbuilding that was dedicated to photos by and of war photographers (many of whom died in action), the sky opened up. The downpour didn’t last long and eventually I emerged from the giftshop with the other museum patrons and headed back out into the streets. However, about half an hour later, it started to rain again which led me to witness the (I’m sure pretty frequent) sight of hundreds of moped drivers and their passengers abruptly pulling over to the curb to quickly throw on ponchos which they keep under the seat.

The rain was not letting up so I purchased a roadside poncho and kept walking home. Unloaded my overworked memory card at an internet cafe and headed to my hotel. Waiting for the rain to let up so I could go find dinner, I watched a little tv and then headed to bodega store on the corner for some snacks. There, I ran into the Mohawk boy who told me that he and his group were having a party in the girls’ room and I should join them. We pick up some beer and head to the hotel (but first I pick up a seriously tasty Vietnamese sandwich [banh mi] from a small cart outside) where the party is in full swing. Jack, the Texan, has instigated a drinking game of some sort, where you “race” cards to the finish line and the losers have to drink. There was a lot of “losing.”

By the way, the guy who stood me up was there. He said he showed up at the café but when I didn’t show, he left. Thanks for waiting five minutes, buddy. Finally, the guesthouse owner appeared and asked us to take the party elsewhere. It was 8 o'clock, after all and some people want to sleep. Back to the same bar as the last night, but on the second floor where there was dancing and a pool table. I decided eventually to call it a night (plus I didn’t want to stay out late and wake my hotel’s owner up again). It was pretty early but yet again, the hotel was closed up for the night.

(View from the club -- how about that wiring!)

Next morning, I continued my search for a computer store and found one! It was a dinky hole in the wall with a little nerdy guy working there (surprise! A computer nerd!). Or, not working actually as he was fully engaged in an online game when I walked in. He was very nice and it took awhile but eventually he figured out how to debug my cards AND my hard drives. Since it was taking some time to do each, I went down the street for some pho and then decided to hire a driver to take me to Reunification Palace, the scene of the end of the Vietnam War. Amazing building – the 1960s architecture and interior design is fantastic – shag rugs, orange and brown and avocado. Bars in the conference rooms. So great. The war rooms in the basement are pretty interesting as well.

My moped driver waited around for me and flagged me down when I came out. I guess business is slow -- best to hold onto your customers. Upon return to the computer store, I saw my trusty little nerd was done with my cards and hard drives and was reinstalling his computer (as it had become infested with viruses while trying to fix mine. We chatted a little – I asked if he had a girlfriend. He said no, nobody wants to marry a poor man. I gather up my stuff and nervously asked how much these hours of work were going to cost me. He goes to talk to his supervisor and comes back with a figure: 100,000 dong. Or six dollars. I happily gave him a ten dollar tip. Hopefully that’ll be a step towards getting a girlfriend. But considering he went right back to his computer game…probably not.

With a swing in my stride, I went back to the hotel to check on my stuff, check my email and get ready for my night bus to Nha Trang. Uploaded new pictures to flickr and decided to have dinner at an Italian place across the street. Drank wine while watching geckos lose their footing on the ceiling and plop suddenly to the floor - usually stunned but okay.

Bus stopped to pick me up around 9 p.m. I was immediately berated for getting on the bus in my shoes. I never remember that stuff. Vietnamese night buses are unlike Thai night buses in that they have narrow individual beds instead of reclining seats (this blogger has a good shot). There are three rows. I was limited in my choice as the bus was pretty full so I clambered up into the bunk by the door and tried to figure out where my stuff was to go. Not to mention my water bottle, ipod, etc. Turns out my bag goes behind the headrest area and you just have to sleep with your water, ipod etc. I climbed into my sleep sack and pulled the flimsy bus-supplied blanket over me.

And just like Thai buses, as soon as you’re falling asleep, they stop for dinner. Another bleary-eyed supper of pho and back on the bus. I didn’t sleep too well, surprise surprise, and in fact didn’t really fall dead asleep until just before I was rudely awakened as we entered Nha Trang (again... just like Thai buses). The morning sun was extremely bright through the windshield and the bus stopped abruptly to let us out at their chosen hotel. I was completely disoriented, unable to grasp exactly what was going on, and I was not the only one. A blonde Canadian woman and her equally blonde but silent boyfriend/husband were trying to wake up and get their stuff off the bus as well. The driver was cantankerous, shouting at us to hurry up. Nobody wants to wake from a dead sleep at 6 a.m. while getting shouted at! Bewilderment faded, replaced by irritability and I shouted back as I grabbed my bag from under the bus. The Canadian girl told me had no intentions of staying at that hotel and was in fact meeting some friends at a different hotel so I asked to if she'd mind if I followed her and her bf. She introduced herself as Sharon and the guy was actually just a friend she’d met in Saigon, a rather quiet New Zealander named Craig. We got to know each other as we hiked through the mostly silent streets, enjoying the early morning sun. Saigon had been rather overcast most days. Nha Trang was also different in that there was little to no traffic. The hotel was a block from the beach, which was exciting! We checked in and found out that Sharon’s friend was actually staying with Craig’s friend. They’d met in Saigon and apparently...um... hit it off. Our room wasn’t ready yet, so the hotel put us in another room so we could sleep until check-in. But Craig and I were no longer tired so we left Sharon to go find breakfast. More coffee, more baguettes later, we went back, found a groggy Sharon, moved into the room we decided to share as it had three beds and hit the beach. I went down to a street corner where I’d seen a man with an air-pump and petrol for motorbikes in order to fill the raft I’d been carrying with me for the past 2 weeks. I knew it’d come in handy at some point! Sharon and Craig had found some lovely chaise lounges and were fending off the local women trying to sell them fruit, candy, trinkets, etc. The raft was a big hit.

Strange beach. There was a steep dropoff only feet from the shoreline. The water wasn’t terribly warm either. But it was certainly pretty.

We were there most of the day. Mark and Delmelza eventually appeared (very smiley) as well as another girl (whose name I am afraid I can’t recall). We went out to dinner together that evening where we tried the delicious local Dalat wine. Next, we found a nightclub that was not terribly busy, but had local children on the dance floor. I tried to take a picture and was reprimanded by the staff.

Then we went to a more backpacker-friendly establishment where we drank some sort of crazy concoction out of a coconut and played pool… badly.

Craig and I faced off with a Vietnamese shark-lady. She was ruthless and very uptight about the rules… unless she broke them. She was winning until she sank the white ball at the end of the game and furiously stomped off.

Next morning, we had decided to go on the three island boat trip. We were picked up early and taken to the docks. Our guide/boat captain was a very genial fellow who was wearing some American from Michigan’s cast-off “Class of 03!” high school senior class t-shirt, complete with the “03” on the back filled with teenage signatures. The first island we went to was for snorkeling. No sea lice this time. The kids were jumping off the roof deck of the boat into the water. I tried it and promptly lost my bikini top. The second stop was an island that had about 4 feet of beach on it. We had about an hour there, Sharon and I put down our towels and were promptly sprayed with sand by the kids playing soccer… on the four feet of beach. Also happening on the four feet of beach? Parasailing. We watched as a young woman is strapped into vest, the parasail on the ground behind her. At the signal, the power boat out in the bay would jerk forward and a man pulling the rope just ahead of the woman would yank her into a run and then DIVE into the water to avoid her feet as she’s whipped up into the air. The entire ride appeared to only last about 6 minutes. After watching them return from a swing out and around the bay and the woman floating lightly down into the water where she’s immediately picked up in the boat and brought back, I was sold. I hopped up and went over to the beach workers. How much? Fifteen bucks. Deal. Before I could ask how long the wait was, I was being strapped into a vest! I ran back to the towels to get my money – Sharon and Craig looked astounded at my brashness. In the next minute, I was hooked up, yanked into a run and flying off my feet up into the clouds. Some people hang on to their straps but I spent most of my ride in the “starfish” position

Back on land, exhilarated and breathless, I sat with Sharon, nibbling on ice cream and watching other riders going up.

That poor man who pulls the riders into a run before the rope tightens and the fly up into the air (ON FOUR FEET OF SAND) just keeps diving under the waves at the knick of time in order to not get knocked in the face by flailing legs. He’d shake himself off and wait for the return of the boat. Now that’s a hard job.

Back on our boat, it was lunch time. And lunch was sea urchin soup. There had been a big bucket full of living sea urchins when we’d gotten on the boat and now I knew why.

Not too bad. Also glorious slices of pineapple one dunks into a pile of red pepper salt. Then they cleared off the group table, set up a rudimentary drum kit and brought out a guitar and microphone - apparently it was karaoke time! Only it was all Vietnamese songs… and there were only 3 Vietnamese tourists on the boat. The rest were white and bewildered. But we nodded along and eventually he sang a Beatles song so we could join in.

At the third island, we anchored and our captain leaped into the water. His shipmates tossed him a floating Styrofoam “bar” a couple bottles of “wine” and some plastic cups. Inner tubes were tossed into the water for us to use and we were invited to “join him at the bar.” “Taste like Petrol! Buy at petrol station! Terrible wine!” And yes, it was pretty bad but our captain was very funny.

From http://www.joelcarillet.com/photoblog (this guy looks remarkably like our captain)

The final stop was an aquarium. It was actually not too shabby. Huge sea turtles swam in lazy circles in a pool outside. There was one main tank inside filled with “businessmen fish” (all very fast, have places to go, people to see, busy busy busy, okay everybody go that way!) and other gorgeous sea creatures as well as individual tanks. Eventually it was time to head back to shore. I decided to take a night bus to Hoi An that evening, as did Mark and Craig. Sharon and Delmelza would take a day bus the next day. My bus was due to leave at 8 so I grabbed myself some dinner and waited outside the hotel for my ride. Everybody else went to dinner. I waited and waited. No bus. There was a family who owned a little sidewalk stand set up nearby. Their two children came over to play near me. I got out my camera and they posed up a storm. I’d give them a pose and they’d strike it. “Okay! Now do Blue Steel!” I’d pout my lips and squint my eyes, and they’d do the same. Adorable.

Then they’d practically tackle me, jumping into my arms and scrambling up into my lap in order to look over the pictures. I took so many photos, I asked their father for his email so I could send them. Finally, he took my picture holding the kids and as he put the camera down, he smiled at me with his children and said, “You take? Souvenir of Vietnam?”

The bus was so late that Sharon, Craig etc were coming back from dinner when it arrived. Craig’s own bus was due soon and as it turns out, later that night, when we stopped for sleepy midnight pho, Craig’s bus pulled in just as we were finishing up. Another crack of dawn arrival found me stumbling around the lovely, sleepy town of Hoi An, looking for lodging. I stopped at a nice hotel but its proximity to the smelly river behind it made me hesitant. The desk clerk allowed me to store my bags while I went looking for food and a tour of town. I emailed Craig to see where he ended up and then found a cute café where I could sit outside and watch the women in conical hats with wooden rods over the shoulders carrying great baskets of bananas and other produce to market.

Coffee, baguette and postcards, I sat there for some time. On my way back to the hotel, I took a turn through the market and started noticing the storefront after storefront of custom made clothing. Hmmm. I stopped in one that had a very nice medium weight coat out front. I found out I could have a custom-made coat in any material, lined, for 30 dollars. Deal! I picked out a mustard wool and instantly, the woman running the store went to work measuring me. You know, while I’m at it, why not a pencil skirt? Always wanted one. In Thai silk? Why not! 15 dollars each? How about two in black and blue shot with pink. How about a blouse and a pair of slacks? But of course! A bit lighter in the pocket, I was told to come back at 5 for my first fitting.

Went back to the internet café and discovered that Craig had arrived and was staying in a gorgeous hotel not far away with A POOL. Now, let me tell you it was in the 90s, and steamy (believe me, I was not looking forward to the fitting of the wool jacket later) and a pool sounded amazing. I went back for my stuff, apologized to the clerk that I’d found my friend at another hotel and wandered over. Craig and Mark were poolside and it was gorgeous. The hotel room was fifteen a night, which was a bit steep for my blood, but I figured it wouldn’t kill me to have soft clean sheets, a/c, cable, gorgeous furniture and the bathroom! OH THE BATHROOM! Modern toilet (no squatting!), gorgeous huge bathtub…and all sparkling clean! I joined the boys by the pool and then went to explore the town again before my fitting.

I was amazed to see how far along my clothes were already. The coat was basically done. The pants were a tad large around my hips and thighs. The shirt was perfect except…well… it was blue. I asked for a white shirt and it was plainly light blue. They insisted it was white. Humph. The skirts were really snug but I liked them.

On my way back to the hotel, I was lured into another shop by a pretty sundress. Next thing I know, I’ve ordered two sundresses and 2 silk dresses. Ridiculous. I rarely shop so I feel justified.

Back at the ranch, Sharon has arrived and is not terribly happy with the price of the hotel but the pool beckons. That night, we head out to find dinner at a cute restaurant on the waterfront after learning the place we wanted to go was closed. We're all feeling kind of beat so we call it an early night and headed back to the hotel. However, once we arrive, the pool looked so inviting that even though it was ten pm and it was most likely closed, we grabbed our suits and snuck in. It felt wonderful! On the way back to my room, I noticed that the door across the hall was open and there was quite a lot of commotion going on inside. There was a lot of swearing and squealing going on. A very muscular young man with a shaved head, popped his head out of the door when he heard my key and I said, “Is everything okay?” “We’ve got a huge fucking spider in here!” He opened the door and his girlfriend was standing up on the bed. I walked in and he pointed to the wall behind the door and yeah, that’s a "huge fucking spider." One of those bird-eating spiders with a body the size of an egg and a leg span the size of a large man’s hand.

In normal spider circumstances, I’d trap it under a glass and take it outside. The man suggested I hit it with a shoe, “Are you kidding?” I asked. “That thing would take the shoe away from you and beat you with it.” I looked around the room until I saw the waste basket. That would do. I popped the wastebasket over the spider and gently slid the waste basket down the wall until the spider got nervous and stepped inside. Then I whisked it upright and slapped a towel over the opening, expecting the spider to leap out and attack my face. Holding the basket at arm’s length and shuddering like mad, we all dashed out into the hotel corridor. But where to take the spider? No open windows to outside the hotel. Only to the pool. I shrugged and dumped the spider into a bush by the pool. Hope I don’t see that thing sunning itself on the chaise lounge next to me the next day. Excitement over, the young man and his girlfriend thanked me and we all headed to our rooms. (I still get heebie-jeebies writing about it)

Next morning, Craig and I had breakfast on the roof of the hotel. Today seemed like a good beach day. We decided to rent mopeds later in the afternoon and head out to Cua Dai beach. First, I had my second fitting of the first set of clothes to go to and the first fitting for the sundresses. The first set of clothes were pretty much done, except the pants needed a final tweaking. The sundresses looked GREAT… so I ordered another one AND another silk dress in different patterns. Then I purchased some Vietnamese coffee filters for myself and as stocking stuffers at the local market.

I met up with the gang and we went next door to the hotel to rent the bikes. At first, Craig offered to drive me around. No way! I want to drive! I’d wanted to drive a moped the whole time I was traveling but in India you’d have to be crazy, in Thailand they call road burns from falling off them “Koh Phangnan tattoos” due to the frequency of accidents and anywhere else in Vietnam was too congested. Hoi An was very quiet and few mopeds. It was six dollars for the day plus petrol. It was a little nerve-wracking at first. Mostly just the starting was awkward. But it was great fun. We roared down the city street and out into the country side, the sun shining over rice paddies. And by “roared” I mean about 20 mph. The locals were ripping past me at far faster speeds.

Once we got to the beach, I realized I forgot my swim suit! Awesome! So I bought a pair of tiny board shorts for four bucks and figured that would do.

The beach was beautiful, of course. There were fisherman in these strange bowl shaped boats out on the water.

As we watched, one beached on the shoreline and a bunch of men ran over and heaved it up out of the surf. Since I was leaving the next day for Laos and my trip was winding down, I realized I was probably seeing my last beach for awhile. As the sun sank lower and the beach sellers became more aggressive, we eventually packed it up and headed back.

The sun setting over the rice paddies was breathtaking and I wish I’d had stopped to take pictures or had more time with the bike. But we were zipping back because Sharon and Craig had met a very nice guy who ran the travel agency across the street from the hotel who’d invited us to go to his favorite local restaurant for “Hot Pot.” And if you say no to invitations to dinner while traveling around Asia, you are really missing out.

I decided to wear one of my new dresses to dinner. After a nice long shower, singing along to my ipod and speakers, I put on my new dress, a little make-up and felt remarkably clean and dressy for the first time in ages…despite wearing flip-flops. I joined the gang at the travel agency and decided to book my bus to Laos at the same time. It looked like it was going to be a rough journey as there are not many check points to and from Vietnam into Laos. I decided I’d head to Vientienne and then North for a few days and then fly to Hanoi. All I knew is that I had to be in Hanoi before Tuesday, June ____ because there were only 2 trains to Beijing every week and the next one was Thursday which would leave me no time to see the Great Wall before flying home. And flights were quite expensive. I could not believe my trip was so close to being over.

We took two taxis out into the country and stopped at a restaurant/house. We were the only diners. I had seen a chicken it its basket of doom outside the kitchen area as we walked in.

(our host)

First, our host taught us how to wrap our own spring rolls. I really quite enjoyed this except that my first couple of tries were just plain lumpy, torn and awkward. But then I finally got it!

Next – out came the hot pot, a boiling broth into our host dumped in noodles, vegetables etc and we all dug in. The chicken was brought out, cut into bits and even included the head, which we were all mesmerized by. But it was delicious and we were all stuffed.

Next we took the taxis back into town to a bar where Craig and I played more pool. Eventually it seemed half our party trickled out and left Craig and I to wander off to find another party. We wandered into a mostly empty bar on the other side of the river where the bartenders let us pick the music on the computer to play.

I chose “Africa” and suddenly a dance party broke out – as much as a dance party can break out when there are roughly 5 people in the place. Headed back pretty late… my time was running out.

Next morning, picked up the last of my clothes and walked around Hoi An a bit. Bought a bunch of silk ties with matching pocket squares for my brothers, father and stylish guy friends. Lunch with Craig then back to the hotel to pack up and wait for the bus. It was looking like it was going to be a brutal journey into Laos. I said good bye to my friends – Sharon, Craig and Mark were off to Hanoi and Delmelza would be moving on to Thailand shortly. She was planning on hitting India after that and I gave her lots of advice. I was pretty jealous that her trip was still warming up while mine was counting down. A smallish bus picked me up for the first leg of the journey to Hue. I was on an overnight double cot, which is interesting. Basically, you’re sharing a small double bed with a stranger on a bus. I was next to a young man who scooted all the way over until he was practically hanging off the bed. I must have cooties. In Hue, we were put on a second larger bus like the overnight buses from Saigon and Natrang. But this time, I was shuffled to the back of the bus – the sardine bed. Where as the rest of the bus gets individual cots, the back of the bus is one big bed and you’re stuck next to total strangers. Craig and Mark had come up from Natrang in the sardine seat and had horror stories of smelly cotmates. I climbed in, happy to be up against the window at least. I arranged myself and prepared to bed down for the evening. There was room for two people next to me. However, a Vietnamese couple and their child climbed in, squashing me up against the window so their kid could be between them. Not fair. They also decided to let their child listen to music on their cell phone – with no ear phones.

I do NOT understand why no one has earphones in Asia and everyone listens to music (staticy, distorted, awful music) on their cell phones. I was royally irritated but just after we stopped for dinner, the young mother sat up and vomited into a bag. They somehow managed to find new seats in the front of the bus and two men took their place. The one next to me was determined to hog my space. First he put his foot where my feet go until I literally kicked him out. I flopped over onto my side, facing the window and he rolls over too… up against me. I shove him away. He moves over again. I shove him away. He flops an arm over me!!! “GET OFF ME!” I yelled. Sufficiently embarrassed, he rolls over to the other side and doesn’t touch me again. Gah! At some point in the middle night, we are switched onto a new bus and the bus driver is determined to stay awake by playing loud music. I am too tired to care – put in my earplugs, wrap myself up and go to sleep. We are almost to Laos.

Koh Phangnan & Siem Reap, Cambodia

With my one good eye, Christian and I watched more House together. I put him in charge of my eye drops as he claimed to be a professional eye dropper after having to stay up for 24 hours putting drops in his girlfriend's eye EVERY TWO HOURS. Ugh. Mine only had to go in every 4 hours. He set his watch and in the middle of the second episode, he stopped the dvd, crouched over me and expertly squeezed two drops into my bright red eye. And again a few hours later, his phone's alarm went off and he got up to administer more drops. And again in the morning. He's a sweetheart.


We were due to catch a 2 p.m. ferry to Koh Phangnan. We found a bus to take us there and said goodbye to the Swiss girls, figuring we'd see them again soon. At some point on the way to the ferry, I saw a sign that advertised a "Monkey Theatre." I imagined some sort of Shakespeare in the Park....but with monkeys.

The ferry was pretty quick and dumped us right where we wanted to be. We decided to just take it easy and find something nearby. We chose a hotel that seemed to be centrally located and 10 dollars a night. Perfect. Christian lay down for a bit and I went wandering, looking for internet. Everything was ridiculously expensive -- and exactly the same price. I couldn't understand it. All these internet cafes were empty but they weren't about to bargain for a lower price. I asked the hotel owner and he said that the travel agencies (which were the ones with the internet cafes) all decided to have the same price. But my hotel also had internet that you used by buying a card, which was much cheaper. Plus! I discovered how to beat the system! Most places, the moment you sit down, the clock starts. But at my hotel, you don't have to log on until you try to go online. So I could sit for hours for free uploading photos and working on my blog and then only spend a few minutes online by copying and posting my blog from Word. Mwahahaha. I saved a bundle!

I stopped by yet another 7-11 and picked up a couple of large Changs and went back to the hotel. Christian was reading "Harry Potter" and I beckoned him out onto our porch where we drank our Changs and watched the sunset.

Dinner at a typical Thai Island restaurant, a bunch of tvs showing movies. We were there for awhile before wandering around, checking out the small town.

Next morning, went to find breakfast and ended up at a cafe that showed all "Family Guy" all the time...unless it was showing "Friends." We ended up watching several episodes. Food wasn't too expensive. Beach time followed. We lay out for awhile and then I decided to go buy a blow-up raft. Thank goodness the swimming area is roped off because I went out on the raft and before I knew it, I was bumping up against the far rope, about to drift out to sea.

Christian’s friend from Australia informed us of a “Cross-dressing Pool Party” later that evening at her hotel. We said we’d come, although we’d most likely be wearing our own clothes.
We ate dinner at a rather chic restaurant that specialized in tapas and then tried to find our way to the party. The roads were a little tricky and we kept finding ourselves at a deadend. We knew it wasn’t that far away, so we decided to walk on the beach on the west side of the island to get there – which was barely a beach. At last we could hear music playing and two men went sprinting by us, one in mad pursuit of the other. It didn’t look like a friendly chase. The pool party was in full swing. Christian jumped right in. I took some pictures and then took the camera to Christian’s friends room and joined them. I had to keep my glasses on – still waiting for my eye infection to go away.

Next morning – Christian and I go back to the Family Guy place. They’re just opening up and we stand there while the owner tries to figure out the DVD player and flat screen tv. It’s almost as if he doesn’t have the tv going all day every day and this is his first time operating it. We’re about to sit down when Christian glances to his right. “What’s wrong with that cat?” He asks. I look over and that was one dead cat, my friends. Matted fur and a little blood on the floor. The owner glances at it and goes back to the tv. His wife is setting chairs out. There is a dead cat in the middle of the floor. Dead. Cat. Christian and I look at each other. Wouldn’t maybe you consider...you know...possibly handling the dead cat situation before opening the restaurant? Doesn’t a DEAD CAT rank a little higher on a list of priorities than, say, finding the Star Wars Family Guy episode in the dvd case? We left. Around the corner we found a nice place for breakfast while Friends played.

Afterwards, Christian was going to meet up with his friend and check out the island. I was going to stay behind and take a snorkeling trip. I also had to book my bus back up to Bangkok and to Cambodia – which the hotel took care of for me. It was going to be a ridiculous bus ride (12 hours back to Bangkok and then 9 hours to Siem Reap. (I don't know why I didn't fly more.)

The snorkel guide picked me up at the hotel. Two Canadian couples were in the truck already. We were taken to a shop to get flippers and then walked out to the beach to get on the boat. We settled in and the boat puttered up the east coast of the island. First stop was a quick hike up to some small waterfalls. Next stop was at a beach for lunch. Then a stop at another beach for swimming. Finally we pulled near some reef and tumbled off the boat for about 20 minutes of snorkeling. The water was a bit murky and there were few fish. The guide promised it would be better at the next site.

Climbed back on board and chugged to a new area while snacking on fresh pineapple. Thailand has the best pineapple I’ve ever had in my life (at least until I get to Vietnam). Sweet, fresh, almost always perfectly ripe. I could eat it all day. I noticed that some of the Canadians were bleeding pretty badly from getting too close to the coral. Eek. My own cut from Krabi had healed nicely.

At the second snorkel site, I saw some ominous clouds were coming up over the island’s hills. Everyone started jumping into the water to swim over to the reef and then the screams started.

At first nothing happened to me, I came up to look around and make sure I wasn’t too far away from the boat when I first heard the others squealing. “Ow!!!! What is that!?!?!” People were swimming madly back to the boat. Then I felt them. Little pin pricks. Thousands of them. Actually it felt like standing on a beach during a windstorm, your body pelted with sand. I couldn’t see what was causing it. I swam back and climbed onto the boat as fast as possible but the pain continued. I looked around and everyone was rubbing off with towels as frantically as they could. Several were bleeding. “Coral?” I asked. “No. Sea Lice!” Basically, as they explained it to me, we were swimming in jellyfish sperm. Ugh. My snorkeling was done. Our guide mixed up a lethal cocktail of coke and Thai Whiskey in a cooler and handed glasses out. That made us feel better. As we sat and enjoyed our cocktails and nursed our rashes, a storm blew up. We turned around and headed back home.

Christian was reading when I got back to the hotel. We decided to go find food eventually but were unsure where to go. Ended up back at Dead Cat Café where I asked if they could put the Star Wars Family Guy on, as I had never seen it. Cat was gone by the way. The power went out about 1 minute before the ending. Then they put Friends on. The power went out 3 times and we finally gave up and went for a walk.
It was raining again so we went back to the hotel and watched one last House episode episode together as it was our last night to hang out. Oh, and I told him that if he’s ever traveling with a girl again and she has to go to the hospital – HE SHOULD GO WITH HER REGARDLESS OF WHAT SHE SAYS. Christian went to sleep and I stayed up to watch more House.

Next morning, we had breakfast and Christian departed. I packed and did some emailing and writing while it rained before eventually heading to the beach one last time when the sun emerged. After about two hours, the sun went away again so I moved to a bar overlooking the beach and watched two dogs have the best freakin’ time EVER with each other. These two dogs made me so happy--- they must have played for 30 minutes, just out of their minds having such an amazing time. Everyone was watching them. They were just so happy, you couldn’t help but grin and watch all the wrestling and chasing and jumping and chasing and rolling and chasing.





I ended up talking to the manager for a bit. He is from Burma/Myanmar and most of his family is still there. He didn’t seem to know if everyone was okay from the typhoon. I can’t imagine. And he can’t go back to check on them as I take it he might not be legally in Thailand. He asked what I wanted to drink and I told him to surprise me so he introduced me to the lady-boy bartender and I told her/him to make me her/his specialty drink (this is something I like to do in New York as well). I was hoping to try something new and exotic. She/he whipped it up, handed me the drink. It was a Sex on the Beach. Ah well.
Two young men from South America sat next to me. We got to talking and eventually they invited me to join them for drinks later. The sky showed not signs of turning blue again, so I decided to head back to the hotel and write. For dinner, I went to a different place than the Dead Cat Café where I could eat, have a Chang and watch a movie. “I Am Legend” was on, which was good since I’d miss the beginning back in Krabi. As I sat there, I realized that the South Americans had arrived and were eating dinner behind me. I joined them and when the movie was over, we wandered out on the beach.
Saturday night was only just revving up. One lone fire twirler worked the meager crowd. The beach was lined with bucket stands – most of them advertising their wares as “Fu—Buckets.” Uh. One of the SA guys disappeared and the other appeared with a bucket for me. I hope he didn’t take the advertising seriously. Music was playing very loudly and I was just too tired of the whole fratboy scene. I made my goodbyes and headed back to the hotel.
Sunday a.m. – a van picked me up to shuttle me to the ferry. It was pretty dreary out, which was good. No one likes to leave the beach when it's a pretty day. I decided to sit outside on the prow of the boat, listening to music as the seaspray whipped my hair around. We briefly stopped in Koh Samui before reaching the mainland. Buses were waiting on the dock to take us to the stop where the bus to Bangkok was waiting. On the drive up country, we were treated to the movie “The Butterfly Effect” (not exactly a new release like the bus ride down and no interesting subtitles) followed by “The Kingdom.”
Once again, I had finally nodded off when the bus came to a halt after midnight (at the exact same rest stop) for dinner. I sleepily crammed in some noodles and climbed on the bus again. We were due to arrive in Bangkok at 6 a.m. and I had a second bus to catch at 8:30 a.m. to Cambodia. This was going to be one looooooong day.
Around 3:30 a.m., my blanket was rudely yanked away from me. Many people have lost a digit or an entire limb for waking me in the past so this was a grievous offense. I sat up with a growl. One of the bus workers was systematically going down the row and swiping everyone’s blankets without so much as a “Good morning.” Apparently we were rolling into Bangkok. Early. REALLY EARLY.
We came to a stop near Khao San Road at 4 a.m. Now what? I fended off touts, hoisted my pack onto my back, picked up my other bags and drowsily wandered down the empty street to the 24 hour McDonald’s. A cup of coffee, my book, and an Egg McMuffin somehow managed to kill 3 hours before I headed out to call home and find the Tourist Agency where the bus was picking me up. I also read an article in a daily paper about a man in Northern Thailand marrying a python:
“ Satian Kenkudlung, 35, married his python because, he says, the giant snake is actually the 600-year-old spirit of his former lover, reincarnated in the form of a snake so that the couple could be together again.”
http://phuketvogue.com/phuket/man-marries-snake-in-thailand/
When I stepped outside, it was a gray dawn and monks in bright orange robes were the only people walking down Khao San Road, carry large metal bowls. I called Mom and Dad and then waited for the bus. And waited. And waited. I was getting seriously worried. I was told to be waiting for someone to get me at the tourist agency at 7:50. Now it was 8:20. The bus was due to depart in ten minutes and there were no signs of the tourist agency opening up. Now it was 8:40 and I was in full-on freak-out mode. See, my tourist visa was due to run out the next day. I didn’t actually have to be of the country until Tuesday but I didn’t have time to waste, waiting around for the next bus to Cambodia. Just as I was about to give up and go find a hotel, a young man ambled up to me and asked if I was going to Cambodia. He guided me through some back alleyways to the bus, waiting on a parkway a few streets over. I climbed onto the mostly empty bus and relief washed over me.
I was feeling pretty familiar with Bangkok at this time so I was a little sad to see it go. The movie the bus played was “The Kingdom” (they must all get the same movies) which I half watched (since I’d missed a lot the night before) and half dozed after gorging myself on oreos and various other snacks.
Just before lunch, it started to absolutely pour. We were going to stop just before the Cambodian border, so one of the bus workers stood up to announce how the visa situation was going to work. At lunch, they’d process our visas then we’d head to the border where we were advised to change our money. The guy explained that Cambodia doesn’t have many banks or atms so it’s best to get out Thai money, cross the border and exchange it. I looked in my Lonely Planet, and sure enough, it collaborated that atms were scarce and I didn’t know how big Siem Reap was. I had about 40 dollars in Baht on me still so I thought for a week in Cambodia three hundred dollars ought to do it. After arriving in a torrential downpour, dodging children trying to sell umbrellas or just walk you to the border under an umbrella, I got money out at an atm and was guided across the border and through customs. While filling out paperwork, I didn’t have a pen. I asked one of the military men sitting at a desk if he had a pen. He shook his head with a cursory glance at me and went back to his paper. Ah, work ethics. I can’t tell you how many shops or whatnot I went into in Thailand where workers were dead asleep on the floor with a pillow. I crossed into Cambodia without further hassle and was instantly stricken by the change in scenery. I had gotten way too complacent in Thailand. Mud six inches deep sucked at my feet. Ox carts, chickens, cattle roamed the streets. We were herded into a money changing shop and told to hurry as the bus was departing shortly. Now, I’ve only ever used atms on my trip but the money exchange places I’ve seen all have chalkboards or even LED boards that indicate what the daily rates are. In this shop, there was nothing but a guy behind a plexiglass booth. This is NOT good. I don’t have time to text someone how much the Cambodian real goes for. They had told us that they also tend to do more business with the dollar. The guy on the bus had said that you get more for your money if you use Real vs. dollars, saying (twice) that if a bottle of water might 1 dollar or 2 real (at 3 real per dollar). I had looked in the guidebook which said that it was 4 real per dollar but considering the book was 2 years old and the dollar stinks, and every other currency I had encountered had plummeted, that sounded right. So now I have to exchange my baht for real, all while trying to do math in my head (math and I are not friends) on all the different exchange rates going on. I’m digging in my bag for my calculator while the bus driver is prodding us to get a move on, the bus is honking, I’m holding things up…
THIS IS ALL A SCAM.
When all is said and done, I do the calculation in my head and think I’ve just lost 20 bucks. That sucks.
We stop at a rest stop two hours later and when a menu is handed to me, I look at the prices. They’re given in both Real and dollar. And while they’re not totally matching up, they do clearly indicate that I have been ripped off. By about sixty bucks. That REALLY sucks.
Back on the bus for what is the WORST road in the world and I am steaming mad. The bus rocks wildly down a muddy, dirt road for several hours. It’s awful. Take the bumpiest road you’ve ever been on and add rain and zero shocks. I’m commiserating with another couple who have also figured out they were just literally and figuratively taken for a ride. By the way, I read in the guide book that an unnamed airline is paying the government of Cambodia an undisclosed amount of money to keep the road we were on (the main artery from Thailand into Cambodia) unpaved so as to drum up airline passengers. Jerks.
We arrived in Siem Reap late at night, just as the guide book said we would. It is a bus company scam to take you directly to a hotel they are in league with in the hopes that you’ll be too tired to go find your own hotel. I never stay in these hotels on principle. A British couple and I share a tuk-tuk to another hotel nearby. They only have one room for me and it appears to be a part of the staff’s quarters. No thank you. But it’s only 24 Real, they say. No thanks, I say, I was looking for something under 8 dollars. Yes, the woman says, this is 6 dollars. “Don’t you mean 18 Real then?” “No, 4 real to one dollar.”
Oh. My. God.
I grab my calculator and burst into tears. I just got taken for about 120 dollars by that wretched money changer.
You know, I don’t mind so much the little pin pricks here and there of people in these countries ripping me off. The whiny rickshaw driver who wants an extra dollar, etc. But when ONE guy (well, actually several, as the bus company from Bangkok was clearly in cahoots) gets probably more than a week or more salary off me? Disgusting. I was so angry with myself.
I wandered down the street and stopped at a cafe where some nice Irish girls pointed out their hotel to me. I was exhausted and miserable. I was shown to a nice big clean room with hot water and cable television. I wrote Mom and Dad about my failure as a traveler. All this time I thought I was beating the system. That I was a savvy adventurer that no one could mess with. And now I just lost the equivalent of 4 days of travel money. Mom and Dad assured me that it was “a drop in the bucket” -- and looking back, I know it was. I just tried to imagine it as a parking ticket… or an expensive night out. But when you spend about 6 dollars a day on a hotel, 10 on food and 15 or so on entertainment, transportation, souvenirs, etc… 120 dollars was unfeasible.
I went to bed early.[ed. note: I recently talked to my friend Patrick in Phnom Penh and I told him about the ripoff. He said that recently a British girl was riding on the back of a moped in P.P. and a mugger on another moped grabbed her purse as she went by. She was pulled off the moped and then run over by another vehicle and killed. So if losing 120 bucks in the course of a 4 month trip through mostly third world countries is the worst thing that happened to me? I consider myself a lucky person.]
Tuesday
Next morning, I slept in for a bit (or at least tried to as there were jackhammers outside my window. Nice.) and then went down for breakfast, to drop off laundry and to arrange my Angkor Wat tour. I was introduced to a very nice motorbike guide who offered to take me around for about 10-20 dollars a day. After breakfast, we headed out to purchase my 3 day pass and hit some far away lesser temples. Man, if only my parents could see me on the back of a motorbike, zipping through the countryside.


Clouds were threatening and my guide, Sam, seemed worried. We arrived at the first temple, which was fairly impressive. I was greeted by a small family who were there visiting their son, a novice monk living in the monastery nearby. Then Sam and I tore across to another temple which I poked around until the skies opened up. We hung out under the roof of a souvenir shop while the rain fell and I found out that Sam had just gotten married a week earlier. They had met because she worked one of the cafes near Angkor Wat and was also a tour guide. The rain petered out and we went to the third temple and then zipped down a back lane, mud spraying my legs. I really was enjoying Cambodia (once over the initial hate for being ripped off). After Thailand, I finally felt like I was a traveler again, instead of a tourist.


We stopped by his sister’s house for some water and he dropped me off at my hotel around 5. He was due to pick me up pretty early the next morning for the big temples like Angkor Wat.
I headed out on the town to do some interneting and find food. I ended up at a pizza place that was pretty delicious and then moved on to “Pub Street” for a drink at Temple Bar. I was sitting and watching soccer and thinking about what in the world I was going to do for work when I returned and wondering if I should I go back to MTV. Just then, “Video Killed the Radio Star” began to play, which was MTV’s first video that ever aired. Strange. A moment later, a young man came over to talk to me. Before he introduced himself, I remember quite vividly thinking for some reason that he looked like a Brian or a Ryan. Turns out he was a Ryan. We talked for a bit until I suddenly realized he was pretty irritating, a privileged college kid from Connecticut. I was about to head out when he invited me next door to Angkor What?, a pretty happening bar by the looks of it. Unfortunately, it was filled with all the wrong types of backpackers (or Fratpackers, as I like to call them) and I had glass of beer and snuck out. Ryan had basically abandoned me for another girl anyway, but who could blame him, I clearly had no interest.
Wednesday
Up early for breakfast and Sam was already waiting. We were on the road shortly, and I was getting the hang of this motorbike business. First stop was Angkor Wat, stunning.



Also the site of many wedding photos, it appeared. Bridal parties were everywhere.


Next was Angkor Thom, which I think was my favorite. It has incredible carved stone faces all over it and was featured in Tomb Raider.

I really just cannot begin to impress upon you the enormity of these structures… and how decrepit they’re becoming. They are just amazing.



There were several other temples around Angkor Thom that I wandered through while Sam napped/waited for me in his wife’s café. They all seem to have hammocks set up in the back just for this purpose. I joined him at last and ate lunch before we moved on to some further afield temples.


You can pretty much clamber all over the temples. Some are temples you walk through and some you climb up and over. One of the temples you climb had some seriously steep steps.


I made it up and then was mighty concerned about how I was going to get back down. I noticed I wasn’t the only one, when a young western man got help from several monks (!!!) to get down. They even carried his bag for him.


I was careful – moving slowly and meticulously. I didn’t much feel like being air-lifted out of there with a broken neck.
After quite a long day, Sam returned me to the hotel and I went to find a new book and relax a bit. I had the famous Cambodian dish of amok – a sort of coconut curry. Tastebuds gone to glory. Called it a night after that and headed back to the hotel. “Witness” was playing on cable so I got a little homesick.
Thursday
Final day of Wat touring. Sam picked me up – today were were going waaaaay out in the country. I enjoyed picking my way around the temples while listening to sad and/or spooky music on my iPod. And I’m not ashamed to admit I totally listened to Indiana Jones music again.
Back at the hotel, I found that they were showing “The Killing Fields.” Odd. Usually they just showed Cambodian karaoke that the staff sat around and sang along to. I went to find dinner -- it was just pouring so I didn’t stay out. My bus to Phnom Penh was in the morning.
Friday
I was picked up around 10 for the bus ride to PP. Mostly uneventful bus ride, although was subjected to more Cambodian karaoke and an incredibly smelly seatmate. I really can’t tell you what she smelled like, just trust me it was BAD. She also had the loudest ringtone I’ve heard since India and she liked to let it ring for about 10 seconds before answering it. We stopped for lunch at a roadside market. I decided on chips and a soda as the plexiglass containers full of FRIED INSECTS didn't appeal to me.

We rolled into Phnom Penh around 8 p.m. during a massive thunderstorm. I had arranged to stay at a sister hotel to the one in Siem Reap, so I had a tuk-tuk waiting for me. I had dinner after checking in and ended up going to sleep pretty early.
Saturday
Next morning, I had to take care of my Vietnam passport and decided to book a boat tour around the Mekong Delta (basically this would take care of my transportation into Vietnam, a hotel for two nights, plus some sightseeing for about 40 bucks). Unfortunately, this meant I had to stick around PP until Tuesday and I was anxious to move on to Vietnam. Today, I decided to go check out the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum also known as S21 Prison, formerly a high school. It’s obviously a grim tourist stop but I think necessary to see. There are three rooms full of mugshot-style photographs of the victims – very overwhelming. However, while I was moving through the rows of photos, there was a family consisting of an older woman, her daughter (?) and her daughter’s child having a grand old time, pointing and giggling over the photos despite the very clear NO TALKING signs posted absolutely everywhere. There was also a camera crew conducting interviews of visitors and they called over the family to talk to them and the giggling became even worse. Incredibly distracting and rude, I thought, and I’m not even Cambodian. I moved to get ahead of them but they kept appearing in the rooms I was in, giggling at the shackles, pointing and sniggering at unattractive mugshots. I left.
I decided to wander through PP after that gruesome afternoon. Ended up taking shelter during a sudden downpour in a multi-level mall. Bought a pair of Raybans and camo-pants as my wardrobe is in dire need of updating (when you have about 3 items of clothing and are wearing them to death for 2 months, it’s time for a change) and I figured the camo-pants wouldn’t look too dirty after a week of wearing them. Plus, I was feeling a little Lara Croft-ish (minus the thigh-strapped guns, of course) after visiting Angkor Wat.
I had some ice-cream and tramped over to the riverfront where various pubs and restaurants were located to find food.
First, I stopped at a rather chic bar purporting to have a nice wine happy hour. It felt very New York-ish. I was pretty grubby so I popped into the bathroom to change into my new clothes and put some lipstick on, as well as try to run a comb through my hair. I drank my wine by myself and then went up the street to a pub for dinner. I ordered a Philly Cheesesteak (!) which was surprisingly good (and not dog, people!) and fairly authentic while enjoying the texts I was receiving from Orly and David from Owen’s graduation. While I was sitting on a bar stool watching the FA Cup in Cambodia, my baby brother was walking across the stage and receiving his college diploma. Afterwards, a young man stopped me on the street to invite me to a club but I decided to head back to the hotel instead. As I was getting ready for bed, I put on the television to discover that they were airing the Yankees-Mets game! I stayed up quite late to watch it, feeling a bit homesick every time a camera from the blimp (?) overhead would pan over Manhattan on a gorgeous, clear spring day.
Next morning, I got up late, gave myself a much needed pedicure and read a book I’d gotten from the hotel’s book exchange. After lunch, I hired a motorbike to take me to the Killing Field -- Choeung Ek. There is still what appears to be bone and clothing protuding from the earth in some places. Signs indicate where they placed a loudspeaker in a tree to play music in order to drown out the screaming, crying and other nuisances so the soldiers could get on with beating babies against trees, that sort of thing. And yes, there was a sign indicating a particular tree used for that activity. It’s just hard to wrap my brain around the level of atrocity going on – only 30 years ago.
On the way back to the city, my driver, as usual, wanted to know if I was married and why I was traveling alone and then the inevitable “how old are you?” I told him to guess and he guessed about 10 years younger and when I told him my actual age, he was shocked. “Oh, you very old. I think you not get married. Too old.” Excellent. Cheers, mate.
Back at the hotel, lunch, a little reading and then I decided to go back to that nice wine bar after another afternoon of exploring Phnom Penh. I was trying to find a Camera store but was having zero luck but walking around was nice. PP is pretty darn big and the sheer amount of motorbikes is amazing. This is where I really started honing the technique of street-crossing. You wait for an opening nearest you and then you just walk. You never run. You stop when you have to. Some argue to make eye contact but I always look past the driver so there’s no confusion… they have to go around me. You get the hang of it but it is definitely unnerving.
Once at the wine bar, the manager I’d noticed the day before noticed me. “You’re back,” he said, in a clear American accent. I asked him where he was from. He said he was Cambodian but grew up in San Francisco and had moved back to PP a few years ago. We got to chatting and after I mentioned I had worked at MTV before leaving, Patrick told me that he had some American friends who owned a wine bar down the street and one of them had worked at MTV before leaving! Patrick invited me to join him and his friends the next day for dinner and I could meet the MTVer.
Some friends of his came by and we ended up moving down the street to an Italian joint – the food was delicious. I had pasta carbonara and for a couple of hours, felt like I could be back in New York in a tiny restaurant in the West Village. Eventually went back to the hotel (where they were airing “The Killing Fields” – again) and went to bed.
Next morning, I picked up my passport with my new Vietnam visa and after a leisurely breakfast, decided to go see the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda. Unfortunately, it was a national holiday and everything was closed. Not good. I ended up just walking around PP for awhile before going back to the hotel and reading on my balcony. Before I knew it, I was late for meeting Patrick and company. I threw on my birthday sundress and raced across town.
Patrick introduced me to his friends and, as it turns out, Chad not only worked on the same floor as me but he is good friends and neighbors with one of my managers. He gave me advice on what NOT to do when I was in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) which was to NEVER take a bicycle rickshaw. “Please promise me,” he said. I asked why. Because, he explained, they are notorious for cheating you. You try to set a price or the driver says, “Whatever you want to pay me” and when it comes time to pay up, they extort you for obscene amounts of money – like 25 bucks for going five minutes. And they’ll throw a temper tantrum in the middle of the street until you pay them. (Later, I looked it up in my LP Vietnam book, and indeed it did mention bicycle rickshaw drivers as being quite the scam artists). I promised I would not take one. Taxis have meters and are easier to negotiate. We moved from the bar to another restaurant and from there, Patrick invited me on a tour of his hotel. Very modern stylings and an amazing rooftop bar with jacuzzi. Not too shabby. We chatted for a long time. He gave me a lift back to my hotel in his Jeep (why do all Jeep Cherokees smell the same? – and not in a bad way). That’s one of the rewarding and frustrating parts of travel – meeting new, amazing people… and having to leave them.

Koh Samui

My left eye is really bothering me at this point, despite removing my contacts.



Heavy clouds hung in the sky as we docked on Koh Samui. Christian, the Swiss girls, and I trooped off and, of course, were instantly hit up by touts who wanted an outrageous 8 bucks per person to take us around to the other side of the island. Per person! And these were songthaew -they could easily fit all of us inside. That's 56 bucks for a 20 minute trip. We tried to bargain with him (the guide book says it shouldn't cost nearly that much) and he pulled the typical Thai taxi driver tantrum, threw up his hands and walked away. Again, he'd rather not make any money then bargain. The guide book recommended just walking to the main road and hailing a passing taxi -- not one that's waiting for you. We watched as other tourists grimaced and shelled out the dough. The road was a bit far from the ferry, but we strapped on our gear and headed out.

As we stood on the corner, our taxi driver reappeared. He'd do it for 7 bucks a person now. We countered with 4. He drove away -- I guess to wait for the next ferry (which was hours away).

Another a moped pulled up, an older German guy with his Thai wife on the back. Now, I realize that many different nationalities actually do fall in love, but at this point every time I saw a white guy with a Thai woman, I only thought, "Ugh… creepy sex tourist." This guy told the Swiss girls and Christian (who were all now leaving me out by talking in German, which is understandable) that he'd take us to the beach we wanted for 20 bucks. He bids us to come with him down the road as he went to get his truck. We start after him but a pack of dogs come out to greet us and the Swiss girls start screaming. I tell them to look at the dogs' tails, which were all wagging friendly-like -- the dogs were just saying hi, not attacking. But we didn't continue down the road, deciding to stay near the main road.

Our taxi driver reappears again and this time he's thought things over and could possibly take us for 6 bucks each. We told him we'd already found a ride for 20 bucks but if he wanted to beat that, that's fine. He grouches and gets back in his truck but doesn't leave.

A few minutes later, the German guy reappears with his truck and waves us over. He doesn't want the taxi driver to see him taking us because it's illegal to drive a non-licensed taxi. Oh dear. The taxi driver is eyeing us and comes over and starts yapping. The German guy's wife says something and he leaves but he is definitely not happy. The woman tells us that she told him we were friends and they were giving us a ride.

Whoops.

We pile into the back of the truck and off we go. It turns out to be quite a drive and a cramped one at that. We try to find the hotel the Swiss girls had looked up but have no luck and end up in a very nice cottage-type hotel room, steps from the beach. After settling, we all troop out to find food. Koh Samui turns out to be quite expensive (although Christian and I shared a room again at about 6 bucks each). We went to restaurant after restaurant where all the main courses were 7 dollars or more. Of course it seems ridiculous now to be put off by that, but when you're used to eating wonderful meals for minimum money, it's a lot. We ended up at a fairly bland spot but I had the crab noodle salad (basically glass noodles with a little bit of greenery and seafood) which was pretty good. Except when I chomped down on a ridiculously hot pepper and tears started streaming down my face. Gotta look out for those, they bite.

My eye looked dreadful that night and hurt pretty badly. I got little sleep. Christian had told me when we were in Krabi that once he was on vacation with his girlfriend in Australia and she came down with an eye infection. It hurt her more and more so she decided to go to a hospital except they had no car and the closest hospital was 75 miles away. They had to hire a taxi and pay an arm and a leg to save her eye because, as it turns out, she had some sort of flesh-eating bacteria which had already eaten out a chunk of her eye! So of course this story is in my head and then Christian brings it up again.

The next morning, the eye is even worse. And it won't stop crying. Christian's already up and out and about. I decide to go to Subway for lunch and also stop at a pharmacy. My weeping eye is so painful, I don't know what to do. Nothing at the pharmacy is suitable. I shuffled blindly back to the beach, found Christian surrounded by all the gorgeous, nubile Swiss girls and tell him I'm giong to the hospital. I went back to the room where I start crying in earnest. Christian comes in and asks if I want him to go with me. He clearly doesn't want to and I'm not about to ask a him to give up beach time with 6 lovely ladies for me, the ancient one. Plus… OF COURSE I WANT HIM TO COME. I don't want to go to another Thai hospital by myself -- particularly since this one was guaranteed to be not as nice as Bumrungrad. But I tell him no, it's okay, go have fun on the beach as I wash my eye out again. He wavers, "Are you sure?" NO I'M NOT SURE! "Yeah. I'll be fine." "I think maybe I should come with you," he says -- but not sounding too sure of it. WHY IS THIS EVEN UP FOR DEBATE? "No, it's fine," I say, crying again. He goes back to the beach. I go to find a taxi. I can't believe he let me go alone.

Taxi charges me six bucks to go about 4 minutes. The hospital is a smallish clinic. There are two people waiting. I sign in and am seen immediately. A nice doctor and a couple of nurses make me lie down on a gurney where the doctor swabs my eye (fun!) and then the nurses basically hold me down and pry my goopy, inflamed eye open and rinse it with saline for 5 minutes. It wasn't exactly painful, but incredibly uncomfortable -- seeing liquid pouring in my eye for so long. I tried to pretend I was being tortured and needed to stay strong and valiant. But that sucked.

Then the doctor bound my eye up with a cotton wadding and tape and sent me away to another window to pick up my "painkillers" and antibiotic eye drops. Painkillers! Yay! The nurse hands me a foil packet of painkillers I've never heard of before: Paracetamol. Oooh! The doctor had anaesthetized my eye while swabbing so it was feeling pretty good at the moment but I was looking forward to dozing a bit when I got back to the hotel and could take one of the pills. I paid the bill - 30 bucks for doctor and antibiotics and pain pills.
With my sense of balance and depth perception impaired, I weaved out into the parking lot to wave down a cab on the street. One stopped immediately. I told him the hotel and asked how much. He said 12 dollars! "It's half a mile away and I just came out of the hospital!!! What would Buddha say!?! It cost 6 to get here. I won't pay more than that." He smiled sheepishly and off we went.
Back at the hotel, I walked lopsidedly down the the beach. Christian and his harem were playing card games and they all gasped dramatically when I approached. I told Christian I was going to sleep for a bit since I was taking painkillers and they'd probably knock me out. I took the pills with some water and Christian walked me back to the hotel room, holding my arm. I couldn't really make out steps very well with only one eye. I lay down and Christian told me he was going out for a bit, and did I need anything. I told him I wanted a real eye patch, if he could find one. I figured if I was going to wear this stupid cotton one, I might as well go whole hog and have a scary black one. Really take this new pirate look all the way. Or at least get a parrot.
I try to sleep… waiting for the wooziness to come on. Been awhile since my neck surgery but I remembered the relaxing "duuuuhhhh" sensation. It wasn't coming. I fell asleep eventually and when Christian returned, they still weren't working. Disappointed, I got up. My eye still hurt. No luck with the eye patch, Christian said. Hmmm. I found a black pen and went into the bathroom.



That'll do.

We met the girls for dinner -- another unremarkable Thai place. At one point one of the girls tried to convince Christian that another girl had been Miss Switzerland the year before (Miss Swiss! Swiss Miss! Hahaha). Christian nodded and congratulated her. What are you supposed to say? "No you weren't!" and if she was, she'll be insulted and if she wasn't…she'll be insulted.

We decide to take a walk and find an internet place after dinner. I’ve popped some more painkillers and they’re still not working. I got online and looked up paracetamol. It’s Tylenol. Dang.

Christian and I decide that Koh Samui is boring and overpriced and decide to head for Koh Phangan the next day. The girls are going to stay another night.