Saigon

People often call the southern Vientamese city of Saigon Ho Chi Minh City, or HCMC. I choose to adopt the acronym, but only under the more appropriate name "Highly Congested Motorbike Catastrophe."

You have to stay on your toes in Saigon. Although Guide Books generally regard it as a very safe destination, people always seem to be warning against some imminent danger. "Put your bag ACROSS your shoulders!" "Be careful at ATMs!" "Lock valuables in the Guest House safe," etc... etc... Luckily I had no problems (perhaps because I heeded these warnings - thank you nice guest house lady..). For the most part I found the people in southern Vietnam to be very kind with the exception of their driving habits. Never have I seen a city so devoid of logical traffic organization.

IT'S MADNESS I TELL YOU!!!!

On my first evening in HCMC, I went to run errands and found myself waiting on the sidewalk, unable to cross through two lanes of opposing bumper to bumper speeding motorbikes. Dumbfounded, I looked yearningly at the laundry service directly across the street, waiting 2, then 3, then 4 minutes, until a kindly gentleman took pity on me. He took me by the wrist and guided me across like some kind of invincible super hero -- Ho Chi Moses parting a seemingly insurmountable sea of racing motorbikes. (What? Ok, so I'm wierd).

Nowhwere were we safe from the onslaught of motorbikes. They buzzed irreverently up onto pedestrian sidewalks, transforming them into narrow speedways. They prowled the labyrinthine mazes of the markets with impossible agility. Like the little Pepperidge Farm goldfish on the white paper bag, they boldly braved traffic going the opposite direction at high speed. They randomly parked on the street, forcing pedestrians to walk around and risk the perilous waves of motorbikes. Horns of every kind errupted in a constant chorus. Madness!

Despite the traffic craziness, we had an enjoyable stay in HCMC. We spent one day exploring the city's various parks and museums, including the "Reunification Palace," the equivalent of the South Vietnamese White House, left spookily untouched since the Priminister last occupied it in the late 60s. It looks like a scene straight out of one of the original James Bond movies, complete with long polished conference tables and tacky 60s era wall decorations.

One of HCMC's many parks

We found a wonderful back alley kitchen that made delicious fresh spring rolls and Vietnamese "pancakes" - huge doughy things stuffed with veggies and pork. You wrap the pancakes in mint and lettuce leaves and dip the whole shabang in a delicious sweet sauce.

The following day we took a day trip to the Mekong River Delta. This included a boat ride to several small islands along the Mekong, and coconut candy demonstrations and tastings. (My dream tour! Don't worry - I'm bringing lots home!) For lunch we took the boat to a second island, where we feasted on a frightening pirannha-like fish. We spent some time exploring the island by bicycle before the third boat ride.

Matt: Very afraid of the pirhanna devil fish. (Note the hot pepper in his toothy mouth. It was a nice touch)

Photos from the Mekong River Delta and Floating Markets:

One item for sale at the coconut candy plantation was Vietnamese rice wine. This wine tastes like a rough sake, and is infused with bits of dead decaying animals (it is believed that these animals impart the drinker with power and certain vaguely described "health benefits"). Here are some pictures of different rice wines containing various eesty beasties including snakes and scorpions. The latter picture shows a concoction that contained the remains of a large dead bird floating on top. I offered Matt $100 to take a shot but he refused. (I blame NIH)

The morning we left Saigon, we found the best bubble tea cafe in existence (lychee bubble tea... heavenly). Also I should note that I found a pastry in the shape of a hedgehog. Yes! Before we knew it we were off to the train station to take the overnight sleeper train to Hanoi.

Look -- it's an edible Iggy (my former pet hedgehog)!

Pnom Penh... (bless you)

Doesn't the name of this capital city sound like a sneeze?.... Just an observation I couldn't help bringing up....

Decorative door from the Royal Silver Palace

In Pnom Penh I discovered a quaint colonial district with an impressive riverfront park. Cambodian families gathered for picnics and street vendors sold fruit and popcorn from rickety wagons. Opposite the park we spent much of our time exploring a stretch of French colonial buildings, cafes, restaurants, and pubs. During the oppressively hot days, the cool garden cafes provided a welcome respite, while trendy roof top bars allowed us to enjoy the river view at night.

Drinking fancy cocktails (and looking terrified for no particular reason) at a rooftop bar overlooking the riverfront

We did a few touristy things in Pnom Penh, trying to balance the barrage of depressing reminders of Cambodia's brutal history with more lighthearted (i.e. "normal") attractions. We spent a day visiting the Silver Palace, then visited Genocide Museum and took a tuk tuk to visit the haunting "Killing Fields" -- a mass grave where Pol Pot's insidious Khmer Rouge tortured and murdered thousands of Cambodian citizens. Thoroughly depressed, though better informed regarding the tragic history haunting this developing nation, we tried to cheer ourselves up with Cambodian barbeque and ice cream.

Pictures from the Royal Silver Palace

Boats, buses and floating villages

There's a big lake in the middle of Cambodia called Tonle Sap. It runs north-south between Siem Reap and the capital, Pnom Penh. We decided to take a boat rather than travel overland by bus along Cambodia's notoriously bad roads. This proved to be quite an adventure since the river was too low to carry the boat the entire distance. So our boat trip quickly became a truck-little boat-bigger boat-bus trip. Amusingly, our "ticket" pictured what appeared to be a sleek cruise liner with tinted windows, indicating only the finest ammenities (hot tubs and champaigne served in crystal flutes no doubt). When we pulled up to the actual ship, I heard a fellow traveller mutter, "Well..... It's white," pointing out the blaring inconsistency. We had to laugh.

In the end it took far longer than we anticipated (9 hours as opposed to 6), but provided a unique glimpse into the lives of the people inhabiting floating villages along the lake.

Yes, the boat captain actually sat on the bow and stuck his arm backwards through the nonexistant windshield to drive the boat.

Views of Tonle Sap's floating villages:

Siem Reap and Ankor Wat

Happy Dance!

I am proud to report that my poor, ragged, Songkran-smeared passport has run out of empty pages. What better way to celebrate the survival of a second successful Laos Airlines landing than this realization, along with the corresponding fine at the Cambodian immigration desk?

Filthy, though thoroughly relaxed from my trip through Laos, I collected my bags and prepared to meet Matt (my boyfriend from DC) outside the airport. We shared a tuk tuk to our guest house and began the long process of catching each other up on the events of the past four months. Lucky for us, we had just barely enough time to catch the sunset at the ancient ruined temple Wat Ta Phrom. Despite some threatening clouds, the sun put on a pretty good show.

The sunset temple

Soon afterward I discovered a new favorite food: Fish Amok. This mildly sweet and sour coconut fish curry dish is served in a hollowed out coconut shell with (of course) a huge bowl of rice. Delicious!

The following day I opted to take a tuk tuk rather than a bicycle to see Ankor Wat. Hardcore budget backpackers might scoff at this decision (it's just too easy, isn't it?), but I felt justified by the two reasons that guided my decision:

1. I was running short on time; and

2. I was still battling some pretty horrible consequences of food poisoning I suffered in Laos

I later came to appreciate this decision, especially in light of Matt's rough adjustment to the sweltering heat and my illness, which eventually became so debilitating that it paralyzed me totally with excruciating pain and stomach cramps. I feel no need to expound further -- if you've had food poisoning you know why; if you haven't, you don't want to.

Despite these limitations, we managed to have a fun day, full of highlights including:

• The splendid ruins of Ankor Wat

This enormous ruined palace is the best preserved example of Ankor architecture. The Wat is surrounded by a huge moat. Perhaps the most impressive aspect to me was the sheer size of the temple, especially considering that every square inch seemed to be ornately decorated with intricate mouldings and carvings.

• The ancient walled city Wat Thom

Elephants, cars and people passing through the Wat Thom Gate

This site included one of my favorite wats (the Bayon), which contained delicate stone faces carved on many surfaces.

The Bayon:

Face off

How many faces can you count in this picture? (answer: 4)

Traditional Cambodian dancers in the Bayon

• Banteay Srei
  

A small, charming temple, famous for its rosy coloration derived from pink sandstone. Located about 45 minutes outside Siem Reap (where the majority of the ruins are located), a visit to this site required a lovely, shady tuk tuk ride past rice paddies and small rural villages. Here are some pictures from the drive:

Cambodian gas station (note the hand crank pump)

• Wat Ta Phrae

This was without a doubt my favorite Ankor site, set deep in the jungle and covered with huge banyan trees. Many of the trees have actually grown into the ruins, their gigantic roots spreading across walls like frozen tentacles. I truly appreciated the juxtaposition of nature and architecture. It was almost as though the forest were reabsorbing, and thus reclaiming the stone used to create the relics of this ancient civiliaztion.

Four Thousand Islands

Settling into the small double prop plane, Barbara and I took the opportunity to pool our resources and swap guidebooks -- my rough guide for her lonely planet. Thankfully it wasn't until after our rocky takeoff that I reached the section about air travel in Laos:


"Most Western embassies still have travel advisories warning against flying Lao Airlines. For some travellers, flying with Lao Airlines demonstrates bravado, but it's really not something you want to do if you don't absolutely have to."

I tried to push the warning to the back of my mind, and managed to do so.... until the pilot began our descent. My stomach lurched as the plane seemed to drop out of the sky. We banked from left to right like a drunken junebug and rattled violently through the worst turbulence I have ever encountered. I tried to make calm conversation through it all, but my white knuckles had a death grip on the arm rests and my heart pounded violently in my chest. When the plane finally screeched to meet the runway, it seemed as if we would never stop. Barbara and I sat paralyzed by the fear that the runway would come to an end before the plane was able to slow down. To our relief, the wheels eventually halted with an abrupt, rude, finality.

Gratefully, shakily, we wobbled off the plane. The tarmac was radiating heat, prompting queasiness. Fortunately, we were able to share a mini-van taxi with four other passengers and managed to reach Si Phan Don (4,000 islands) less than three hours later. A decrepit long tail motored us out to the island Don Det, where we would spend the next four days.

Barbara and me unwinding after the plane ride on Laos Airlines

Mekong reflections

Some of the most well travelled people I've met have described this as their favorite place on Earth. I couldn't agree more. Something about the beautiful scenery, combined with the kind friendly nature of the local people and the slow pace of life make this an undeniable paradise. Accommodations are rustic -- mostly just thatched bamboo bungalows hovering over the river on stilted legs. Most bungalows have a porch, complete with hammocks to enjoy the view.

Scenes from the bike paths: waterfalls, riverside bungalows, and traditional wooden boats

There isn't a lot to do, but that is part of the draw. A simple red dirt path rings the entire island. For one dollar you can rent a bicycle and pedal across an old railroad bridge to a waterfall, stopping to enjoy drinks and snacks at little homefront cafes along the way. Or you can rent an inner tube and spend the day lazily floating along the Mekong and observing the subsistence fishing and agricultural lifestyle of the local people.

Scenes of subsistence: fishing boats, inquisitive piggies, and pouty water buffalo

One morning Barbara and I were especially ambitious. After an early breakfast of banana pancakes, we rode our bikes to the southern end of a neighboring island -- an area rumored to harbor the last 50 or so of only 100 remaining Mekong River Dolphins. Humans have pushed these animals to the brink of extinction through unsustainable fishing practices (namely gill netting) and habitat destruction. This being the dry season, lower water levels provide a better chance of spotting the dolphins. At a tiny wharf we easily found a fisherman to take us out in his boat to look for dolphins.

Looking for Mekong River Dolphins

The long tail maneuvered around rocks and rapids as we watched the many species of birds along the river. Withing fifteen minutes we found ourselves scrambling off the boat and onto a little rock island in the center of the river. We saw the first dolphin within 30 seconds. Soon after we spotted a second, and spent the following half hour watching these graceful animals fish and play around us. Occasionally we could hear the wet sound of a dolphin exhaling nearby, or catch a glimpse of a sleek bulbous head dipping below the surface (Mekong River Dolphins resemble a grey version of their cousins the Beluga whale). Barbara and I left the site feeling exhilirated and especially lucky, as these dolphins are projected to disappear altogether in the next 20 years.

A much better picture of a Mekong River dolphin than any of mine (Thanks National Geographic!)

Like so many places in Laos, Si Phan Don is devoid of electricity, with the exception of a few riverside restaurants that run gasoline generators in the evening. This lends to the place a whimsical charm --as though it were frozen in time. Walking along the labyrinth of dirt paths at dusk, I caught glimpses of families going about their activities, illuminated in the soft glow of candlelight. With the exception of a few stray motorbikes, thier way of life has remained literally unchanged for hundreds of years. I think that's what made the place so special. In the absence of electricity, television, radio, internet, and so many other connections to the modern world, life takes on a slower, simpler quality. Here it is perfectly acceptable to spend an entire afternoon doing nothing more than listening to the rain from the safety of a hammock.

Perfecting the art of relaxation

One afternoon while lazily floating down the river in inner tubes, Barbara and I pulled into a shallow inlet to watch some little boys playing on a rope swing. We noticed a round object floating along with the current and spent a good five minutes deliberating whether it was a coconut or a bald man's head. Minutes later we watched a man downstream wade out to pick up the coconut -- he had obviously been pondering the same thing. The humor in the situation was inescapable. Where else would so much attention be spent on something so simple as a floating coconut?

It was a little sad to say goodbye to my new friend and that idyllic little island. After the guesthouse owner gave me a ride in his long tail to the neighboring shore, I shouldered my pack and sloshed my way up the slippery pier, once losing my balance and coating my side in a thick layer of slimy red mud. Like an overturned turtle I struggled to get up, and trudged through the morning market, pungent with the smells of ripe fruit and rotting fish. The "local bus" turned out to be a songthaew crammed full of local islanders, various goods, and a few stray tourists. An elderly woman across from me chewed betel nut and strung together the legs of live frogs she kept in rice bags strewn all over the floor. When the truck wasn't loudly rumbling along the rough, unpaved roads, the bed echoed with the desperate croaking of disgruntled frogs.

The frog lady

By the time I arrived at the Paskke airport nearly five hours later, so much dirt had coated my face that it looked as though I had mascara running down my cheeks. I cleaned up as best I could without soap in the airport sink, and braced myself for another flight on Laos Air -- this time to Cambodia.