GOODBYE VIETNAAAAAAAAM

I couldn't resist.

Well... the beard's gone, so the trip must be over.

(Wow I don't like being clean-shaven!)

Vietnam was amazing, but too too fast.

I spent my day and a half in Saigon mostly wandering in what amounted to concentric circles of increasing size. As I've discovered is a bit of a norm for me, it's hard to accurately capture my experience of a new place in words, or even pictures. What I really come away with is a general impression, punctuated by a few specific moments, of a place and its people.

The highlight of Saigon, in terms of sights, was the War Remnants Museum (aka the American War Museum). This was an impressively well put together collection of artifacts, photographs, stories and facts about the American/Vietnamese War. Noooooot a good place to go if one wants to feel good about being American. I pretty much felt like walking around the entire time apologizing to everyone around me.

The museum takes about as "fair and balanced" an approach to the war as Fox News does to politics (in about half the photo-captions, Americans are "invaders" and Viet Cong "patriots"), but regardless the exhibits are compelling. Particularly noteworthy were a gallery of photographs of and by war-photographers (from a number of countries) who were killed in action and the display on the effects of Agent Orange. The latter was certainly the most stomach-turning: it included photographs and information of soldiers and civilians who'd been seriously injured by direct exposure to Agent Orange, as well as children born as late as 2003 with serious birth-defects (severely physically and mentally disabled) due to parents' or grandparents' exposure.
Despite its frequent one-sidedness (hooray for long-running one-party political systems!), this museum is a must-see for anyone traveling through Saigon.

At the War Remnants Museum: the last guillotine ever used, by the government of South Vietnam in the 1960's to behead a North Vietnamese operative. Yeesh (but hey at least America wasn't responsible for THIS one!)

An American tank. Sorry. Sorry! SORRY!
Of course I had to wear my Commie army-hat this day...

After the experience of feeling like my national pride had been spin-kicked, I exited and found myself engulfed in a throng of middle-school aged kids getting out for the day. The contrast between the sobriety of the museum and the lively chatter of school children just across the street was refreshing.
I wandered up to a little food-stand (what can I say, pictures of the effects of chemical warfare really spur my appetite!) and was immediately confronted by a young girl eager to practice her English. I asked her what it was she was (and I would soon be) eating... she didn't know the name, so I decided to call it a Vietnamese quesadilla (except in rice-paper, sans cheese, plus quail-eggs, chilli-sauce, and a bunch of other unrecognizable edibles). We talked for a bit (with her gaggle of friends giggling around us), and she told me about her family's plan to move to New Jersey in a couple weeks. It was fascinating for me to talk to this girl (who spoke remarkable English) about her impression of America and Americans. She was nervous but excited about the move, and had the impression that no one in America had ever even heard of Vietnam. She was stunned to hear how culturally important Vietnam and the Vietnam War are in America. I did my best to reassure her that she'd find plenty of friends and friendly Americans... I neglected to mention that in my opinion American middle schools are the most cruel institutions on the face of the planet. She'll be fiiiiiiiine.

Feeling a bit better about myself as an American (and a human being in general) after this pleasant interaction, I wandered off.

I spent my last day in Southeast Asia getting a massage at the Institute of Traditional Vietnamese Medicine by a blind masseus (in which I learned what it feels like to be a percussion instrument), eating Pho, having a shave (I think I was probably the most heavily-bearded individual the barber had ever shaved), doing some shopping and wandering more.

Then I hopped on the back of a moto (with the driver holding my morbidly obese backpack wedged between his body and the handlebars) and made my way to the airport. Twenty hours later (but only 1.5 hours after I left Vietnam), I arrived in the FREEZING cold Bay Area and was greeted by my loving roommates. To be around friends again! Yay!

Can't say I'll miss the traffic...

I will miss the markets, though. Mmm... frog.

I'm fascinated by what moto-taxi drivers can do on their motos.

Seriously?

So 7.5 weeks of traveling, 5.5 by myself. Yet I've found myself, and a number of other folks, asking, "why not longer? You've got no obligations to be home for!".
Well, and why not? Being me, I just about thought this question to death. And I realized (with the help of my lovely counseling parents), that, frankly, it was enough.

Though I've gotten just about non-stop crap from my roommates for saying it, I was exhausted by the end of the trip. Traveling alone was a wonderful experience, and I would recommend it to absolutely anyone who's willing... but it's exhausting. I didn't anticipate how taxing the routine tasks of travel would become when done alone. Planning each day, planning ahead, keeping mindful of my luggage and belongings... even deciding on what to eat at a given meal-time. When with another person, at least every once in a while a person can simply say "you decide/you deal with it" and turn off one's brain for a few minutes. Traveling alone, I never had the luxury of turning off my head and truly relaxing. I met a number of other lone travelers, and discovered two ways they were able to mitigate this exhaustion. First, they would plan a few days every couple weeks in which they would remain stationary and have absolutely nothing to do. I certainly could have done this... but I was too excited to see what was next and continue the adventure! Second, they would have friends periodically come to meet up with them and share part of their travels. Sure enough, in the last couple weeks I found myself daydreaming about talking a friend/brother into flying out and meeting up with me for a few weeks of more Vietnam/Indonesia/Malaysia/China/Australia/East Timor/wherever!

I had a hard time, frankly, letting myself off the hook for not extending my trip. Especially after having met so many people who were traveling for so much longer, and feeling that I'd short-changed my experience of Vietnam, I found myself feeling almost obligated to keep on trucking. But when I was discussing the decision with him, Mitch put it best: "Neither choice is wrong, and neither choice is life-changing."
So I sat back with a cup of over-sweetened Vietnamese coffee and a pint of over under-flavored Vietnamese beer and let myself feel how I was feeling.

And I knew it was time to go home.

Whirlwind Vietnam

First of all, I want it noted how hard I just worked to resist the urge to title this post "Good Morning, Vietnam". Or even "Good Morning, Saigon". Or "Good Morning" anything, for that matter.

Enough self-congratulation.

Since my last post, I have spent a few days in frenetic Hanoi, taken a 2-day trip to Halong Bay (about a 3 hour drive north of Hanoi), taken an overnight train to Hoi An in central Vietnam, and
flown to Saigon (where I arrived last night).


Halong Bay was interesting. It truly deserves its fame and UNESCO World Heritage Site status - it's one of the most beautiful and otherworldly places I've seen. It was almost work to be there, because I found I had to keep reminding myself that yes, this actually does exist and no, I'm not just looking at reeeeeeeeeeally big postcards in every direction. The waters are crystal blue and the gray limestone cliffs and islands come jut skyward as if the sea floor was reaching fingers out of the water.

Unfortunately (and I had been warned of this), Halong Bay has genuinely suffered from its own beauty. The place feels like an assembly line. The only way one can get out into the bay is by booking a tour through an agency in Hanoi, and once arriving at the bay it feels like a tour-assembly-line. It was all about "hurry up and wait" - you're hustled onto a (actually surprisingly nice) junk, and ferried like schoolchildren to See The Giant Limestone Cave!, Have an Authentic Vietnamese Seafood Lunch!, Kayak for One Hour Around the Islands!, See Thumb Island!, Go For a Swim!. It's honestly obnoxious - there's no room for creativity and minimal exploration.

To be fair, however, I'll honestly say that the hour spent in a kayak made the trip worthwhile. We were hurried off the boat at Place To Go Kayaking, only to be told that the 8 specific kayaks our company rents were actually being used, so we'd have to sit and wait for a half hour. We were all a little miffed, but it wound up working out in our benefit: we got to be in the kayaks - at sea-level, alone - for sunset. It was phenomenal. My kayak-mate, Greg, and I paddled away from the boats and posted ourselves against one of the islands in a spot where we could watch the sun fall behind dozens of islands in the distance. It was again a moment when I found myself needing to be reminded that this was actually real and those islands are not just cardboard cut-outs in middle-distance. Wow.
Naturally I didn't bring my camera with me on the kayak, but Greg has promised to send along some of his photos.

Yup, it really is that pretty.

They call this "Thumb Island". I really couldn't figure out why, but I thought it was cool and worthy of a thumbs-up.

That's me, and that's Halong Bay.

Did I mention that it really is that pretty?

After Halong Bay, I spent another full day in Hanoi, which I spent visiting Ho Chi Minh's Masoleum and the mostly wandering around (my favorite pastime in new cities). Ho Chi Minh's Masoleum was.... remarkable. The official reverence for this man is like nothing else I've experienced. Despite his will requiring his remains to be cremated, after Ho Chi Minh's death, his body was embalmed and is forever on display in his masoleum in the middle of Hanoi. The line to get into the massive structure was daunting, and I'm pretty sure there was more security than at the airport. No cameras allowed. Or shorts. Or phones. Or water. Or flash-lights.
After shuffling forward in line for a solid 45 minutes, I had the singular honor of continuing to shuffle past three sides of an open glass case containing THE MAN.
I know how important he is in Vietnam, but wow it was hard not to laugh at the over-the-top pomp of it all. I was immensely relieved to hear a few stiffled sniggers from a Vietnamese couple next to me.

After making my way through the actual masoleum, I had the pleasure of visiting such noteworthy sites as Ho Chi Minhs office - preserved as he left it! Complete with Ho Chi Minh's Desk! Ho Chi Minh's Alarm Clock! Small Crumbs from Ho Chi Minh's Cookie! (ok, made that last one up).

Ho Chi Minh makes me feel like this!

After the day of visiting modern mummies and further exploring Hanoi's anachronistic streets:


I boarded a night-train to Da Nang at 11:00pm. Following advice, I had bought a ticket for the nicest car available: the "soft sleeper". This consists of a room about the size of 2 broom closets with 2 stacks of 2 bunk beds, and a desk. In my exhaustion I was a bit underwhelmed... until I slept like a drugged baby (the rocking of a train is officially the BEST sleep-aid) and saw the next morning what the alternatives were: the "hard sleeper"'s 2 stacks of 3 beds (that's 6 people in a double-wide broom closet) and the "hard seat"'s open car jam-packed with as many bus-like seats as possible.
The view from the train as we approached central Vietnam in the morning was phenomenal - it began with rice paddies tended by cone-hat-wearing, indigo-clothed, water-buffalo-leading locals (again: "this is not a postcard, Daniel") and ended with pristine and vacant white-sand beaches against deep blue sea.


Hoi An, another UNESCO World Heritage Site, is also postcard-iconic. It manages to perfect a symbiosis of Francophilia and Vietnamism (I love making up words): mildly decayed French colonial architecture neighbors several-century old Chinese-style housing, which both border a river paced by old Vietnamese men in colorful row-boats. Wow. Another place where I found the best and most enjoyable way to spend time was simply walking, walking, walking.


And now here I am, in Saigon! In my near future is an umpteenth cup of delicious-in-a-different-sorta-way Vietnamese coffee and a day and a half of wandering a new city. Woo!

In Hanoi. I just thought this was cute. And no, that beer does not belong to the little girl.

Can somebody please, PLEASE, tell me what has happened to these dogs? They were attached at the rear. I'm not joking. It was the wierdest thing I've ever seen.

I've determined that every country I've departed left during this trip (save the States... and the layover in Korea) has been just as sad to say goodbye as I've been. As is the norm, I've staved off that sadness by aquiring little tokens to remember the nation by - souvenirs of various genres. Well, it seems that each country has just been convinced that whatever souvenirs I'd acquired just weren't quite enough. Sooooo Thailand, Cambodia and Laos have EACH seen fit to leave with a nice little food-born friend to take in my stomach with me as I depart.

UGH!

I left Laos yesterday afternoon for Hanoi, Vietnam, and Laos was so generous as to ensure I make such dignified moves as the immediately post-takeoff airplane-bathroom dash (similar to Matt's curry-induced, pre-takeoff dash of weeks earlier). I was a bit laid-up for my last half-day in Luang Prabang - which is too bad since it prevented me from visiting the supposedly-wonderful Kuang Xi waterfall - but I'm working through it now and not letting it prevent me from exploring Hanoi!

Luang Prabang was nice, but strange. After a few weeks of being in pretty low-infrastructure places, this UNESCO World Heritage Site's tourist industry was startling. I even saw old white people! Wierd!
Anyway, the heavily French-influenced town was fun to explore, and my overnight jungle-trek with a friendly Aussie couple was exhausting but satisfying.

Considering how taken aback by Luang Prabang's built-up-ness.... imagine me flying into Hanoi yesterday! This city is absurd. I'm staying in the Old Quarter - a delightful mess of winding, intertwining, stopping-and-starting, name-changing alleyways and streets. The architecture is a smattering of different styles - ranging from contemporary to French Colonial to ancient Chinese - and beautiful in its eclectic shabby-chic-ness.
And the traffic. Wow. It puts Bangkok to shame. The streets are a constant river of scooters coming and going in every direction, with the occasional car or van barreling through horn-blaring. I think I'll stick to my feet here!
And food is everywhere! Street vendors in stalls or wandering with baskets slung across shoulder-polls manage to spread their epicurial perfumes widely enough to overwhelm the stench of exhaust. I'm cursing this damn stomach-bug (mild though it is now) for preventing me from eating every little thing that piques my curiosity.

Ok, trying to keep this short[er than normal]. Tomorrow I'll be leaving early for an overnight trip to Halong Bay (sleeping on some junk... heheh), then the evening after I return I take an overnight train to Da Nang in central Vietnam. After a couple days in Da Nang and Hoi An, I fly to Saigon (aka Ho Chi Minh City) for a grand total of about 40 hours... and then home!

Wow, it's really been this long?


Ah! On another note, I finally got a new camera while in Laung Prabang! A smattering of photos of the past little while:

The (appropriate) last photograph shot by my old camera before it became a knee-pad.
Outside of Ban Lung, Ratinakiri Province, northeast Cambodia.

The "sunset side" of Don Det island in Southern Laos. My $2.25/night room was one of the bungalows a little down the way.

When I dropped my clothes off with some nice lady to get them laundered on Don Det... I didn't expect to later see them displayed on a clothesline in the middle of a dry rice paddy.

Sun behind clouds behind Wat Xieng Thong, Luang Prabang, Laos.

Cocks actually fight in the wild!

The mountains outside of Luang Prabang. Awesome trekking hat ($1.50), pants ($6) and stick (free!): check, check, check. Also managed to make my dumb shoulder-bag into a backpack... sorta.

By far the coolest sports photo I will ever take. These guys are amazing at wicker-foot-volleyball (I'm certain that's the sport's official name). In the village where we spent the night on our trek out of Luang Prabang.

On our way back to town after the trek, we got called off the street to come join this baby's-one-month-old! party. We (the Aussies, our guide and I) were damn near force-fed Lao beer and rice-whisky (shudder...) and dragged to the dance floor. Now I realize I may look like I'm dancing reeeeeeally awkwardly, but look at everyone else! I'm spot on!

A water-puppet show outside of the Literature Temple in Hanoi. I actually just now got out of a full hour-long performance of this traditional Northern Vietnamese entertainment.

Miss you all!