Good Night, Vietnam!

Sometimes you're the windshield. Sometimes you're the bug. After three days at the beach at Nha Trang, I was feeling like the windshield. There was plenty of sun and almost no rain. I ate great food; I took an exquisite booze cruise; and I never had to use my earplugs while sleeping (an amazing feat when you're staying at budget hotels). Life was coming up roses. The good times were rolling and I thought nothing could stop me...

And then I got on a bus. This wasn't just any ol' bus. This was the Vietnam special, 10 hour "sleeper" bus. It's designed to allow tourists to travel at night so as not to lose a day of sightseeing. It's ironically named because the last thing anyone could ever possibly do is sleep while on this bus. The bus itself, while shit, isn't even really the problem. It's a regular bus but instead of seats there are three rows of bunk beds stacked right next to one another. The "beds" basically look and feel like hospital gurneys: long and narrow foam pads with metal bars sticking up on the sides to keep passengers from falling out. The beds are way too short for me, so I had the pleasure of having my knees in my chin for 10 hours. Despite all this, sleep might have been possible if not for the fact that the driver thought he was Mario Andretti. For reasons unknown, he decided that the best way to drive this particular bus over unpaved and potholed roads, sans suspension and shocks, was to put the pedal to the metal. So there we are, 35 tourists lying down in these beds and flopping around like fish out of water. (Kinda like this fella, right before he became lunch.) So when we arrived at 6am the next morning, everyone on the bus went to sleep for eight hours, thus not only defeating the very purpose of the sleeper bus but also undoing all the good vibes built up over the last few days at the beach. In just a mere ten hours, I went from feeling like I was the windshield to feeling like I was the dead bug being washed away by the wipers...

So I arrived in the city of Hoi An on that note. Fortunately, Hoi An is the kind of place that soothes the soul. It's a small place that can be walked from edge to edge in about 20 minutes. I'd call it a quaint town. (Is there any other word regularly used with "quaint" other than "town"? Quaint village? Quaint home? Nothing comes to mind. I'm not sure where I'm going with that, anyway. These are the random things you think about when you're alone on a bus for 10 hours.) The main "sight" in Hoi An is actually a subsection of the city known as Old Town Hoi An. It's about ten square blocks where the buildings erected in the late 19th century have been preserved. These buildings blend Vietnamese and French styles for an interesting look. The best part of Old Town is that it is closed to traffic so it's just people milling about. This becomes particularly pleasant at night as tons of low-key bars, restaurants, boutiques, and tailors open up to locals and tourists alike. Thousands of people are just walking around these beautiful streets with not a car or moped to be seen or heard. It's basically the ideal place to live whether in Vietnam or the US - people are having a good time, there's a laid back and safe feel, and everything you could possibly need is within walking distance. I only had time to spend one night here and I regret not staying longer.

Since I sure as shit wasn't taking another sleeper bus, the next morning I boarded a plane to Hanoi. From the second you walk off the plane, there's no mistaking where you are: the capital of Vietnam and the home of all things Ho Chi Minh. Pictures of Uncle Ho are everywhere; he always has a benign little smile and the propaganda billboards inevitably picture him holding a little child or having a white dove flying behind him. As expected, his mausoleum looms over the city like an ever watchful eye in the sky. It's not the tallest structure, or the biggest, but it's quite imposing. I was looking forward to seeing the man in his tomb (although interestingly he gave specific instructions that he wanted to be cremated), but I have shitty timing. From September 2 to November 7, they take his body to Moscow for "cleaning." I'm unsure why a guy who's been dead for 35 years needs to be cleaned two months out of every year - or what that even entails - but this nonsense caused me to miss seeing him by two days, since I arrived on September 4. Nice planning, moron.

In addition to the mausoleum, there's a huge complex of buildings related to Uncle Ho: the house he lived in when he was in power (pictured here); the Presidential Palace (which you can't go in, or even really get close to), and a museum dedicated to the history of Vietnam after it declared independence from France. As always, the information has to be taken with a grain of salt given that it's written by the government. But the story about Ho Chi Minh's background and his path to the top seems well-documented and presents an interesting tale of how he came to power.

Like every other major city in Vietnam (and Southeast Asia), Hanoi is crowded and moves at a fast pace. Street vendors are everywhere; crossing the street is an extreme sport; and there's never a quiet moment. I'm getting used to it now, so it just becomes the background noise of life. Besides the Ho Chi Minh-related sights, there's plenty else to see. For starters, there's the park dedicated to V.I.Lenin. The park itself is small and not really noteworthy. However, it seemed to be to be the place where degenerate teenagers congregate and do nothing. It's probably the closest thing that Hanoi has to LA's Venice Beach, so that was kind of heartwarming for me... I also visited the revered Temple of Literature. "Temple" is a bit of a misnomer; it's actually the first university in Vietnam dating back to the 11th century. It's little more than a few courtyards and two main structures, but the architecture is original so it provides an interesting glimpse into traditional Vietnamese design that's 1000 years old. And no tour of Hanoi is complete without visiting the Old Quarter, located in the southeast part of the city. One of its functions today is to house the significantly large number of tourists flooding the city, but it is also the historic center of the city and as such many native Hanoians are tied to this area. The center of the Old Quarter is Haem Boak Lake. There's a really interesting legend about the lake involving a giant turtle, a dragon, and the king, and how they all tied together to lead to the formation of Hanoi as the capital, but I forget it. Regardless, there's a monument commerating that legend in the middle of the lake. Tons of people come to sit down and enjoy some ice cream and sit by the lake. I can't say it's all that relaxing, though, because there's only about 10 yards of buffer (a small patch of grass and the sidewalk) between the lake and the road, so all you hear is honking, all the time.

One of my favorite sights to visit was the Hoa Lo Prison, better known to many Americans as the "Hanoi Hilton." It was a huge prison structure built by the French in the 19th century that was later used by the Vietnamese as a POW camp for Americans during the war, with the most famous POW being John McCain. (They claim that this is the actual pilot gear that McCain was wearing when he was captured.) The prison is a shadow of its former self; 90% has been torn down and rebuilt as a commercial high-rise. What little is left of the prison is now a museum largely dedicated to the history of the French detention of Vietnamese prior to 1954. There's only a single room in the museum that describes the detention of American POWs. The way they describe it, GIs were living in resort. I love the third paragraph in this little sign they had posted. I wonder what the POWs would think of that? They also have pictures and artifacts showing the POWs playing volleyball, laughing while watching movies, and generally having a good time. I don't remember that from my American History class.

Finally, no trip to Hanoi is complete without watching some traditional water puppetry. These puppets, about two or three feet tall, are attached at the bottom to poles that are hidden under water and moved around by people who are shielded from view by a screen. The closest thing I can compare it to is a marionette, but instead of wires from above, it's poles from below. I'm told that the puppet operators have to train for three years before they can perform before an audience. It's accompanied by traditional music that is performed live. It was thoroughly entertaining even though I couldn't understand a word.

Perhaps my most memorable experience in Hanoi was the time I got screwed by a taxi driver and then decided to screw him back. So I get into the cab and tell him to go to one place about 5 miles away. After 10 minutes stuck in traffic and going nowhere, with the meter running furiously, I told him to just take me back to my hotel. Whether by accident or not, he ignores my request and drives way out of the way before I finally get him on course. It ends up costing an extra 10 dollars, which in Vietnam would cover food and hotel for a day. So when I get out of the car, I give him way less than the meter - basically, what I think the fare should have been. I take off like the car is on fire and try to disappear into the sea of humanity on the sidewalk. Just when I think I'm in the clear, I look back (never look back!) and... you guessed it, he's chasing after me. Finally, I get to a point where I can't get away because of a pedestrian jam, and at this point, he's in my face and shouting pretty loudly which of course draws the attention of some locals who start forming a circle around us. Part of me was thinking, "Alright guys, you want to dance, let's dance. I'm at least a foot taller and 40 pounds heavier than each one of you." But the more rational part was thinking, "Shit." Just at that moment, some other-worldly force was kind enough to create a break in the traffic, like Moses parting the Red Sea. I made it across but my pursuers were left on the other side of the street. Ahh, sweet, sweet victory.

From Hanoi, I took a day trip to what is commonly known as the "Perfume Pagoda." It's built into a cave that's a bitch to get to - first a two hour bus ride, then a one hour boat ride, then a one hour hike in the mountains. The pagoda is really just a series of altars that people come to for worship. My guide told me that around the New Year in February, hundreds of thousands of people come to pay homage and pray for... whatever. There are other pagodas in the area and they are also very inspiring given their locale and the expansive view that they have of the surrounding valley. This one was built into the hillside in the 16th century and remains an active place of study and worship for monks. The best part of the trip was by far the boat ride. A single Vietnamese woman was at the helm of this tiny little boat with seven tourists and was rowing as hard as she could. (Calling it a "boat" is pretty generous. It was more like a curved piece of scrap metal.) It was a perfectly peaceful little trip down the river. But this boat was clearly not designed for seven larger-sized people as the edge of the boat was only two inches from the water by the time we all sat down. Not a problem when it was sunny and clear out because the river is virtually still, as pictured here. But on the return trip, it started to drizzle, then rain, then the heavens opened up and then... oh shit, there's water coming into the boat. We all look to the boat driver and she's yelling at us to do something. After a few seconds of us looking at her dumbfounded because we can't understand a word she's saying, she makes the international gesture for "get-off-your-fucking-lazy-asses-and-start-doing-something-to-get-the-water-out-of-the-boat." Hilarity ensued as the seven of us (me, three British, and three Spaniards) were frantically using our hands to get water out of the boat. It was working, sort of. We really thought we were going to make it. But then one of the Brits jinxed us. We were just within reach of land when he said, "We made it." Nope, thanks for playing, good luck next time. We needed the boat trip to have been four feet shorter, that's how close we came to making it. Harsh reality then set in: water, water everywhere. Galung, galung, galung. Down she went. Fortunately, I was in the front of the boat and made a giant leap for it (thank you, long legs and light frame). I didn't quite hit land, but where I landed the water was only about shin deep. The Spaniards... not so fortunate.

(At this point I'd like to give a special thanks to the good people who operate the Sofitel hotel in Hanoi. They have a great pool. One afternoon when the temperature deviated from the normal "really hot" to "hot enough to melt the skin off you bones" I decided to crash there for a few hours. I lied and said I was a guest. Here's the best part: at noon the pool boy came around with a plate of fresh fruit and at 2pm he came around with chocolate ice cream in a waffle cone. Free to all "guests." Sofitel - you've earned my loyalty. I'm only going to lie and cheat my way into your pools from now on. Stay classy, Sofitel.)

After a few days in Hanoi, it was time to move on, again. I was headed for Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island, about a four hour drive from Hanoi to the South China Sea. Halong Bay is famous because it has thousands of limestone karsts jutting out of the water. It makes for an amazing scene. Most backpackers opt for a two- or three-day an organized tour of the bay and the major islands. I heard some bad things about these tours - too structured, terrible food, crappy guides - so I tried to arrange my travel plans on my own. The first day worked out well as I caught a bus to the bay and took a five hour boat trip to see some of the karsts up close. There's a bunch of natural caves in these limestone formations - some down in the water, others hundreds of meters up in the rock - and the tour guide took us on a little boat ride to explore them. There are also a bunch of lagoons only accessible by small breaks in the limestone at sea level, like this one. After the first day was completed, I broke off on my own with the goal of heading early the next morning to Cat Ba Island - the largest and prettiest of the islands in the bay. And so begins the story of why you shouldn't venture out on your own for these sorts of things. I had no idea how to actually get to Cat Ba Island; I just figured there would be a ferry or I could pay for a quick speedboat. Nuh-uh. After I disembarked from the tour boat, I proceeded to ask four different people about the best/fastest/cheapest way to get to the island. Here's what happened (note: most of these conversations were in unintelligible broken English. I've translated as best I can):

Me [politely]: "Excuse me. What's the best/fastest/cheapest way to get to Cat Ba island tomorrow morning?"

Unhelpful Person No. 1 [woman at information desk at harbor]: "There's a 7:30 am ferry the next morning but it leaves from a different city and doesn't take tourists, so it won't work for you."

Unhelpful Person No. 2 [hotel manager]: "There is no ferry anywhere. the woman is wrong. The next earliest tour boat is 1pm tomorrow and would take five hours to get to the island. Or, you can pay me $112 to arrange a private charter at 8am."

Unhelpful Person No. 3 [random street vendor]: "I don't understand a word you're saying."

Unhelpful Person No. 4 [internet cafe manager]: "You can just hop on one of the tour boats at 9am. It will take 5 hours because they will tour the bay but it will only cost a few bucks. The captain will be glad to take you money. Under no circumstances should you pay for the private charter."

So there I was, dazed and confused: four different people, four different, contradictory answers. If there were ever a time for a beer, this was it. And who would have known that my desire, my need, for a beer would provide me with the solution to all my problems. The woman who owned the bar started talking with me (I was the only customer) and explained everything - there was a ferry, it was in a different city but it was only a five minute taxi ride away, it left at 7:30 am, and of course it didn't matter that I was a tourist. Then, as if that weren't helpful enough, she wrote everything out in Vietnamese that I need to say to people (ie, for the taxi driver, "I want to go to the ferry for the 7:30am boat"). The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me...

So I made it to Cat Ba Island the next morning. Was it worth the travel and the hassle? Eh. No doubt it's pretty but it rained for two days, thereby ruining virtually every outdoor activity I had planned, including rock climbing, which was what I really came to do. The limestone karsts in the open sea make for great climbing, so I'm told, and the best part is that you can climb to the top of these karsts and you don't have to climb down - you just jump into the water. There was some sun that peaked out every now and then, and when it did, the island's beauty lit up. At one point while I was riding my motorbike, I just stopped on the side of the road to enjoy the scenery. Damned prettiest road I've ever been on. Plus, there's the added bonus of coming across the occasional goat fight in the middle of the road. How often can you say that? Overall, though, on a scale of 1 to 10, I was expecting "Holy Shit!" but only got "Not Too Fucking Bad."

And so ended my trip in Vietnam. The beer was plentiful, the beaches were great, and the end came too soon. I thoroughly enjoyed my three weeks here, even if getting from one place to another was a real pain in the ass. After Cat Ba Island, I took a bus back to Hanoi. Vietnam and I said our goodbyes and parted ways at the airport. Now, it's time for Laos...