Flying Solo in Cambodia, Vietnam Adventure, Part 6

The first day I got into Cambodia, I was striding on the main streets of Phnom Penh, alone, camera strung around my neck, Ipod in my ears, and excitement in my step. After walking around for hours and snapping pictures of landscapes and locals, I decided to stop on a ledge in the main pavilion. It was crowded with people sitting and chatting with kids and friends. I scribbled down my impressions, so instead of trying to recite it here and draw up memories of a week before, Ill just transcribe it for you now.

Journal entry, Feb 01, 2010.
It is hot in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
A lot different from the streets of Vietnam and the chaos of Saigon. The streets are wider and the air is clearer. Less beggars confront you and less sales children too. I guess there is more money in this country, and there are more cars on the streets then clusters of motorbikes.

The people here are absolutely beautiful.

The best part of Cambodia is neither the people or place, but the one fact that I am here alone on my own. I am really a lone traveller, a transient being. You cannot be truly alive and truly free it seems until you have walked unaccompanied into a new country. It seems every material good of any importance is on my body right now. Everything else I have are just "things", replaceable goods. All I need is my camera G10 that hangs so light and perfectly around my sweaty and tanned neck; my passport with stamps, proofs of the places Ive touched foot in; my Ipod, my single most favourite companion; my baby pink Moleskin, and I guess money, that which is easily earned and easily spent.




To explore a new land with your own two eyes and two feet just for yourself is a happiness, a simple contentedness I cannot quite explain. Nor would I completely give it justice if I attempted to put it into simple words. Feeling, once again, overrides my ability to speak. All I can say is that I am happy. I am fine. For once in my life I feel real and in the moment. I have control. I want to belong to no one country and be tied down to no one person. Let me live this life, this short meaningful life, a wanderer between time and space, on my own with the thoughts on these pages and my own schedule to abide by.

Its 6:30 pm, and every gland is still bleeding sweat. This terrace in front of the --pagoda?--in downtown Phnom Penh is awaken with city folks sitting on crowded ledges, and hundreds of people, literally, walking laps around the circular grassy courtyard. This dance-walk is none I've seen before. There is jump and rhythm in their step. a purpose, but not really. Its not like going to work, not an activity to be completed quickly. The walk itself is its own purpose with its own individual rewards. Oh those simple pleasures. I would get up and join the solitary crowds in their walk, but I spent my days walking, my feet are truly blistered and I'm more content in watching. Glancing up and seeing faces look at me. Wondering what they're thinking, what worries they have, what memories they made during the day.

I found that when I walked the streets of Korea, Vietnam, and Cambodia, I turn heads. Do I look like a foreigner in your eyes even though I'm constantly mistaken for your people? This three week trip, I have been stopped by strangers and been mistaken for Korean, Japanese, Cambodian, Vietnamese, Laotian, Chinese, and Thai. They all say the same thing, "Your face looks like...Cambodian or Vietnamese or Japanese or Thai etc..." I just smile shyly.

[Memory: I remember sitting on the beach in Nha Trang and two very old Japanese men stride by and stop abruptly. Look at me. Exclaim something excitedly in Japanese. They come over. And I think they re talking to me although I cant understand. At first I thought it was Vietnamese but I wasn't picking up on any of the words. I suddenly realized they were Japanese, and being an English teacher, I was able to navigate my way through the conversation quite easily. I pointed at them and said "Japan?" and they nodded and smiled and broke into louder exclamations. I pointed at me and said "Canadian!" This made them happy and they were all cheerful and smiles and old wrinkles. I point to me again and say "Vietnam-Canadian" and they do what is the equivalent of "OH!!!!!!" and more laughter and camaraderie, and then they point at me and say "Face like Japanese. and they say "pretty eyes" and they take a picture.]
Do I have the face of all of Asia? Maybe I am already the daughter of many lands, the face of many countries.

It is obvious every country has something absolutely amazing to offer, even if you have to travel six hours by motorbike into the jungle and endure relentless blood thirsty mosquito bites that will likely scar forever to find it. Other places don't make you work for it, but offer their beauty straight up as soon as you step out of the terminal runway, no bullshit there. --There is this effin adorable toddler smiling at me, I cant help but give him a heads up mention in my journal-- So why on earth spend more than couple years in one country on one continent.
End of Entry.

***

I think i spent an hour tyring to get to my hotel after that. I got lost, but I had taken a picture of the restaurant where I was meeting a new found friend for drinks on my camera. After wandering for a long while, I asked a group of men for help, and a police officer drove me on his motorbike to the place I needed to be. I had delicious Cambodian food and drank 2 dollar cocktails with a 27 year old French journalist I met who was travelling and blogging and freelancing for six months in Indochina.
It was a great first night in Cambodia.

***

The next day, I woke up and took a four hour bus ride to Sihanoukville, the southern coast of Cambodia where there were a variety of beaches in the secluded town. I only had two days to spend there and it definitely wasn't enough. It was a physical battle to pry myself away from the hot sand and return to Saigon in time to catch my flight home.





This concludes my Vietnam adventures.
I have more pictures to post, but I am still laptopless, so until then.

Saigon and Submarines, Vietnam Adventure, Part 5

The winding alleyways are the best places to find Saigon culture.

Ho Chi Minh City: Been there, seen there, done that.

It took about 12 hours, or maybe less, to get from Nha Trang to the heart of Saigon and the first thing that hits you when you get off the air conditioned train is the sweltering heat. The heat in Saigon was honestly quite sickening. I was forced to wear the bare minimum of clothing to keep from being cooked alive.

Before arriving to Vietnam, I was stoked about staying in Saigon, hoping that spending about a week there would make me happy. But Saigon was my least favourite part of Vietnam. Ill admit, its a great city, but one that can drive you crazy with the noise and the interruptions. Try sitting down in front of your guest house in the morning, sipping on some ice cold Vietnamese coffee on a tiny plastic stool while writing postcards to friends back home...its an utterly impossible task because you'll soon be bombarded by locals trying to sell you stuff like fruit, gum, sunglasses, more postcards, paintings, pedicures, anything you can imagine. And the same people come up to you over and over again. Its hard not to get angry because you understand there is a desperation behind their need to sell. But trying to keep your cool in 30 degree heat is also a desperation.


Yup, that's a caged monkey. He was eating a bunch of bananas, focused entirely on the task, so that when I approached him he gave me an awful look and faked jumping forward to assault me.



I spent the days walking around and going shopping at the marketplace, eating Saigon delicacies (I had the best dinner my first night there of delicious fish and soup and seafood), wandering the intricate alleyways where you can easily lose your way. I found myself going on a motorbike tour with my cousin and then to the War Museum. It was nice, but after the first couple days, I wanted some peace and a little quiet. I wanted to claim Saigon as my own, like I did in Vinh, Hue, and in Nha Trang, but clearly this was not to happen in the overcrowded streets. Saigon belonged to everyone and there was no small deposit of it that I could have made mine. I stayed at about three different guesthouses on the main tourist strip, and then two nights at my cousin's house in a alleyway neighbourhood about 30 minutes away.



***
The best part of Saigon to me were the Vietnamese subs. Every morning I would wake up, walk five minutes from my guest house to this outdoor stand, buy a sub and order a freshly made fruit shake (mango, avocado, sour sop, etc) and sit in the park and eat. It was like heaven in my mouth. Its hard to find good bread in Korea...they don't have ovens, so having a real baguette, hard and crunchy on the outside and soft flaky deliciousness on the inside...and then a refreshing real fruit shake...all for 20,000 dong, the equivalent of 1.00$ CDN.

Vietnam sub and mango shake.

Vietnam sub and soursop shake.
***

But on the fifth morning, that naseating feeling was stronger than ever so I awoke at 5am and bought a bus ticket for one to Cambodia, the Kingom of Wonder.

A friend I met on my first night in Hue and later again, out of nowhere, I spotted her walking down the street in Saigon.

Romancing Nha Trang, Vietnam Adventure, Part 4

Nha Trang: If I could always be next to water, I would die
happy.

After three nights in Hue, I thought it was time to move on. I was starting to get this nauseating feeling of routine, of waking up and seeing the same things and visiting the same places. So I knew if Hue was to stay in my good books, I would have to leave ASAP. My travel mate and I seemed happily fed on the sights and sounds of Hue, so we bought a one way train ticket to Nha Trang. I have to admit, I wished we stopped off at Hoi An, but I have a new place to visit if ever I return to Vietnam.





The Reunification Express is dubbed the slowest locomotive in the world, but it wasn't too bad. It was a little unclean and rundown looking, but what more could you expect. And there was air conditioning, so much of it that I was freezing and had to use Henry’s jacket as a blanket. We left around 7 pm at night, and I managed to sleep through most of the trip, waking up morning time to see some pretty scenery. It took 14 hours to get to Nha Trang, but after some rainy and cloudy weather in Hue, we needed some heat, some sunshine, and some sand in our pants. I remember stepping out of the train station in Nha Trang, I was unbathed, sticky, teeth unbrushed, messy hair in yesterday's clothes, and I felt so unsexy. I remember the heat on me and my growling stomach. The sky was brighter in Nha Trang and the air a bit dreamier. I was instantly in love.

So here begins my four day fairy tale adventure in Nha Trang where I had the best pho in my life, fell in love with a French boy on the beach, stayed at the nicest 12$ hotel, and got my tongue pierced.

Okay, so after spending all my time in Hue site seeing and exploring, all I wanted to do was lie on a beach under the sun with no itinerary, just be sloppy and relaxed. Everyone complained about Nha Trang beaches saying they were “Shit,” but I loved it anyways. I just love the beach culture in Nha Trang, how the water thrashes onto the shores and all you hear are waves. And then when you look behind you across the road, its city life, the locals are at work. I spent most of my days walking along the coastline, feet in the sand, reading, talking to strangers, just listening to the water.





***

My Beachside Romantic Rendezvous
The first thing I did on my first day in Nha Trang after I got off the train, found a guest house, showered, and had a midday cocktail, was find my way to the water. There I stayed till evening time watching little local boys play football (aka soccer) with Henry and some of the other foreign travelers. It was the cutest thing to see these tiny little Vietnamese boys take off their shirts and do it big against these tall muscular white men. Every time the other team scored, they had to do push ups. The youngest kid had to have been about 12 or something. They were pretty good.

Anyways, I was walking along the beach and suddenly spotted this man, sky high tall with long dark curly hair. He had the cutest scruff and khaki capris on and a buttoned down loose dress shirt on. By far the hottest person Ive seen in Vietnam. In all of Asia. In all of Canada. Maybe the hottest boy I have ever met.

So I walked past him totally awestruck at his perfect existence and found a nice cozy spot in the sand about ten minutes from where he was. It was getting dark out and you can see the couples emerge, young locals off from work, walking hand in hand along the water, giggling and laughing, letting loose. The beach has such a magical power. In the day, it was bombarded with foreigners, but at night, the locals emerged and reclaimed their beach. Families came out at night, chubby toddlers stumbling over chubby ankles, wives sitting in circles playing card games while eating slices of mangos and dried squid and an assortment of other seafoods, and dads sitting on ledges drinking cans of beer sold from sellers.





I was sitting in the sand watching all this magic happen when I see DreamMan come walking in front of me, sandals held in one hand, feet in the water. As I was mindlessly staring at him, wondering about his cuteness and where he was from, a huge wave washes up and soaks him knee deep. He stumbles a bit and does a jiggle and I chuckle at the sight of it; this towering man getting a little supersoaked by the waves. I smile at him. He smiles at me and keeps walking. It was great because I was really peeved at myself for not smiling at him the first time I walked by, for being too shy to even look at him. So I felt I redeemed myself and was content.

As I get up to leave afterwards, I see him come back and we exchange awkward smiles. We carry on walking our separate ways, but he does a double take and reverses, comes up to me and says with the hottest French accent, “Are you here alone?” Well, at that moment I was alone, so he invited me to hang out with him and his French friend who, like me and Henry, had just arrived in Nha Trang that day. So two sets of travelers who just arrived in a new city. We had dinner and explored the nightlife together. It was super fun. Cheap drinks, the sound of the water nearby, and that lighthearted feeling of vacation made midnight walks in the sand with my DreamMan all the more romantic. When we parted ways on the last day, I was feeling bittersweet, excited about Saigon but sad about never seeing him again. We exchanged information, but I have not added him to FaceBook, and I dont think I will. Our romantic three night fling was too perfect, like the happy romances you read in books and see in movies that gives you a brief fleeting feeling of hope. A hope that love really exists. And I believe that love exists in snapshots. To get to know him by email exchanges would ruin the fantasy of it all. And I would rather let those three nights stay untainted in my head and remain the perfect romantic memory. A brief lovestory on the beautiful beachside of Vietnam.
***
Because I wasn't up for exploring the city and only wanted to lounge around, sipping cocktails, and flirting with French men, I did miss out on the city’s little secrets. The last night there, Henry and I went out for dinner with a local, a university professor who took us to eat snake meat at a local outdoor eatery where I was raped by a million mosquitoes. And then we went motorbiking down the coast, past the main beach to a restaurant that served amazing seafood, which I could not eat because of my tongue ring. I cannot wait until I get back to Nha Trang and see the rest of the city.


So we wanted to drink snake blood, but because of bad translation, our local friend brought us to eat dead snake instead. Mmmm....


He was really nice. I forget what he teaches but he a professor at Nha Trang's university.



It was hard to leave Nha Trang behind because it was such an awesome place. Warm weather, friendly locals, and the lazy atmosphere of the beaches, but we were creeping on Day Four, and the need to keep moving was there. So we packed our bags again and to the train station we went, picked up a noon ticket, and off we were to the chaos of Saigon.

Motorbiking in Hue, Vietnam Adventure, Part 3

Hue: The place I was born, where my parents lived. It's like Vietnam's little secret.

Hue is located about mid-center Vietnam. I was very lucky to experience both sides of Hue, the countryside and the downtown core, or what I like to call, Motorbike Mania. It is unbelievable how I did not witness one accident during my trip there, with clusters of motorbikes and hardly any official driving rules. But by the end of my trip, I was very confident in the hands of local drivers, it was the foreigners on bikes that scared the bejeesus out of me though!

Hue, the Villager's Perspective.


Locals selling produce, meats, and fish at the local market.

My uncle's house. He lives in my late grandparent's house though where they are surrounded by people and lively neighbours.

I believe this is the picture I took of the house my dad used to live in. Look how tiny it is. The one exciting part though...its two steps away from the beach.

Fishing boats. My beautiful 19-year-old cousin who my dad tried to marry off with my travelling friend.

***
I spent one night at my dad's little brother's house about an hour away by motorbike and 15 minutes by boat from the center of Hue. It was next to one of the only beaches in Hue. The area was quiet and the houses in the village were all built closely together that you often had various visitors just drop by everyday. I had a lot of neighbours drop by and say hi, and I visited various homes. I saw the house my dad used to live in and it is probably the size of my bathroom right now in my South Korean apartment.

In the countryside, it seemed people occupied themselves, or rather, based their daily activities on meal preparation. Unlike in more developed countries, where a dinner or breakfast could take less than five minutes to prepare, in Hue, it can take around two hours prep time. I found that as soon as breakfast was done, my aunt and cousins would get started on lunch, and when lunch was done, dinner was being prepared. Each meal had many hands to help prepare it from washing, chopping, cutting, boiling, fetching, and cooking, and it seemed a very sociable activity. All the girls focused on housework and meal making while the men did about shit all. I remember my mom and dad trying to raise me like that back when it was almost possible to teach me things. They would use phrases like "if you don't learn how to cook, how will you cook for your husband?" and my favourite line by my father when he was bent out of shape was "whats the point of having so many daughters if they cant do this for you!?"


Lighting incenses for my late grandma and grandpa.


Lighting incense at their place of burial. I'm surrounded by my cousins. Man, I must admit, I come from a beautiful family.

I spent a lot of time visiting tombstones and burial sites of my relatives, of my grandparents, great grandparents, aunts, and uncles. I had to light incense. It occurred to me that the Vietnamese treat their dead very respectably and in some circumstances their place of death is better than their place of living.

***

Hue, City side


So after four days with my family, I was soooo happy to be on my own. This was taken about 30 seconds after I got dropped off by my uncle to begin my real Vietnam adventure.

Okay, I loved the quiet country of Hue, but I was smitten by the city life. It wasn't loud and chaotic and smoggy as Saigon. I found it to contain both sides, commercialism, night life, lights and noise, but at a comfortable level. Here, I spent my first day taking an eight hour motorbike tour of the DMZ. It was probably one of the best highlights of my trip. Getting on a motorbike and zigzagging past cars and trucks on both sides of the streets, sidestepping speed bumps, pedestrians, and dodging wild animals. The weather was perfect on this day, the sky teased us a little, threatened to rain, but it held off and we soared on the streets, wind in our hair, and dry clothes on our backs.

Hue is magnificent. It is a visual enchantment. Although it rained a lot there, the weather was pretty agreeable, the people were charming, and the atmosphere was welcoming. Like I said, its a mix of city and country, loud and quiet, and I could definitely see myself living there.

The second day in Hue, I took a motorbike city tour with a tour guide booked at Stop and Go Cafe. A GREAT little restaurant and tourist/backpacker's place that served me great Vietnamese coffee daily and entertained my eyes with the cutest Vietnamese man I ever met. The tour was great fun and the rain fell on us, but I was amused and happily wore a pink raincoat parka thing to sight see.

The night life in Hue was also rather fun. I remember on my last night there, I went to a bar called Brown Eyes, got happily buzzed, and then lost my friend in the middle of the night and wandered the streets at 3 am trying to find my guest house. The problem was I had taken a picture of the hotel name and street address but left my camera at the hotel. I thought that was a smart move on my part. So I wandered on deserted streets for about half an hour until I stumbled back to Brown Eyes. I had been chatting with the local club owner and we were pretty chummy chummy so he agreed to help me find my hotel after he finished closing up. We hopped on the motorbike and I realized I was quite famished after only having some spring rolls for dinner. So we went to an all night pho "booth", one of those outside vendors with tiny preschool sized tables and chairs. There we sat and they served us an assortment of Vietnamese food, all delicious, all probably contaminated with some bacteria as everything I ate in Vietnam led to tummy turmoil. But it was tasty and the lady serving us kept putting six Saigon beers by the table. I thought we had to pay for them although we did not order them so I obediently drank drank and drank. And when the six were up, she put six more, and I waved my hand no, I cannot possible have any more. Apparently, you just drink what you can, and pay for what you drink. Silly me. It was a rather nice night.

[Side note: Saigon beer tastes good warm. It is the only beer I have drank in my life that is decent tasting even when warm. They don't have refrigerators so beer is normally served in glass mugs with huge chunks of cylindrical ice cubes that melt ferociously, watering down your beer, so I normally just drank my Saigon as is. Delicious.]

I really enjoyed fraternizing with the locals, I learned a lot about their individual mindsets, and their drive as a collective whole. It took about half an hour to find my hotel and I stumbled home around 6amish.

The next evening, we packed our bags and left Hue.

Family Power, Vietnam Adventure, Part 2

Day One: Arrival in Saigon
Day Two: Take a plane ride up north to the absolutely beautiful Vinh countryside.

About two weeks before my scheduled trip to Vietnam, my mother gave me some really upsetting news. My grandpa was lying in a hospital deathbed, barely able to move on his own, and without the ability to speak. Things weren't looking too good for him. So my mom booked a flight to see him that coincidentally coincided with my trip too. See, I have never met this grandparent before so this meeting meant a bit more to me. It would most likely be the last time my mother would ever see her dad and the only time I would see my grandpa.

We went on motorbikes to the hospital, a very decrepit and disgusting looking place with hard beds, the scent of urine, and the thick heavy air that follows sickness around. He was lying in a bed in a room filled with other patients. Family members surrounded him, and he was so tiny looking. He was frail like a tiny underfed child, an old man looking shrivelled and spent. He saw my mom and me and tears watered his eyes. His eyes beamed. My mom couldnt contain herself either and her eyes began to cry too.

I was feeling nervous, scared, and anxious. I have never met him before. I dont even think he saw me as a baby because after I was born, two weeks later, I was already gone. I wished at the moment I had better grasp of my native language so I could express myself, put proper words to convey my honest feelings. But it was hard and I just sat there, sometimes stroking his soft swollen hands.






From the weeks before and days after I arrived, my grandpa was visited by countless relatives, visiting him in the hospital, nursing him better, and saying potential goodbyes. Well, the day after my mom and I arrived, he was permitted to leave the hospital and return home. He had regained his ability to speak, could stand and sit with assistance. He had gotten a lot better. I guess the power and love of family and can really will you back to bettter health.

Vinh: A landscape uninterupted by powerlines, hi-rises, development, but just rice fields across the horizon.






I spent three days and two nights in Vinh, at my aunt's house. It was a lot like camping and it was one of my favourite spots in Vietnam. My relatives lived about an hour's drive from the main center I guess of Vinh, where there were dirt roads and endless upon endless stretchs of rice paddy fields. Young girls and women worked the fields pulling buffalo along, turning the soil, ankles deep in brownish moppy water.

Although dreadfully cold at night, during the day the weather was mild and the rain was minimal. The most captivating part of Vinh were the colours. Bright vibrant blues in the skies, soft white fluffy clouds, lime luscious greens in the grass, rusty brown dirt on the roads, orange yellow at dawn, and at night when riding on a motorbike along the bumpy road the sky is emblazoned with starlight. If you could imagine a a place so untouched by the hands of progress I think it would be Vinh. I have never seen so much land uninterrupted by powerlines, and high rises, and even houses.

My aunt's house had buffalos, ducks, dogs, cats, chickens, pigs, everything you can name. They looked like happy animals, fed enough, tails wagging. (The buffalos in Vietnam were always wagging their tails!) The dogs were never chained.

I must also say, that from all the places in Vietnam that I got to travel to, from the bustling city streets of Ho Chi Minh and the subdued scenery of Hue and the beachy culture of Nha Trang, Vinh had the nicest and humblest inhabitants. I have experienced less begging and hustling from the people in Vinh than in any other part of Vietnam. And Vinh is an intensely poor village.