The Itinerary

It went like this...landed in Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City, (sometimes written as HCMC) after a 21 hour flight on 12/15. Made all the internal travel arrangements for the rest of the trip the next day, then fled from Saigon (read: the city) to Nha Trang, a coastal town (read, the beach). A few days later we flew to Danang and quickly escaped that city for the charming town of Hoi An. A few days before Christmas we took a minibus over the mountain pass to the imperial city of Hue. After Christmas in Hue, we flew to Hanoi, where we got off the hotel circuit and stayed with H's Peace Corps friend Susan and her new fiancé Bob. A while later we flew to Vientiane, the capital of Laos. From Vientiane we flew to the enchanting town of Luang Prabang. After several restful days there, it was back to Vientiane. Then we went for a two-day sojourn at a "ecotourist" resort, Lao Pako. Then back to Vientiane for a few more days. Lastly, we went back to Saigon, to complete the circle. After one last weekend, it was home after 30 days of traveling. We flew EVA airlines. Don't worry if you have never heard of them. They are new. EVA is Taiwanese, and so we had a very brief stopover in Taipei. The stewardesses bow to the passengers at the beginning and end of the flight. Charming. Perhaps American, Delta, Continental, etc., could learn a thing or two.

"Lao like cats, Viet like dogs"

(old Lao folk saying) Visiting two countries was a smart thing to do because they are quite different and so provided contrast. Vietnam has 72 million people, Laos, the same size, has 4 million. The Vietnamese are friendly, curious, entrepreneurial and assertive. The Laotians are shy, laid back, not in a hurry to get rich and are concerned about preserving their heritage. Vietnam and Laos are communist but they both adopted a new social and economic policy of "Doi Moi" (means "openness" in Vietnamese). Similar to glasnost. The Vietnamese are eager to join the capitalist world, at least in an economic sense. The Laotians want to do this too, but they are taking their time. Both countries used to require travel permits for internal travel, but no longer! We felt welcome as tourists in both places and never once paid anyone a bribe-apparently the normal practice only two years ago.

Tonal Tongue Twisters

We took 10 hours of Vietnamese lessons before we left. ("Don't say Ba, say Baa!" said our teacher Lien, "Ba means something else!") It wasn't really necessary, because the Vietnamese spoke enough English or French on the tourist trail. In fact, their English was pretty good. But it always helps to speak a little bit of the local language. Getting to and from the hotel, at times, was like running the gauntlet in the larger Vietnamese cities: "Will you buy my postcard please?" "No? I have Graham Green, Quiet American, very good book. You buy?" "Excuse me, I have cyclo!* You need cyclo? Where you go?" But overall, people were very polite. They bowed. We bowed back and said, "Sin loi" (excuse me) before asking anything.

*a cyclo is a bicycle powered rickshaw

Cone Head

The first thing H did when she got off the plane was to buy a Vietnamese conical shaped straw hat. The sun was strong - why not do as the Romans do? The locals were very amused at this oversized foreigner wearing one of their hats. It was like wearing a miniature umbrella - offering a lot of protection against the sun and rain but cutting off some peripheral vision. She bonked her head on a low metal post. W ended up bonking his head too - on market tent poles in Hoi An, and on short bed posts.

The War

We were reminded of the "American War" as it is called in Vietnam, more in America than in Vietnam. A lot of the information and literature on the Internet about "Vietnam" focuses on the war. But in Vietnam, most of the people we dealt with were born in the '70s and had no real recollection of the war. The Vietnamese psyche just wants to move on towards earning money and bettering their lot. They are a forward thinking people and do not seem to feel any resentment towards Americans. We only felt uncomfortable when we met an American Vietnam veteran at an airport and the conversation went something like this: "Yes, we napalmed a leper colony nearby and, by the way, it was beautiful there" (he mumbled). We changed the subject. We said we were going to Saigon." Have you been to Saigon?" he asked. "Yes." "Did you go to the race track there?" he asked. The gap grew wider. Why anyone would want to come all the way to Vietnam to go to a racetrack was beyond us.

The Viet Kieu

Being from California made us very popular, especially with the Viet Kieu, that is, the two million Vietnamese who had emigrated to the U.S. and other places in the 1970s and were now visiting family in Vietnam — tourists like us but strangers in their own land. "You're from San Francisco? Really? We're from San Jose!" Many of the privately owned restaurants, stores and min-hotels we visited were started with money sent by overseas relatives (mostly from the U.S.).

Run For Your Life - Saigon and Hanoi Traffic

Even though it was a scary experience crossing the street, the traffic could have been a lot worse. The majority of the population rides a motor bike or bicycle and there are so many of them, that the traffic moves pretty slowly. Last year traffic lights were installed at major intersections, making actual breaks in the traffic flow. Where there were no breaks, the local method of madness was to step into the traffic, move slowly in between each vehicle and never stop. The drivers don't stop and don't expect you to. Whenever a foreigner freezes in the middle of the street from fear, a pile up quickly ensues. Dread the day when everyone becomes rich and gets a car, then look for the Bangkok syndrome (total gridlock). It will happen.

High and Dry

Nha Trang is a coastal town with an endless public beach - a destination for all who would like rest and relaxation. We rose early in the morning (it was easy with jet lag) and watched the retired set doing exercises on the beach. This was the best time to swim, for the waves were gentle swells and there was no wind. We took an eight-hour boat trip to see the local islands on a colorfully painted wooden boat. We were with 25 other tourists from all over, even some Vietnamese honeymooners. Our first stop, one hour out to sea, was in a cove of one of the many islands to swim and snorkel. The water was nice and warm. The 'eye candy' at these sites was nothing like the Red Sea or the Great Barrier Reef. But there was some attractive fish, coral and plant life to look at. H went in once and then escaped from the intense sun. W went in twice before the boat operators, who decided that we weren't partying enough, brought out their "floating bar" complete with rice wine and various other intoxicants, and turned up their cassette player for atmosphere. They were encouraging us to be as Western and decadent as possible. We were sure that this "party-hearty" atmosphere clashed with the Vietnamese and older tourists - but they were in the minority. Then W went out swimming one more time and swam far away from the boat. H waited until the skipper was pulling up the ladder before saying "hey, there IS another swimmer out there, you know". "Oh no," he said "that person from other boat." She said oh no, that WAS her man out there. Somehow W got the idea that he should swim in, though he said later that he could not hear anyone yelling at him. Weeks later, we read about a tourist accidentally being left overnight on an island by another such boat, rescued by local fishermen after a cold and miserable night. Entertainers the tour operators were, mathematicians they were not. Did we forget to tell you about the one-legged hashish smuggler who came out of nowhere in a tiny rowboat? Oh, never mind...H doesn't want me to go into it.

Karmasation

Having done the beach and the sea at Nha Trang, we searched out the town's few sites. We were looking for a big concrete Buddha on top of the highest hill with a panoramic view. After walking to the center of town, we noticed an alleyway that seemed to lead up there. We took it and ended up at a temple administered by nuns. They were praying when we arrived. As we tiptoed on the roof in front of the temple and took in the views, a yellow robed nun with a shaved head came out and began to sing to the heavens. Another nun came out after the prayers. She smiled at us and beckoned. We obediently followed, hesitating. She beckoned some more, and we followed her into her quarters, removing our shoes first of course. Still silent and smiling, she bade us to sit down and began serving us water, slices of orange and little candies. We frantically took our five pages of Vietnamese phrases and searched for one that would be appropriate to the situation. "When does the last bus depart?" was not appropriate, we decided. We looked again. "I have malaria." "Where is the toilet?" No. And besides that we had mostly food phrases and words. Frustrated, we took sips of water, and said "thank you, thank you." Our nun continued to smile beatifically. She gave us a laminated card with a Buddha on it. We managed to convey that we wanted to give a donation to the temple. Then we started to put our shoes back on to leave. And that seemed to be OK. The nun pointed the way to the Buddha hill and off we went.

Trading Up

Hoi An is a quaint town of 60,000. Somewhat touristy, but quiet and very charming. It is situated on a river five miles from the coast. Formerly known as "Faifo," Hoi An was an internationally renown trading port until the early 19th century when the river silted up leaving the town as a mint condition repository of old Vietnamese, Chinese and Japanese architecture. It is also famous for its sewing industry. So we had fun getting some outfits made in between visits to historic houses and temples. We also made a half-day trip to see "My Son," a well known archeological site built by the Chams who were related to the Khmers of Angkor Wat fame. My Son was mostly in tact before the Vietnam War. The Americans obliterated most of the brick-built temples with bombs before the US president finally told the army to kill the Vietcong in some other fashion. The hills around the area still have some land mines which are discovered by grazing cows every once in a while. Minced meat anyone?

Need A Wheelbarrow?

We changed money in Hoi An. One has to do this every once in a while but not too often because of the reasonable prices and the weakness of the local currency ($1=13,000 Vietnamese Dong). If you changed too much money, you had to carry around too many bricks of bills. The largest bill was worth about $4. But that was nothing compared to Laos, where the largest bill was worth 50¢! At jewelry stores and banks we would see "bricks" of money stacked up in skyscraper fashion.

Onwards and Upwards

From Hoi An we took a minibus to our next destination, Hue. It was a two and half-hour trip stretched to four hours, with stops at the Marble Mountains (where there are caves with temples inside) and a mountain vista for pictures. In Hue we went to a hotel where we had made reservations, based on a recommendation from the guidebook. The hotel was near the gates of the old city (called the Forbidden City), so it had a good location, but the management was very bad, as we were soon to learn.

Falling on Deaf Ears

After lunch (finger food) at a famous backpacker cafe that was run by the deaf-mute, we returned to our hotel and were told that we had left our passports in Hoi An. "Oh no," we said, "you must be confusing us with other tourists. We have our passports." The hotel clerk, in weak English, explained that he had received a message from our hotel in Hoi An that we had left our passports on the bed. Laughingly, we checked for our passports to assure the clerk that we were not the tourists in question. W pulled out his money pouch from under his shirt and saw that his passport was there. H fished around in her money belt, and found that her passport was not there. She quickly figured out that she had left her passport at the bank when changing money back in Hoi An. The bank, being part of the government and therefore bureaucratic, had requested the address of our old hotel in order for us to change money. So they knew to call our hotel, and since we had asked our Hoi An hotel to help us make reservations in Hue, they also knew where to call. So the whole thing was very lucky. But at the time H thought, "what a drag." Because we soon figured that there was no other way to retrieve the passport except in person.

Hell Hotel

So H asked the Hue hotel to arrange for a taxi to go to Hoi An and back. After some dickering (and we did do some comparison shopping) the clerk arranged for her to go round-trip for $25. It was a good price, but the taxi wasn't really a taxi. The next morning, she got picked up by a car and driver, who then proceeded to drive around Hue, stopping to pick up other tourists. Two Australian women got in (who thought that they had arranged for a bus ride), and the driver tried for more tourists but there were no takers. So they arrived at the Hoi An Bank where the bank teller practically threw the passport at her — no retrieval problems there). But then the driver refused to take H back to Hue. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. So she had to wait for the next minibus. Upon her return to Hue, H learned that the hotel manager (different from the clerk who initially made the reservations) had been pestering W all day long for the taxi money, which the hotel had supposedly paid in advance. W had refused to pay until H was safely back. When H complained that the driver had left her stranded, the manager said that it was all her fault — she had deserted the taxi and taken a minibus back on purpose. Go figure! This misunderstanding grew into an ugly verbal battle with physical threats thrown in for good measure. We ended up giving the hotel owner all the money he wanted and fleeing across the river. We checked into a much nicer hotel and went to their Christmas Eve party, which was an interesting cross-cultural event (read, different).

Royal Treatment

While H was in pursuit of her passport, W spent the day wandering around the Imperial City in peaceful solitude, as there were very few attendants and barriers. It was like having the run of Versailles or the Forbidden City in Bejing for a day with no holds barred. A remarkable experience. On Christmas day we took a wonderful boat ride on the Perfume River. For $3, we got an all day ride, with stops at many royal temples and tombs, and a floating lunch In case you were wondering, the last Emperor of Vietnam retired to England in 1945.

Hot Dogs and Other Delicacies

In fact, our favorite aspect of traveling was experimenting with food. No, we did not try the ultimate northern delicacy: dog. H did try eel in Saigon, and found it to be too tubular and oily for her liking. W thought it tasty. But before you get upset about the dog thing, keep in mind that it is a delicacy and served only in the North on special occasions. In fact, the Vietnamese have dogs as pets too. Mostly, the thing to eat is seafood. Look at a map, and you will see why. Vietnam's coastline is longer than California's! Our favorite experiences, both for the novelty and the tastes were: black chick(en) in coconut (fully intact, read, beak and all), fried algae and bird nest soup (made from bird's saliva), and superb fresh baguettes, readily available in most towns and cities in Vietnam. Vietnamese coffee is an unlikely but delicious combination of strong cafe filtre and condensed milk. To H's perennial embarrassment, W took great pleasure in inspecting every menu at several restaurants before deciding where to dine at each and EVERY meal. Poor H, there are those who eat to live and those who don't.

Party Headquarters

The next day, we flew to the capital, Hanoi. After reading the book carefully on how to bargain-with-the-airport-taxi-drivers-and-get-a-Japanese-car-not-a-Russian-one, we got ourselves to friend Susan's house, where her fiancé, Bob was waiting for us. After a chat and a rest, we took a taxi over to Susan's office - Oxfam-Hong Kong, which she, as it turns out, directed. Oxfam-Hong Kong was located in a compound with all the other small aid organizations, like Bread for the World and CARE . It was good for them, because they could share the overhead expenses, and easy for the government to keep an eye on them. What a relief to step off the hotel/tourist merry-go-around and stay in an expatriate home for awhile. Susan had come to Vietnam 4 years earlier. She and some other colleagues found fertile ground for development work. We were able to have dinner with another Peace Corps connection, Greg, who works with the UNDP. He, his wife Greta, and their four little girls joined us for dinner in a "Tex.-Mex." restaurant in Hanoi.

Saving Face

Vietnam's revolutionary hero is Ho Chi Minh. "Ho" means uncle, so it's OK to say "Uncle Ho." When Uncle Ho died in 1969, his wish to be cremated was ignored and his body was preserved for younger generations, using Russian technology (read, stuffed and mounted). Nine months out of the year, when Uncle Ho is not in Russia for maintenance, he is available for viewing. We found that it was much more fun to get in the long, single file line (instead of the quick line for tourists) of mostly Vietnamese school kids, and march, under the stern watch of the tomb guards (no cameras, no hats, no smiles and no backpacks allowed), into the tomb. We both solemnly (outwardly at least...even though W secretly wanted to do an impromptu send-up on the spot) observed the refrigerator effect of the tomb and thought Uncle Ho looked very pale behind the glass. He needed to catch a few rays. It was nice to be out in fresh air again...

So Who's Pulling the Strings?

The water puppet show was a must see in Hanoi. The stage is water, the puppets are made of wood, and the puppeteers operate the puppets from behind a curtain, waist high in water, skillfully manipulating strings and levers. There were dragons spitting fire and smoke (a bit too much smoke, even for the poor musicians on the side), and tigers chasing ducks up a tree. There were fisher folk and boats and jokes. The producers had made a special show for foreigners, cutting the time from a traditional four hours to one. Whew!