Beyond Our Conestoga

Photos: More Favs from Laos

leizza — Sun, 16 May 2010 12:35:00 GMT

FAQ. Got any?

leizza — Sun, 16 May 2010 08:39:00 GMT

Some questions have been common. So I post a few here.

Feel free to ask more.

What was your most favorite dish to eat and where was it?

Favorite dish. Well, while there were many good dishes, our probably most 
favorite most well rounded dish was in Southern Cambodia along the coast 
in a small town called Kep. Green Peppercorn Crab. Peppercorns grown in the 
region. Salt as well. Not grown, but farmed. Crab from the gulf of Thailand 
water right at the coast. Couldn't get much better! Green Peppercorns fried 
oh so nicely. Not spicy like the dried ones we are used to. Perfect. Crab 
shells not a pain. Tender, easy to break. We licked every last morsel off our 
fingers. Incredible!
Did you ever had a good nights sleep or did you find that difficult 
in all those strange places, strange noises, so on.
Short answer. Yes. I did have good nights sleep.
Long answer. Traveling that long you just get used to every night a new 
place with new sounds, sights, and smells. Becomes part of the routine 
to accept. You would drive yourself crazy if you didn't. Sometimes we 
would stay in the same place for a couple days though. We would always 
look at a room before committing to it. This helped a lot! There were 
some places we said 'no thanks' to after looking. We would haggle prices 
of the rooms as well. A/C? No, don't need it. So the room will be cheaper 
right? But as long as we get a fan. Oh, how far the fan helped. Is there 
hot water? Most of the time we didn't care to pay extra for the hot water, 
cold water showers became a looked forward to thing in this climate. 
Some with private baths, some not so. Some just a toilet. Sometimes 
the toilet wasn't a flush one. Just a hole in the ground you poured 
water down. No shower, just a chinese bath style (tub of water and a 
scoop).
We traveled with our own lightweight sleeping liners. So we never slept 
on the beds directly. Sheets weren't always available and most of the 
time I wasn't completely solidified in their cleanliness. We only slept 
directly on the beds in the very few times we were at a very modern 
Western style hotel. Well, modern for what became our norm. We 
always checked for bed bugs. Saw if a room had a window and if so, 
how sealed it was. Will mosquitos be getting in? Is there a mosquito 
net? Where will the ants come? Inevitably, they came. We tended to always 
have snacks with us so at night we would hang them in different areas 
to avoid the ants. How quiet? How musty was the room?
Lesson learned: if there is a mosquito net, it 's there for a 
reason...use it! Just because there's not mosquitos at night, 
doesn't mean they won't be there at dawn.
It was kind of like camping indoors. You just learn to accept certain 
things and steer away from the things that you can't accept. The times 
we would find a place that just was more comfortable (on any level), 
it was hard to leave. The hardest uneasy part for me was just how 
secure the door was. Many had no deadbolt and no chain. Just a 
simple door push lock. We brought door stops and plugged these doors 
at night. Sometimes as I laid there, trying to sleep, thoughts of rats 
or ants or break-ins would go through my head. But nothing ever drastic 
happened. I learned what was most important to really concern myself 
with. And that extends well beyond just the scope of sleeping at night!
Did you ever get sick? Food or virus?
A very popular question.
Yes. We got sick. But considering the risks taken, we did very well. 
Traveling for that long, eating EVERY meal out, in the countries we 
were in, you are bound to get sick. Our doctors prescribed us for 
about 3 bouts each of traveler's diarrhea (typically caused by not 
so sanitized food). We each only got sick once with traveler's diarehea 
though. I then got food poisoning one night. Eric also had flu like 
symptoms for a few days but cleared up without becoming 
full blown. So all in all we did really well considering.
We ate everything we wanted to. We were more cautious in the 
beginning and less so in the end. Eric's philosophy in Vietnam was 
to eat any and everything. We enjoyed all the food and never got sick 
there. All the fresh greens and fruits. The normal 'watch out for 
eating those' foods because they get washed with local water and 
not cooked before served.
We found water to not be too bad of an issue. We didn't drink 
it. But foods in relation to it didn't seem to bother our systems. 
Oh, we did drink it if it had been boiled, ei coffee and tea. Bottled 
water became our daily purchase. Exceptions were Singapore and Hong 
Kong, big cities, modern city purification. Crappy thing about buying 
bottled water was the usage of soo much plastic in 4 months 
time. I guess some travels go with purification systems. I might 
consider this in the future.
Funny thing about the bottled water though. In the beginning we 
surveyed our bottle water brand options. Some we knew, some we didn't. 
Some looked professional, some didn't. We stuck with the brands we knew. 
This quickly turned to brands we didn't know, to the not so looking 
professional bottled brands. These you looked at and weren't even sure 
wasn't just someone bottling river water at home and selling it. Labels 
said they had been "Sterilized. Ultra Violet Light Treated. Cleaned. 
Purified." Sounds trusting, right? But in Laos, those became our only 
option. And turns out, it was fine. The seals not so great, so they 
leaked a lot, bummer, but never got sick from them. So cheap to.
Probably the biggest issue with prevention is more monitoring 
the food stall itself before ordering. We mostly ate out on the 
from local hawkers. We rarely ate in restaurants. A way to keep 
costs down, but also a way to eat with the locals and the way the 
do. Does it have a line of people? If yes, then they are going 
through product faster, let alone must be good. Do you see any 
red flags in their sanitation while watching? These were normally 
obvious within just a few minutes. Something we had been warned 
about and yet didn't seem to be able to avoid was eating where the 
money is handled seperately from the person cooking your food. 
We rarely saw this. These were family run operations with sometimes 
only one person working. They all cooked and they all took money.
Imagine this. You find a stand you want to eat at. You watch the 
cooking. You place your order. He/She continues cooking, maybe 
starting on your order. You agree on a price. As you get your money 
ready, the cook starts to handle raw meat. Then grabs your plate/bowl. 
He/she takes your money, finishes up your finished dish, topping off 
the meal with some raw products (basil, mint, etc.) This whole time, 
never wiping and/or washing his/her hands. Yummmm. Want your change?
This scenario made even worse in the markets. Now here they might not 
be preparing cooked meals, but instead just selling the produce and 
meats. One woman quit literally hacks up beef, chicken, fish, pork, etc. 
adjacent to the stall selling fresh greens. Wonder where all the splatters 
going? They aren't called wet markets for nothing. And those buying 
the meat. Well, let's just say money is transacted and placed in pockets 
with some bloody hands. Cross contamination galore.
Hungry?
Once, I didn't drink my fresh squeezed juice because of the ants 
floating in it. The extra protein wouldn't of hurt me really. I just 
couldn't do it. I didn't ever want to offend anyone though by sending 
something back. We smiled and paid. Oh, I take that back. Once we sent 
a fish dish back, but only because it was too raw. We just wanted it 
cooked more. Dodged a bullet that time I think. Although it was quit
difficult communicating what is was we were needing done.
Which culture, village or townspeople seemed to be the most joyous,
most content and happy with life?
In general, the more happy people were those in the less modernized 
areas. Living the old school way if you will. Less modern conveniences 
 stress and worry about and less need to desire those items. No TV. No 
barrage of images telling you what you 'should' look like to keep up 
with the Jones's. They kept their family fed and a roof over their heads. 
That's all they needed.This is all by observations of course. 
Who knows what was really going through their minds? What desires and 
needs they really had versus what got protrayed. I know as travelers, 
they viewed us as having lots of money. The fact that anyone had not 
only enough money, but enough time to travel was unphathonmable to them. 
In most of the countries we traveled through, time off just didn't exist. 
Work was 7 days a week. Who can afford a day off? Maybe 2 days off a month. 
And a day? 12 hours work probably. Not to mention if it was a family business.
Maybe they seemed most happy because they were most needing the money and
therefore most happy to have us spending our money with them. Many of 
this may have been driven by Communism political structure. This trip opened
my eyes to how parts of Communism in action really works. I am not so turned 
off by it now. What would you prefer? A class system that exists here, or a 
system where the money gets spread more evenly, even though that might mean 
you are poorer? When everyone is in a 'low tier,' you are all equal and there 
is less keeping up to be had.Now this doesn't mean that there wasn't goal 
making and strides to move forward in civilization. Whole communities moved 
forward, not just individuals. It is the community that is most important. 
Slaughter a buffalo? Everyone gets a piece. Plus, without refrigeration, 
this system works doublely as well.
So I think I derailed a bit from the original question. But anyways. 
We found this most common in Laos. Really, everyone their seemed content 
and happy. Tired and wore out, but they seemed happy to me. Or, 
well, at least, we were most happy there. Vietnam, also very Communist, 
not so much of the happiness though. Somehow, people here were living 
under Communism with the modern struggle to be better than thy neighbor. 
I don't understand it. I hope I can hold onto some of the values I learned 
on our trip and carry them forward in my own life and not get caught 
back up in the go-go-go of life here. Why are we this way? We are missing 
all the real GOOD stuff. For me, the door has just been cracked and now I 
begin my push to really open the door and learn to really listen to my instincts.
I should put in a clause: These statements are my own observations 
of communities in general. Just like stereotyping, this doesn't mean 
that there aren't exceptions.
Philosophical enough?

Reality of the Return

leizza — Sun, 16 May 2010 05:30:00 GMT

Today marks a final chapter in our trip. Today is the day our last anti-malarial pills are taken, 4 weeks after leaving an at risk area. Two weeks, 4 days since returning back home. Knowing there is no more of those nasty little pills is wonderful and yet it is another reminder, pulling me back to reality, that yes, we are back in the States. The return home has been abrupt and not what I was anticipating. I guess I didn't really know what to anticipate though. Only assumptions that life will go back to the way it was. But after a trip like we have had, that is exactly what I don't want.

Although I had moments of looking forward to re-establishing our home and life in Portland. To having one place to return to every night. I am now struggling to make home--home. I have been unable to make myself unpack our boxes. I still pull clothes out of bags on the floor. Do I know what is in one box over another? Do I really care? Do I need what's in the box? We returned to the same apartment we left, having subleased it furnished while we were away, so it is perfectly ok to live in daily. All our personal items packed away in storage. We each lived out of one bag for 4 months. And while, yes, it is nice to not be wearing one of two/three outfits everyday, I struggle with ambition to settle back in.

I have only just now washed some items from the trip, covered in dirt. Probably mostly still left from the transportation methods in Laos. I feel it was a release as the grit was washed away. Am I that sad to have returned that I hate to wash away grim? Oh, but I can be joyful in knowing that I can now wear some of the clothes that were bought overseas.

After 4 months of people watching, glimpses into different cultures, I can only return home with the same habits of just watching and soaking it all in. Funny the things you notice about your own culture when you've been removed for a set amount of time. And returning to Portland, a unique sub-culture in itself, the transition is even more odd. I am surprised at myself. I am surprised at not being excited about things I thought I would be. I am shocked at what does spark my intrigue. I am scared also. I fear that 4 months was enough time to realize what you want to change, and yet maybe not enough time to instill new habits for those changes. Everything from grand scale character building, to simple things as food and what colors I like.

I can walk in our neighborhood and cars actually stop for pedestrians in crosswalks, and sometimes not even at those. Traffic laws are obeyed. Strangers smile and say hello in a language I understand. Better yet, I understand the conversations going on around me. I got used to it all just being a constant hum. While in the Asian market stocking up on some of our old and new staples, I hear a foreign language being used in a conversation down the aisle. I am confused. It isn't English, and yet, why am I understanding some of it, and why does it sound so familiar? I chuckle as it hits me. Spanish. Oh yeah, that language and culture. One I have been SO far removed from and yet also with all it's nuances of uniqueness just the same. Somewhere on our trip, I don't remember the particularities right now, a Mexican restaurant we walked by boasted being the only Mexican in all of the country. Can it be that good then, you have to ask yourself?

I remember my impression of life in the city here in the US was deeply rooted in everyone living their own lives, separately from everyone else. Each like little beavers. Going about their missions without so much of a regard for their neighbor. But community is so important. Where has this value gone? Our trip re-instilled some of this in me. I am shocked when I walk here of the that fact there really are some people out there willing to reach out. People do say hi on the street here. Was this happening before and I just didn't hear/see it? I guess sometimes, you do really get what you give. Why be disappointed in the way things are when you can set a better standard that others try to rise too (or lower, whatever the circumstance). I should let more people in.

In Laos, so many people, mostly kids, but either way, the impression was made, so many people said hello in the local language. Such a happy word too, Sabadee. The sound brought such joy to our day and what joy I think it brought in return when we responded the sentiment. I should say hello more at home.

Sitting at a red light in my truck, coming home from work (yes, I am back at work--that's a whole grander scale of 'back to reality'), a public bus making a right turn from the cross street to the left of me. I am in a daze, like most of the time lately, watching the driver make his turn. Thinking about who knows what, and I noticed the driver waving and smiling--big. Am I doing something wrong? Red light still, check. No peds in the way, check. Correct lane, check. Right way down a one way street, check. Quick look in the rearview mirror, check. Am I too far forward for the bus to make it's turn? No. Do I know him? No. I look again, all a matter of seconds. Still waving and gleaming. I flash a smile in return. His smile even bigger. Huh, I thought. A smile for a smile. Such a simple joy. Did I look that horrible day dreaming of places so far away that used to be so close not so long ago? I should smile more.

Portlanders out enjoying the first signs of spring, mostly the sun. Even though I knew one of the big perks of traveling in the winter is that we missed out on the Portland winter gloom, I am amazed at how much Portlanders yearn for that sun. A Saturday out in a park, everyone soaking in the sun while I try to catch my breath from everything coming so fast now. Everything is a matter of perspective. Portland's first 70º days, everyone is out in sundresses, shorts, tank tops, and here I am in my jeans and sweatshirt. Funny. Ok, I eventually strip down to my t-shirt. It warms up a bit when you just soak it in.

Even the fact of people soaking in sun is so unique. In Asia, the sun was avoided like a black plaque. 90º out and women would still be covered head to toe. Got to protect that precious skin. Here, 70º and women are out in bathing suits getting a jump start on their summer tans. Now I admit, I do love that sun. Not so much what it does to the skin, but I do enjoy the warmth and the light. Having lived downtown for two years now, the sun has come to represent a freedom in a sense. When I am in it, I am not in the shadows of a building or truck. I've got a direct line of sight to the sky.

The return to the supermarket was a saddening thing. Especially for Eric. You can shop the organic sections. You can go to the local farmer's markets, but it will never be the same. The broad range of ingredient selection and the remarkable freshness at that, just doesn't exist here. Not even mentioning cost. Who says fresh and local has to be more expensive? I guess we should be happy we live (for now at least) in a part of the US where local is supported, allowing more options to exist, comparetively. And to live where such fertile land and rains bring a diversity in the fresh produce offered.

I feel I am coming down from a 4 month high way too quickly. I am not finding the time for reflection I now realize I need. I feel I am being yanked back, made to simulate into the day to day. And it leaves me soo tired, leaving no energy for myself. Choosing to return to work 6 days after returning from our trip afforded us more time on the road, but not enough time to level my head. I can fill my role here as I knew it before we left just fine. The matter at hand? Is that a role I really want to fulfill? But I guess, when are we ever ready to return? The big question I ask myself now is, why do we have to return? Why do we have to simulate? What part of me is making me feel like we should? It's easy. It works. But does it truly bring happiness? And is it truly what I want? What do I want? What do I want out of life and how will I get it? An answer I am not going to find here in the day to day I am afraid.

Within a week of returning, I found myself volunteering at a benefit event. Details of it don't really matter. But as it was a benefit, this means the people invited, well, let's just say it was an older crowd that wasn't strapped for cash. I was just happy to be there, happy for what I got out of the deal of volunteering, never mind the company per say. Then, I found myself in the midst of a conversation between the special guest, a big wig from DC and some attendees.

The attendees, so desperate for attention, and better yet recognition from the special guest, were acting so strange to me. The things they were saying, the elementary 'philosophical' insights of beauty, were absurd. Oh, let's not forget the subtle drops of the money in their pockets and how deep they were rooted in the 'creation' of Portland. The off handed jokes and chuckles from them. They never seemed to notice just how courteous the special guest was being, and nothing more. How he excepted their attempts at a friendly conversation, but somehow was never truly engaged. Didn't notice his steps backwards that they only pursued. I half wanted to gag and half laugh in their faces. I am half their age, and how so much richer I seem to be, when money isn't what you use to quantify. Who cares who this guy is? We should value ourselves, by ourselves, up against our own personal goals and ambitions, not by who somebody else. That's not to say of course, that every guest at this event was so far up their own ass. Some are lucky to have been graced with financial means and know how to maintain their social sanity.

We live in a culture of money and how can Eric and I step away from that? How can we insure our security of basic necessities, without being bogged down by the day to day of earning money to make that happen? I know that finding a right balance is an elemental part, for the both of us, and now step two is finding it. Right now, until we find it, I can only hold onto knowing how lucky we are to have experienced what we have together and how lucky we should feel to know that we have the luxury of tackling these questions. To know that we have them and to know that we want to go find answers is valuable in itself. A more simple way of life is in order I think, insights definitely gained from this trip. What anybody else thinks is irrelevant. I am who I am. We are who we are. Relish in it, just relish in it.

A big change is around the corner, if only I knew how long until we get there.

Photos: Just a few favs. Mostly Laos.

leizza — Mon, 10 May 2010 10:05:00 GMT

Some because of the shot and some because of the memory they evoke. More to come.

Photos: Hong Kong.

leizza — Mon, 10 May 2010 09:39:00 GMT

Hong Kong, City of Contrasts

leizza — Mon, 10 May 2010 08:18:00 GMT

Hong Kong. What an impressive city! So grand and proud of it at that. So metropolitan and what a huge port! Our 20 minute train ride from the airport to the city led us by what I guess is one of many ports. This thing was gigantic. Both our jaws dropped. Hard to believe a port could really be that big. All the storage bins, thousands and thousands. My mind tried to phathom what all could be in them. Of course, there was no way of knowing. But it was from this first glimpse into Hong Kong that we knew we weren't in Vietnam anymore. Welcome back to the modern world (if Singapore hadn't hit home yet).

Being in Hong Kong was in a way a buffer from the reality check of getting back home to Portland. Imagine just how all these things were now novel to us after 3.5 months in strange lands. Public transportation you could rely on. Transportation that had a set price and we didn't pay more cause we were tourists. Drinking fountains! Yep, that's right. Who would of thought I would be happy to see drinking fountains. Free (drinkable) public water. How nice. And yet, after second guessing even brushing my teeth in running water for so long, I was still hesitant for some reason here. Oh, and free public restrooms, with toilet paper mind you (still holding out for the good stuff). Hong Kong was riddled with public restrooms. Quit nice, even on US standards. I guess the city was that proactive about trying to keep their streets clean. They understood the possible alternatives. And that is the key thing about Hong Kong.

It may be a huge business hub with a skyline you can stare for hours at dreaming of big city, international living. But it is a city with a very deep cultural history that it hasn't said goodbye to. Walk down a street lined with stores for PRADA, LOUIS VUITON, FENDI, etc., go around the corner, and there is an alley with still a few old buildings run by locals still holding onto the way of life that has sustained their family for centuries. With a few modern acceptances of course. Some parts of Hong Kong, while the historical buildings may be gone, the family business lives on in a stall out on the street. Stamp making, clothes, hawkers, antique dealers.

But man, the masses of people. THe high rises were unbelievable. And to think, that it is all living spaces. Our guesthouse while in Hong Kong is a perfect example of all these phenomenas. We stayed in a mansion. But I should tell you, this is not the type of mansion you probably are thinking. Chunking Mansion. Nestled on the main drag in the heart of the Kowloon District. A predominant shopping district with malls and very high end boutiques. Our place, on the 8th floor of a high rise. The whole entire high rise was all guesthouses! That's right. Individual flats that had long been converted. Cheap wooden walls got put up making a 2-3 BDR place a 10 BDR guesthouse. Tiny, tiny hallways. We actually somehow managed a corner room with a private toilet! Our window overlooked one of the new modern malls. Made for a good light show at night.

Just walking up to this place was like entering a different world though. Pass a very nice (huge) park. One block down you pass high end diamond dealers and clothing shops. And then you come to our place. The demographic changes in a flash. What could we expect I guess in keeping with our budget. We were used to it at this point. It's just such a huge contrast to the neighborhood. Back to the description...Men out on the street hustling for all different things, rolexes, tailoring, handbags, "stay at my place. stay at my place. good price. good price. You have reservation?" Mostly Indian men at that. Good thing for us, it meant there had to be good Indian food around.

Actually, a large variety of ethnicities in the building. I think the biggest range of a melting pot I've ever had the privelage of being around. All the accents and languages being thrown around. One man I say holding a envelope addressed from the immigration bureau addressed to the refugee division. Got me to thinking that with everyone here, very few were white and very very few were probably there under the same pretenses we were. Walking into this place, while safe, just had a very ghetto feel compared to two blocks down the street. Amazing.

Our nightly return home meant waiting in line for the one elevator that went to our floor. The building was so huge, it was subdivided into 6 sections (that I know of). Each had their own elevator shaft. At each of these sections were two elevators. One stopped on the even numbered floors and one on the odd. Very thorough actually considering the mass numbers of people coming and going from this place. Leaving everyday we took the stairs. But even this was an adventure as the staircase didn't go straight down. On two separate flights you had to walk down a hall, through room into another stairwell. The stairs, only plopping you out on the alley with loads of trash and people sleeping. I sure many other things I turned a blind eye to as well. After 8 days of coming and going from this place, we never found a stairwell that took us to the main floor. I don't think it existed. The whole place was one big fire code hazard. I am positive of it! From the lack of free flowing traffic to the self additions put in by each residential unit.

On the main floor, there were businesses of all accords. Internet cafes, indian restaurants, money exchangers (hoards of them), cell phone shops, clothing shops, shoe shops, CD/DVD, dried goods, luggage, general stores. These were the types of stores though you had to rummage your way through and brush off any dust to read a label (I may exaggerate a little). Funny thing though. We found the money exchangers here to give the best rate in town. No exaggeration there!

Oh, I am sure the original owners don't live there mind you. All hired help at this point. Our host, Lisa, an easy name to remember, was super kind, but paid help. I am not sure if she ever left the place. She lived in a room about the size of a closet. A twin size bed with a TV. Her rice maker was out in the hall, along with a fridge. I am not sure where she used the restroom?

She had to make a phone call when we tried haggling a price since we were planning on staying a while. SHe obviously was not authorized to make such decisions. But hey. When we asked if we could pay in US dollars (leftover from Cambodia still) all she had to do was say, 'let me check the exchange rate downstairs first.' Funny thing was, she showed us two rooms. One with two twins and private toilet with shower, TV. The second, cheaper than the first with also two beds, but one a twin and one 1/2 of a twin (do those even exist?), private toilet as well, just you had to stand on the toilet to use the shower, also TV. Eric asked, "is that even a bed?" He wasn't concerned about the bathroom that I was concerned of. And ironic thing was that I could of fit in the bathroom on top of the toilet. I am not so sure his height would of allowed him to. There were no rooms with one bed.

After negotiating a rate for staying a week, we were then confused on the room we were negotiating. Obviously we had a different room in mind than what she thought. It was cleared up by her saying, "ok. price ok. you choose room." We ask "Same price for either room now?" Yep. Ok. We'll take the larger. We got our room for cheaper than what the original price of the small room was.

Our time in Hong Kong consisted of daily get aways to various neighborhoods. Just checking out the big city sites. One full day spent negotiating our travel and stay in Macau. Hotels became a problem there as the airport volcano mass shutdown had caused hotels to kind of fill up. Figures, the last two days of our trip and we had to hustle for a reservation. The only other time we had made a reservation was in Singapore. Fitting though, as it ended up us paying for the most expensive room of our entire trip right at the end. Paying standard US rate. Yikes!! But hey, we got a nice room. One big bed. Clean, white sheets. Fluffy pillows. Hot shower that was separate from the room itself. We slept well here.

Getting our reservation was a drag. First, all the internet cafes we went to were full. Once we finally found one, when we had to return the following day, we only discovered it didn't exist anymore. Hummm. We aren't in Vietnam anymore, right? Our reservation got dropped three times (a process that took three days of trying, very frustrating to say the least). Never book through the Macau tourism office. Seriously! They need to get with the modern times. We eventually booked through another company and it went smooth as butter. Macau worth it though. Amazing to find so many casinos. But we got to see the Macau Cirque du Soleil show ZAIA. Great way to wrap up our trip.

Sites in Hong Kong: The Peak, Stanley Market, Temple St. Market, Kowloon District, Times Square, Art Museum, History Museum, Science Museum, Astronomy Museum, 8 o'clock nightly skyline light show, Hong Kong Arts Centre, various neighborhood and park walks.

Food in Hong Kong: Dim Sum---ahhhhh! Dumplings----in love! Noodles, can't get enough. Pastry, yum pastry. Tofu. Sushi (cheap yummy sushi). Oh, and do I need to mention Chinese? Our joke in thinking about dinner each day, "Well, I feel like Chinese."

Oh, one last thing. Our last minute rush of shopping. So our budget got a bit pushed at the end with accomodations, so why not stretch a little more right? You may only be here once? PLus, it's the end of our trip, so no more having to worry about lugging around heavy over packed luggage. We spent a day rounding up various kitchen equipment for Eric, things like Ceramic fermenting jars, heavy cleavers, bamboo steamers. You know, all that fun heavy, big bulky items! I was patient and helpful. I really was. And so was he when we found a wonderful tea shop. I ended up buying probably way too much CHinese tea to bring home. But I was like a kid in a candy store. Oh so yummy. At least I have enough I don't have to treasure it like I can't drink it now that we are home. It would go stale if I did that.

Our final treat to ourselves. Buying "Tea Cakes" of our wedding year. So we learned that like many things we like, tea (the right kind of tea) can actually be aged. Throw words like aging and fermenting our their and you get Eric's juices flowing any day (in relation to food/drinks that is). So like tea blocks. We have tea shapped in the form of a frisbee from 2007. We were instructed about how to properly store it and make and serve it. The owner encouraged us to use it as an anniversary item. She said 1 cake would last 50 years. Break off a little each year and see how the fermenting changes and enhances the tea. They had cakes over a century old in the store. They are treasured items just as old wine is back home. And priced accordingly as well. We bought two. One to break up through the years and one to keep whole for nostalgia sake.

Photos: Vietnam Stories

leizza — Sat, 1 May 2010 16:22:00 GMT

A promised story of bus travel.

leizza — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 19:09:00 GMT

So I thought I was going to move on from describing our Vietnam experiences, until I remembered an earlier promise. In the posting entitled, "Vietnam Blues, or Excitement..." I promised a story from our bus travel from Phu Quoc on to Con Tom. I can't break that promise, and nor would I want to. It's a good story. And on actuality, I have a lot of catching up on stories that I do want to share, they just won't be in chronological order. As we look over our photos, I am reminded of so much, oh so much. Years it will be of stories unfolding I believe.

Alright, so first why didn't we tell the story earlier? Well, in a paranoia sort of way (probably utterly pointless) we weren't sure how much buzz words could be tracked by the Vietnamese Communist government. We didn't exactly want to report some sightings of illegal activity and have to deal with it while we were still in the country. And after hearing the realm of this story, you might agree with me, that the government was probably turning a blind eye and our fears were totally unfounded.

Let me catch you back up to speed. A day of travel that was flustered with strange not so planned transportation. We had caught the last few available (cancelled) tickets off the island of Phu Quoc to any city to just get us off. Through the local bus station, caught a local bus to Chau Doc, thinking we would go to that town's bus station to hopefully catch another bus onto Can Tho that same day. We knew there was a chance that we wouldn't make the connection, knowing how many stops these local buses make and timely arrivals seem impossible.

After a fun ride on a typical crammed full bus, the driver pulled over at an intersection (not a bus station mind you). We were rushed off the bus very quickly. Practically pushed with other men using our bags in their hands as bait to get us onto another bus. Apparently, this, was our connection. The second bus was testy and anxious to pull away. How kind of them we thought. Some communication had happened (via cell phone, who ever knows what they are saying and to whom--do we know the language?). The second bus was waiting for us to arrive and now that they are, they must be behind schedule, because they are SO anxious to get going. We make sure they know where we want to go. Affirm in our minds, as much as that is possible, that we are on the correct bus. We paid our fare (a price inline with our expectations) to the 'money' lady on the bus (not the driver). And away we went, very fast.

Then the ride got strange.

The speediness seemed pointless. The driver pulled literally around the block to only stop again at what seemed a planned stop. Do those exist here? A woman got on, along with some cargo. The new passenger was quit a sight. Small Vietnamese woman, with very baggy clothing that disguised some strange rectangular objects underneath. She had some trouble making it on the bus, down the aisle and into her seat. Looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, only cubular and with a tiny head. Her face all serious. Not giving us the up and down like most other locals do, figuring out why in the world we are on the bus. She paid her fare.

Eric and I eyed each other. What is going on? Is this some strange medical problem causing her to protect herself? But why be on this crammed bus then? Kind of looks like there might be thick pads underneath. Is medical care that bad here? Can she not get proper attire? Does she have some strange paranoia? I mean, one glance and you can tell, this is not normal.

Is she hiding something? Surely not. It is SO obvious that there is something underneath the clothing. I mean, her cheek fat doesn't match the obesity below the neckline. And how far up do your arms naturally lay without something holding them up? They don't stick out like that, like Randy's arms do in the Christmas Story. You know, Ralphie's brother in the winter suit. And seriously. Who are you kidding? What SE Asian is overweight? This is oh so comical, but obviously not for her. I repeat, she is dead serious.

The bus continues.

It stops again within a block. More suspicious passengers get on. Same story. More cargo. Lot of conversation going on. A familiar sort of chat. Like the 'money lady' knows them.

The bus continues again.

More stops. This time cargo at each one. Black garbage bags. The 'bag man' part of the 3-tier bus operation helps load it within the bus. Not up top or crammed in back like most cargo does. We don't pay as much attention. Every bus always ends up filled to the brim with people and or cargo. So this part isn't as strange. But then the bus goes without stops. And the driver is not flying this time. Just the opposite. Going quit slow. Very unusual for any driver of a vehicle we've been on all throughout SE Asia up until this point. The buses rule the road. Why in the world is he going so slow?

Then the answer is revealed.

Very hastily, the 'large' passengers help unpack the black bags of cargo. Inside? Cartons and cartons and cartons of cigarettes. Connections starting to go off in the brain. Why are they unloading them?

To restash of course.

The 'money lady' sits down, hikes up her leg, pulls up her baggy pant legs to reveal a massive amount of rubber bands. The cartons are handed up the aisle to her one by one as she loads up her leg. Strapping them on with the rubberbands, pre-banded in preparation.

In a few cartons go, and rotate around the leg. Strap a few more, and rotate. Again and again. Start a new layer. And another. She must of fit about 30-40 cartons per leg before pulling the pant leg down over. A braided lot of cartons went around her waist too, as well as the 'bag man.' At least they didn't load them on the arms like the ridiculous looking woman did beside us.

Our bus route is one running directly south from the Cambodian border. This bus must of started the route there. As soon as all cartons are 'hidden' the driver finally picks up speed. This time super fast. Any more stops for passengers is a nuance at this point. He's got time to make up. They are running a bus of course! Eric looks to me. 'Well, at least we'll probably get to Can Tho in a timely manner now.'

The driver, bag man and money lady are all in on this together. Along with most of the passengers. One more well dressed Vietnamese couple obviously not in on this charade look back at us with similar expressions that must of been on our faces. I daringly snap a photo of the scene. But just one. Not going to risk them seeing me trying to get the best photo.

The bus ride continues as we would of originally expected. We just laugh at each other throughout the route. What is the luck? Or how often does this happen? Is it really done this poorly? Just imagine if smuggling into the US were that easy. Ha!

As night approaches, we start arriving into the outskirts of Can Tho. The 'money lady' confirms that we are going to the bus station. This is oddly pleasant. How many times have we been reaffirmed that we are being taken to the right place anytime on this whole 2.5 month trip so far?

None.

And this makes it even more comical. Smuggling, but still got to make sure the 'cover' job is completed correctly.

She is all smiles.

Stops are made as each of the 'passengers' are let off in various, separate locations. They seemed to have timed this for night fall quit well. One 'team member' gets off to an awaiting moto. She heaves her leg over the back and manages to get on before being whisked off.

When the original female 'passenger' and most conspicuous one at that gets off, Eric and I can't help but chuckle. Watching her walk brings me to tears even now. She waddles off to an awaiting vehicle. We catch a man pissing on a truck tire of the semi parked next to the truck she is heading to. He even takes a double take as she waddled by.

We are taken directly to the bus station.

Made sure we have our luggage.

Asked where we want to go.

Made sure we get handed off to a fair moto-taxi driver.

And slapped on the back with smiles on the faces of all parties involved as we walk off.

We got to where we needed to go, in a timely manner and paid a fair price!

I can't believe it.

Goodbye Vietnam.

leizza — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 10:00:00 GMT

Our last few days in Hanoi before departing Vietnam were enjoyable amazingly enough. I believe this is because we shopped! Knowing this was near the end of our trip and not having to lug around heavy bags for much longer, we stocked up on a few things. Plus, Vietnam is so cheap, who wouldn't? Knowing fruit would not only not last, but also not make it through customs, we stocked up on some of the more unique dried fruits. There are whole stores dedicated to dried fruit in Vietnam. The selection of fruit is quit large as well. In these last few days, we also found some great little food stands that some how evaded us the first few days we were here.

Our first night upon returning from Halong Bay, we met our new friends from the tour all for diner. We wondered around town until stumbling upon an incredible local bar/food joint. Tables, people, food and beer spilling out onto the streets, we wondered into this corner place. The employees eyeing us I am sure wondering what in the world these tourists are doing here. But as soon as we took our seats and starting ordering rounds of Fresh Beer, the workers starting smiling, realizing, that yes, we did fit in. Eel and banana curry, fried frog legs, grilled rabbit, chicken, rice and oh let's not forget the fish sauce I have learned to love. Along with our beer, the meal for the six of us didn't top $22 US I think. Amazing!

So any restaurant, especially bar where you've been drinking, you'll need to find your way to the restroom right? Let me tell you about this bathroom. You wonder through the dishpit to find a storage room on the left and a hallway on the right with a ditch running along it. There is a sink at the junction. You turn around looking. Where is it? The workers in the dishpit keep pointing and pointing. You then realize that you are looking at it. And actually the male and female bathroom. The ditch being the male and the storage unit the womans. How in the world you would know? I have no clue. The storage room was filled to the brim with kegs. There was a trash can and a hole in the corner of the floor. Literally more like a drain hole with no drain. I guess if you got thirsty... Talk about one sure way to not make you NOT have to go to the bathroom anymore. But rest assured, that yes, you are looking at the right place as you see others come and go doing their business. You remind yourself why you came here and that the food was worth it. The food was worth it. The food was worth it. Do I want to think about the conditions of the kitchen? No. Not really. The food was worth it. Besides, there is a dishpit. I see some sense of sanitation going on. The food was worth it. I think only one person in our party actually opted to not hold it in.

Eric and I actually returned here as our last meal in Vietnam before flying out. We made our bathroom stop before going.

My love of the fresh tofu in Vietnam has greatly expanded my tofu horizons. I wish I had discovered it sooner. Maybe it could of given me a bit of solace in the comfort food kind of way while we were here. So I ate the last meals full of tofu. One meal being a little challenge as the stall was so busy, there was a system to it all to keep it organized and flowing, but I couldn't figure it out at first and couldn't get them to give me food. I had to return a second day for a second attempt. This time being successful. Eric enjoyed one of his last meals of Pork and Rice down the alley while I had the last ever so simple but now one of my favorites meal of fresh fried fresh tofu, fresh bun rice noodles and fish sauce and chilies. Yum. Yep. Eric is happy. His wife now loves fish sauce.

One last cheap massage. Opted for the Thai one this time. Yes, Thai, even though in Vietnam. The Vietnamese don't have their own style of massage like the Sweds, Thais or Laotians. I splurged for the fancy spa and not the corner joints. 1 and 1/2 hour Thai massage and a leg waxing for about $27 US. I hadn't bothered shaving the whole trip. Just decided to not waste my time. A waxing was due as we approached homeward travel. : )

In ordering my Thai massage the owner was very hesitant, 'Very strong?' 'Very strong?' alluding to the 'can you handle phrases from Malaysia.' It's ok I tell her. Again she repeats 'Very strong.' With all the walking, I am ready. Everyday. We Walk and Walk. We walk to bfast, walk to lunch, walk to diner, walk to the museums, walk to this neighborhood and that neighborhood. To this and that historic sight. On our feet. Maybe even eating on our feet. Or if sitting while eating, hunched on the tiny plastic stools over the tiny plastic tables commonplace at the local street stalls we eat at. Walk or no walk, with all the stress of Vietnam, I am ready, give me the 'strong, very strong' Thai massage. Funny part was, the masseur could of pressed so much harder. I was tense!

While I knew Vietnam had brought me down, I didn't think I really knew how much until we landed in Singapore. Walking off the plane somehow I felt like walking on air. I was elated with joy. Not only were we away from Vietnam, but were back in a city we knew. The first time in the last few months. We weren't strived with pressure of figuring out where we were going to go, where to sleep, where to eat and how to get there. We had our one day layover in Singapore on route to Hong Kong well planned out. We knew exactly what and where we wanted to eat. We had reserved our room. We knew what MRT stop to get off on. Our planned time did get cut short though. Prior to our take off, while we taxied on the runway in Hanoi, Vietnam, the pilot postponed our takeoff. We were told another plane was making an emergency landing. Huh. Never had that happen before. In hind sight, after learning soon thereafter of all the planes diverted from Iceland's Volcano Ash, maybe this was related. We learned that actually our flight coincided with the first closings of air space. Luckily all our flights then, a day later and then our final flight home 9 days later all were unaffected. The airspace we were traveling would of been probably the last to get closed if the ash continued to spread. Probably the whole earth in ash sky would have to happen. We did run into people though in the ensuing days who weren't in Singapore or Hong Kong by choice. One couple stuck for 9 days. Ouch!

Our brief revisit to Singapore afforded us a visit with our friend over a meal of Shark's Head. Eric's research had found a food court stall who served apparently a famous version. Our friend, having lived in Singapore for years had never had Shark's Head, and didn't even know this place existed! Eric and his love of food research. I am so lucky to reap the benefits simultaneously. Shark's head wasn't on the menu. Hummm. But this is the right place. The front counter woman was questioned. With an 'ahhhhh' expression, she waved over what I presumed to be her husband and cook. 'Shark's Head?' we ask. A big smile thus ensued on our cook's face and a glimmer in his eyes. These guys knew to come here. After ordering a medium sized head and some sides we were committed. Once it came, there was so much pointing, photos and discussion from the four of us over the dish, the cook came back out to answer questions he obviously saw that we had. After clarifying what parts were what, everything was still NOT clear to me. Everyone else seemed to get it. I just don't understand how a bone and head that big could produce such little meat. And it's not meat at all. It's all cartilage. Kind of like eating a very well stewed dumpling in texture. But very clean and mild in flavor. Could almost just squish it with your tongue. When the plates were empty and curiosities fulfilled we learned just how lucky we were. This was the last week this guy was going to be open! He was moving shop to way out of town. Rent just too high, so much so that I guess Bourdain's press still wasn't enough. I wish him luck.

Halong Bay

leizza — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 20:33:00 GMT

Ok. So, the cruise on Halong Bay. I want to get some information out there for anyone that may be reading this (as I did of others), planning for their own trip to Vietnam and specifically Halong Bay. 2 vital most important things/steps: book through a trusting company YOU KNOW is the right company (see below) and splurge for the 3 day 2 night (if not more). Oh so worth it. Don't waste your money or time going for just 2 days and 1 night and those of you even playing with the idea of only going for a 1 day tour...forget it! It's too pretty of a place to not stay longer and so much time wasted just getting there and back. If you can't afford the time to stay longer, well, sucks to be you and either change your travel itinerary to be able to stay longer or just flat out choose to go somewhere else.

Halong Bay. NorthEastern Vietnam Bay is a World Heritage Area. There is a local push there to get the area designated as one of the 'new' 7 Natural Wonders. Although you can feasibly get there on your own and get your own ferry travel to an island. We booked a tour from Hanoi and were very happy with this decision. 4 hour ride to the ferry port to arrive to a swindle of people. And oh so many boats. Where is the water, the harbor is nothing but boats? Even here, knowing we didn't have to fight this to find out own way was a relief, even though we still had in the back of our mind, 'Did we book the right tour?'

You see, in Vietnam, I don't believe there are any laws about copyright, or at least they are not enforced. If a business/brand is successful, plan on finding many, I mean hundreds+ of copycats all claiming to be genuine. And honestly, a lot of the time, you can't tell the difference until it's too late. You've spent your money and your one chance. I admire those of you that can afford the time or money to not even have to fight to find the real thing! But oh the treasures the rest of us can find along the way. Ok, back to Halong Bay...so, yes, successful tour companies are copied. Copied to the max, but only until you book and pay. They set up shop, rent a building, put up signage, have printed material, show you fancy pictures of the boat you will stay on, the food you will eat. But beware...this is not what you will receive. The advice given us holds true, if the price is too good to be true, than yes, it is too good and you should walk away. Once you've paid and gotten to the boat, it might not be what you booked. The way around this, KNOW who you are booking through. We booked SINH Cafe and it was great. But know this. There are only 2 real offices in Hanoi. Every block though in the Old quarter has about 5-6 SINH Cafe offices. Really? Do you think a company would really do this? No. THESE ARE FAKE!!!! How do you know you are at the right one? Get the correct address. And don't trust any locals to tell you the truth on that. Use a trusted guidebook, or internet (can you trust that?). We booked at:

This is a real office (as of April, 2010): 40 Luong Ngoc Quyen St., Hanoi

CHeck those addresses closely!!!! Copycats will be right next door and right across the street! Oh, also check spelling, of any company...very c l o s e l y. Anyone traveling in Vietnam for any length I would hedge bets that you will get to know SINH quit well. They have a new logo, trying to distinguish from the copycats. I am curious to see how long that lasts.

So our tour? 3 days/2 nights. The second day worth it for real time to relax on the bay. Otherwise, the time is spent getting to and from. Once being ferried out to our 'correct' boat, we ate lunch as the chinese junk boat, the Margarette (spelling?) went into the bay. Just about finished eating, we arrived at our first outing to 'Surprise Cave.' Also known as Amazing Cave and SunSot Cave. This cave was gorgeous! Huge and really amazing formations. This tour, like any other guided tour we have taken in SE Asia (and in America for that matter), had their rather amusing names for various formations. Why people must name formations in relation to what they evoke in the mind, as opposed to marveling in the actual beauty and natural process in creating the formation, I don't understand. Some are interesting of course in terms of the Asian naming convention. Instead of drapery, these bacon strip formations were called 'dragon tails'. Did I mention in an earlier post about another cave, the guide calling rimstone dams, 'mini rice paddies.' It's all about frame of reference. But hey, in this cave they have penguins! That's right, penguins...in a cave...in Vietnam! HAAA---yeah right. They were garbage cans. But why in the world they had penguins and dolphin garbage cans here, I have no clue. Strange sense of humor? No understanding of the obsurdity? Cheap leftovers from a production line? These simple things are what brought smiles to each other in a country that riddled us with such frustration.

After the 'caving,' most other guests on the boat went for an hour kayaking excursion. This would be their only opportunity. As we had all the next day, we opted to return to our junk boat and relax on the boat. A nice enjoyable afternoon being only 2 of the three people on the boat, short of the staff of course. Quiet, beautiful scenery. It was overcast the entire time we were in Halong Bay. But this made for some nice fog effects and the scenery constantly changing, revealing different cliff lines as the clouds meandered about. Well, I should say it was quiet until the captain went off in the little 'commuter' boat to pick up the kayakers. At this point loud karaoke music was turned on by the staff left behind. Promptly to be turned off when the captain returned. I guess this was their one reprieve. After seeing how the whole operation works, I realize this staff never leaves the boat, until a day off of course. But in Vietnam, this was probably only 1-3 days a month. They probably relish in the days that no guests opt to return to the boat to relax at this time. Gives them some more free time on this 12 room boat.

Evening meal on the boat and some evening karaoke. Lots and lots of seafood. And the food just kept coming. The drinks outrageously priced, especially for Vietnam. Even water. We came prepared though. Had to sneak on our water through and be conspicuous on drinking it. They would charge us if they found out! Talk about monopoly. Karaoke a bit of a drag. But no surprise. Where in Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam has there not been karaoke? and bad karaoke and loud karaoke at that. We've come to except this as a fact of life here.

Oh and dinner, more laughter at the communication breakdown traveling in SE Asia. The meal, was tame for Vietnamese standards. They obviously designed the menu with a western tourist in mind. Thinking we want to eat more western style food. This we still don't understand. A guest at our table, in true fashion, not thinking the food was spicy enough asked for some chili peppers. There was some huge confusion as to what he was asking for and was eventually told that they didn't have any. Our table was a bit confused about how this could remotely be possible. He settled on some chili sauce. I kid you not, the very next family style dish that got served was garnished all around the plate by what else...chili peppers!

The second day we 'cruised' to an island and while the boat continued onward to return to the harbor, six of us went on our day excursion of kayaking. Wonderful day, wonderful scenery and wonderful company. After making sure we got shuffled into the right boat because the guide had been misinformed that we had paid for this as well. He had to call the company and confirm. Insued some Vietnamese cussing on the phone I am sure as our receipt did clearly show we paid for 3 days. Another guide laughed as he heard Eric chuckle a comment to me mimicking what we thought the conversation entailed, ending in...'oh shit.' They hadn't brought enough kayaks. So after clearing it up, our little boat cruised over to a kayak rental place to get 1 more kayak. Our guide, Son (as in Mike Ty'SON' he explained) was very forgiving.

This day involved a very nice long cruise deeper into the bay in areas we are told the larger boats can't go. Another cave tour and two kayaking areas into and through several grottos. Monkey sighting. Lunch on our little boat. We worried about there also now not being enough food. But no worries. I think SINH does an excellent job at providing mass amounts of food. So even though there were 2 more people than planned there were still leftovers. We had heard horror stories of other tour companies just flat out not providing enough food. We returned to meet our Junk boat sitting in a different alcove of the bay. We had several hours of swimming and jumping and relaxing on the boat before the next day's worth of tour group arrived. This whole day was made even more enjoyable by the company of the four other tourists. We were all about the same age and similar travel styles. French, Swiss and us made for some good conversations, all questioning each others travel experiences and differences in customs. Diner on the boat again. This time followed by some night time squid fishing. One person being successful. Quit amusing seeing a bunch of adults all crowded around at the anticipation of catching anything off the back of our boat and the ooohs and aaaahs when one was caught.

I should mention, I had read various reports that previous Halong Bay Cruisers were disappointed in the evening docking areas for the boat. That there were too many other boats all around. From our experience, yes, there were many many other boats all very close to each other. In our opinion though, this added to the scenery. All these beautiful Junk boats. Quit honestly, they are gorgeous boats, and when you are on one, how do you see it in the backdrop of Halong Bay? You don't. You see other boats. Plus, it gives into the Vietnamese way of cramming as much in as possible. Everyone making their buck. We learned two important things to consider on this topic. One, The government has limited the number of Junk boats allowed in Halong trying to curtail an overload. No more new boats are being allowed into the Bay. Only new ones that replace previous older boats. Secondly, to help preserve the area, all boats have limitations as to where they can dock for the evening. So of course, they are all going to be in the similar area.

The last day was a long and very enjoyable cruise back to harbor with b-fast and lunch on the boat again. The sun actually broke through today, for about 10 minutes. We return back to Hanoi around 5 o'clock, being each dropped off at our respective hotels. Our attempt at a reprieve from the chaos of planning and watching your back every second had paid off. No funny stuff on this cruise. Only some simple oddoties of the Vietnamese way of doing things. What fun.

Jet Lag Snooze

leizza — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 10:15:00 GMT

While I realize there is a bit of updating to be done from the last few weeks of our trip, right now, for those that have been wondering, yes, we are home, safe and sound. Catching up on some zzzz's. Will update soon.

Allure, Gone Cold.

leizza — Thu, 8 Apr 2010 16:03:00 GMT

Well, the verdict is in and I am definetly DONE with Vietnam. We've been swindled, gauged, robbed, lied to and rejected. Who enjoys any of that? While there are those that love Vietnam and can handle the nuances here, I am not one of them. Yes, I am admitting, I can't hack it. I can't handle it and I am fed up. It is here I have learned a lot though on personal liability and where I draw the line on morality (or is it ethics?). Where my own morals lie and how much I can withstand of others. WHen it stops being comical or amusing to a day in and day out reality.

I feared that here in Vietnam is where I learned my limit in terms of traveling. Is it really true? Can Leisa really not handle 4 months of backpacking in foriegn countries? Am I really homesick? Is that possible coming from me? I am shocked at even the slightest inkling? But when I really think about it, it isn't the homesickness that one may think, but a desire for basic human decency.

Sure I miss some things back home. Some very basic things. THese are fulfilled in other new items here though. Language barriers can be tackled, one way or another. Visual stimulation is so diverse. The joy of a train ride, or a bus ride through beautiful countryside. You learn to satisfy your basic needs one way or another. You travel in a budget, but to maintain your sanity, you can treat yourself to certain modern conviences when needed. All up until Vietnam, I haven't had these just down and out wore out feelings, both emotionally and physically. I racked my brain. Why here? Why here? And then it hit me. TRUST. How far this can take you or bring you down.

Here in Vietnam, the traveling is so rough for me because I can't trust anything or anyone. I can't trust the price given is fair. I can't trust I pay the same for the person next to me. I can't trust the product is true. I can't trust I am being told the truth. I can't trust I will get taken to where I have paid to go. I can't trust my bag won't be taken. I can't trust I will get the food I ordered. I can't trust the room rate is the same at checkout as it was at checkin. I can't trust the food I ordered is the same price before and after the meal. I can't trust the store is even what the sign says it is. I can't trust I won't be charged for the 'gift.' I can't walk, sleep, eat, drink, type, look, breath without having to watch my back. This is a country mentality that I just flat out don't jive with.

I applaud those that can handle it. My hat goes off to you. Or as in Eric's experience, his hat is stolen to those that can. A small price for a lesson learned. Better than most any other of our traveling possesions. A prime example of the result of the action harmless in the grand scale, but the principal of the matter and the manner in which it is done, just leaves a bitter cold feeling.

So, the result of all this? A change in the game plan and strategy for the rest of the trip. Any other country, we would of moved on more quickly and left elsewhere. Here, our plane tickets are already booked and with only a single entry visa, we are slaves to the wolves, short of expending more mulla which I guess is our last saving grace. We are willing to fight a bit longer. We moved on north much quicker than planned and are just staying put for about a week in Hanoi. Now we have learned, we enjoy Saigon better, but hind sight is always 20/20.

We have booked a little mini vacation if that is what you want to call it. What is supposed to be a reprieve from the constant haggle. A (vietnamese) luxury cruise to Halong Bay for 3 days. Everything is planned out and if we haven't been swindled on this too, what should be 3 days of relaxation and hassle-free boating, kayaking, swimming and eating. Our little mini-honeymoon cruise we joke. We leave in 2 days to return for 3 more days in this country before our onward travel to Hong Kong. I can't wait! A little out of our budget, but still attainable.

The entertaining things lately? Well, shopping: $.25 cent fresh beer, $15 made to order shoes, $50 tailored clothes, $25 made to order genuine silver bat ear-rings (hee-hee). And the activities: $1/day bike rental leisure exploring days (minus any flat tires or non functionaing brakes of course), $5 tours of Chu CHi tunnels (VC tunnels during the war), seeing the embalmed Ho Chi Minh, homestay on Mekong Delta, more days of biking around fruit plantations, visiting various war history museums, visiting the love capitol of Vietnam--Dalat and a visit of the Crazy House. Eating more Banh Mi's, noodles, noodles and more noodles. We did have a 'fine dining' evening of 'western' food (french) at about $11 total! Soft chell crab, goat cheese spring rolls, fresh salad, bread, real butter, caramel beef, shrimp coconut salad, fresh squeezed lemon juice. Fresh green salad, cHeese and butter being the first of the trip! DIdn't think we would have those till we returned home. TO clear the air, you can get these items in SE Asia, but normally only in the big cities and you pay for them, so we haven't 'luxured' ourselves in this way.

The museums are so entertaining I must say. The perspectives shown and limited information given is almost as educational to the culture and government here as the museum exhibits themselves. So one sided, and not the side I am used to seeing for sure. How made us Americans are. What autrocities we bare to these people, let alone what they have done. SO much history I have learned on our entire trip really. SO much about American history at that. Funny that I have to come to SouthEast Asia to learn about some aspects of my own culture's history. Americans in Laos during the war, and the Khmer ROuge in Cambodia top the list I beleive.

Shave and a Hair cut...

leizza — Fri, 2 Apr 2010 13:50:00 GMT

So after almost 4 months on the road, I was starting to look a little "backpackerish." I had gotten a beard trim in Louang Probang, Laos, but needed to loose some hair. Shaggy is not a good look for Vietnam. There are barber shops or Hot Toc's (without the accents), in every town, village, or city. Just a chair and a mirror, no fancy pump or blow dryers. So after haggling a price (whole nother story), it got underway. All done by hand (with the exeption of the electric razor to battle down the overgrowth). The shave under around my neck was done by hand with only a single blade. Also around my face, ears and eyes as well. He shave hair I didn't know I even had. Then afterward a five minute head massage to jog the memory of what took place. All in all decent hair cut, shave, and massage for 50,000 dong or about $2.50. Not to bad, but I I had bargained harder, I could have gotten it for less. As is Vietnam. At least there's a weight off my shoulders now.

Our time dwindles.

leizza — Sun, 28 Mar 2010 15:35:00 GMT

Funny I know to say, only a month more to go. May sound a lot for some, but to us it means the trip is winding down. Amazing to think! Everything has been go-go-go, the time has flown and I feel not enough time for reflection along the way. I think I will have lots to write still once we return. I know there is much I haven't written on the blog about what we have done. Some things are more a report though. It is the experiences that I think are the most interesting stories. But as the experiences are what we come for, I don't want to be typing the whole time and not out there.

I find myself not as enthralled in Vietnam. I am not sure if this is because of genuine not as intrigue for me or if this means I am tired. Very tired. 4 months is a long time. While I wouldn't take it back for the world, because we have been on the constant move, it has been a lot to see and do. I think I am on sensory overload at this point. It may sound strange to hear, but Eric and I both feel like it hasn't been a vacation at all. Yes, we have seen lots and enjoyed ourselves. We may not have the stresses of everyday life back home, but we have the SE Asian backpacker stresses.

Everything we do, everywhere we go, involves so much work. Where to go? What route to take? How to get there? How much? Is that a deal or are they ripping us off? Is it worth it even if they are? How much time till the visa runs out? Ok, we can get there, but can we get back? WHere will we sleep? CAn we sleep here? Do the windows close? Does the door lock? Is there a fan? HOw noisy is it? What about mosquitos? What will we eat? Where will we get water? SHould I buy this now, it's great, but that means it get's carried on my back from here on out? Do we take the easy or hard route? How much is the language barrier going to hurt us in certain areas? Being lost. Being unsure. Being hot. Being sweaty. Being dirty. Everynight, a little unease in the back of the head, even as tired as you may be. Should I wash my clothes tonight, or tomorrow? Do we need more toilet paper? Can I eat this? Should I eat this? Is it worth the risk? Is this bus going the right way? When do I get off? Where do I get off? Ok, I am off, but where am I?

We felt most like a 'vacation' in the end of Laos and through the last week of Cambodia. I believe this is because in Laos we were understanding the language more and the ease of everything got expentially better this way. In Cambodia at the end, the guesthouses and hotels miracously got better out of no where. TV, Cable, Hot water, Fridges, Free internet, comfortable beds, clean sheets, quiet halls. Also while in Angkor the best way to get around was hiring a tuk for a day. So everywhere else we walked and walked, but here we just hired someone to drive us around for the day. Made for some nice more relaxing times. ALso our last two days in Cambodia were spent on a small fishing shore town. We bicycled and ate great crab. That's about it. Very nice.

And let's face it, no matter who you are, how strong your relationship, traveling like this breaks you down to the bare bones sometimes. Handling our own stresses together has had its bumps, but as always, makes us stronger and more understanding in the end.

What do I miss? Good toilet paper! I've never been too picky in the past, but how much I now appreciate the even basic toilet paper back home. I miss milk. I miss cereal. Now I could feed this craving somewhat here, but I would have to shell out a lot for it. I can wait. Plus, I enjoy the noodle bowl breakfasts. And for the last month about anyway, we have been around baquettes and pastries. Now that part, getting pastries everyday does feel like a vacation. I miss not having for one day to not go out into the blistering sun. I miss being able to just relax for the afternoon and not stress about our transportation for the next day. I miss drinking tap water. I miss good toothpaste. I miss a good chair. I miss effective laundry detergent.

I say these things not to sound like a drag, but to inform the reality. THere is so much I love here and will miss when we go home. Once we go home, those things I miss I will have every day. Who knows if we will ever have some of the things we have learned to love here ever again. Good sticky rice. SPecifically that from Vieng Phouka, Laos (no exporting). CAmbodian sandwhich. We believe which came after the famous Vietnamese Banh Mi, but yet we feel is much better. Cheap massages. Cheap fresh fruit and fresh fruit juices and shakes. Motos (driving one that is--not so much dealing with them every step you take, road or no road). Good food night markets. Cheap fresh seafood...oh the cockles!

**post written 3/30, not posted until 4/8

Vietnam Blues--or Excitement, I don't know yet.

leizza — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 00:44:00 GMT

We've been in Vietnam for 9 days now. Our traveling here has not gone as smooth as previously. Luckily, we are still intact and still moving along. Don't let this scare anyone. Our travel experiences here have been quit funny though and make for good stories as hind sight. We are learning the pace of things in Vietnam and learning how to better protect our interests and stress levels, even if that means paying a bit more for a 'somewhat' more 'at ease' travel. Although nothing is ever certain in Vietnam. As we have learned, crime is soo high here, the locals just kind of expect it.

The funny part too, is that by entering in the south and working our way through the Delta, we probably came through the more tourist friendly area first. Better to get our feet wet for the Vietnam experience. Very quickly we found that we have to book our travel well in advance here. Up until now, we show up at a bus station and can get on a bus. Upon entering Vietnam, we headed out to Phu Quoc Island as previously mentioned. There are only 2 boats a day coming and going. We didn't think getting off the island would be a problem. We went to book our exit tickets the day before we wanted to leave and everything was full, and everything the day after. AHHH! Not the end of the world, being trapped on a tropical island some might think, but when there is so much to see in such a short time, we wanted to move on. There is an airport on the island, so we looked into flying off...no luck, all full, no matter where we went in Vietnam. Luckily as our options wained and began to except our fate, two tickets were canceled and we happened to be in the right place at the right time. We had our boat tickets off the island. Not to the city we wanted, but we didn't care, it got us moving onward.

Upon reaching mainland again, we are the only westerners that don't go directly to the tourist office to book mini-bus tour operated onward travel. We march off to the local bus station. No moto-taxi, we have a small map, 1.5km we can handle, backpacks and heat considering. And it worked. But now at the local station we realize, they aren't so equipped to handle two bumbling westerners that can't communicate that clearly. As we are not in the town we originally wanted to be it meant booking one bus ticket only to connect to another bus that moved on to where we ultimately wanted to be. There were no direct buses. Some people tell us, 'ok, ok you go, ok.'

'Really?' I think. You didn't say 'yes-we can connect', only, 'ok.' We've got nothing to lose, so climb onto this old bus headed for another border town with Cambodia. Packed full in good old SE Asian style, with the clutch sounding like it's about to go, we head off, luggage, riders and freight (yes freight). We make the 'normal' out of no where stops. More people climb on to what is seemlessly no more room. The little plastic chairs come out down the aisles. People on people. Eric's legs quickly falling asleep. What fun rides these are. I am serious too!

So thinking we are going to be arriving at a bus station...Think about it, how do you know where you really are? What city are you really arriving to? All we know is about how long it should take, so come about that time we monitor and try to look for any landmark to our whereabouts. About the time we should be rolling into a bus station, after dropping more than 3/4 of the bus at various points in the last 5 km, the driver pulls over on the side of the road. The bag man yells, 'Can Tho? Can Tho? You--Can THo?' and is handing our bags off the bus to men on the street. AHHHH! give me those bags. As quickly as we can muster these bags into our own hands we are off the bus and swept onto another bus also pulled over. There is a sign on the bus, Can Tho. This must be right. We ask the driver and with a shake of the head we are swooshed onto the bus. Well, I guess that was our connection. We have no clue price, what we are going to owe, but away we go...quickly I might add.

Now this last point is very important into the factors that occurred on this next bus ride. For certain reasons I cannot divulge right now, this bus ride bore witness to Eric and I something we probably will never have the 'privelege' of witnessing again. Let's just say for now, we are at a border town and it was a 'sNuggle' of a ride. Details to come in about 19 days. Luckily, we got to where we needed to be (this time at least).

Our next onward travel was quit an experience as well. After paying way more than we should of for a bus ride because we were taken to the wrong bus station by a not so informed moto-taxi (or commissioned based, however you look at it), we literally get told, 'you go, you go---NOW!' while I am trying to close my bag from buying the tickets, a moto helmet is put on my head and I get pushed to a bike. 'What?' I though we go by bus, 'Yes, Yes--bus, you go NOW!' Our best guess, they are wooshing us to the bus station where we originally needed to be to catch the bus leaving even though we bought the tickets at this station. It actually makes sense when you see how things work here.

So after argueing with the driver (after Eric's has left) because of my bag getting in his way (nevermind the approx. 10 other moto-taxi drivers we've had who haven't cared less and seriously--are you kidding me, I see what all you guys haul on your motor cycles...this pack is small pickles comparitevely. Old vietnamese men on the sidewalk all pointing and laughing at me as I yell, 'No, No, NO!' as someone tries to grab my bag and yet the driver is trying to RUSH me off to the bus....ARGH---NOT FUN!!! So to teh bus station we go, NO. It takes me, and luckily Eric is there as well, to the ferry where the gate is down and the bus already on. He demands no money. Ok--so something must mb right. He points to the bus and off I get. I run up the landing, Eric standing waiting. We get on, shew.

Well, only shew until you realize that 1 1/2 later when you should be about to where you should be and actually see landmarks that reaffirm this. You can't deny huge natural things...like the Mekong. The driver does not stop. He drives. And drives. We question. He says ok. Now I must explain that some routes here do figure eights practically, so even though you might be where you think you should be, it takes a while yet. We wait a while. The driver doesn't turn, she keeps going straight north. What is going on? Twice more we try to communicate where we are going. Finally he gets it....way too late. His only comment. 'Vieng Long?' as he points behind us. We know. We know. Our ticket is for there...You did not stop. Sighs from the other riders on the bus. 'You no go to Ho Chi Minh?' NOOOO. Vieng Long.

His solution. Gets us off the bus misc. at the side of the road, walks us across and hails another bus heading back into town. Different company mind you. But at least he got us headed in the right direction. So after many attempts of argueing, we are charged to go back...ahhhhh. They all laugh at us on the bus. Quit literally when I explain that we already buy a ticket and the driver forgot to stop. We are lost and confused as this driver DOES do figure eights. We continually see signs for Vieng Long, pointing the opposite direction of every turn he makes. The only person that speaks english and is our saving grace on the bus gets off. We are all thats left. Eventually, we arrive, and amazingly enough, without having told him, we literally drops us off right at the building we needed to be. No bus station like we thought. Probably because he pocketed the money we had to pay him and if he went to bus station, they would see two westerners getting off.

Since then, we have opted for a bit more 'touristy' bus rides that mean shelling a few more dollars to get us to point B, at least until we get our feet under us again. Tomorrow we leave Ho Chi Minh (yes, we did finally go there) and head north to Dalat. We wanted to stop at a small town in between, but as this meant hiring a moto-taxi to take us 10km outside the city to a local bus station...we opted elsewise for now. We'll be happy with what we get.

In VIetnam

leizza — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 11:27:00 GMT

We crossed into Vietnam yesterday. A much anticipated border crossing that was amazingly seemless. We crossed at Ha Tien, a VERY new border crossing point. We only saw one other couple of travelers there. THey actually were the only other people we saw crossing here. We were expecting to wait a long time and have long lines, but nope. We had to wait a tad bit as the Vietnamese government made sure we were all okay and Visas good and the what not, answered a few questions, and await we went.

We rode a tuk from Kep, Cambodia to just outside the border. We then hired moto-taxis to take us to the border, across, and to the town of Ha Tien. Riding on the back of a local Vietnamese motorcycle with my bags on a bumpy dirt road, while me driver (and Eric's as well I later learn) answers and talks on his cell phone was a bit nerve racking. My helmet way to big so just trying to keep it from flying off my head while i held onto the bike was fun! It took three trys for the drivers to take us to the correct hotel we asked for. You have to be pushy and know what you want and not give in.

Now, I type a little while we wait for our transport to the ferry to the boat for Pho Douc, what I am told is a very nice island off the southern tip of Vietnam. Eric's goal is the fish sauce production there, nevermind the white beaches! We have little time for so much to see in VIetnam so we won't stay long before heading inland and north through the country. I am nervous about our time here, but I hope it goes smoothly. I hope the bacchi string tied to our wrists from a ceremony in Laos continues to bring is luck in VIetnam as has been the case so far.

Our time in Kep was enjoyable. Here is the perfect balance of Salt and Pepper. Quit literally. There are salt production fields here and pepper is grown as well. We had, quit literally, the best Crab in my life here. Fresh peppercorn Crab. What Eric calls the epidemy of the perfect dish because it brings together the best of the local ingredients. Local crab, fried up in fresh green peppercorns...delicious! Licking everylast morsel off my fingers. Eric tells me the green peppercorns can not be exported, so only here will you get them. At home, you can only find them canned. Of course, you dry them and get the peppercorns you are used to, except of course, these are really damn good.

Oh, our guest house here were nice bungalows. At night you could here things scurrying on the roof, but no worries. Until on the second morning we wake up to find Eric's sandal chewed up!

oh-time for boat...

Some Observations.

leizza — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 20:10:00 GMT

If you can't tell already, I am playing some catch up on the blog. GOt the time and got the connection. I can't help but wonder. Who are you out there I see reading the blog as I post?

CHildren in Laos from our observations were so happy. People here weren't rolling in the dough by any stretch of the imagination, but they all seemed content. Not so much here in Cambodia. In Laos, Money seemed to flow as it needed to/from family to family, business to business. Capitalizing on the tourists wasn't too rampant for the most part. There were a few pockets of course. Everyone seemed so kind as well. They always, I mean always said hello to you, even as they spotted you on a bus as we drove through a village. The children and sometimes adults yelling hello in the local language, maybe even in English. The adults though most of the time, if the bus came to a stop to pick up/drop off someone or something, or just to make a pit stop or maybe the driver got thirsty would do their best best to try and sell you something. You almost didn't have to bring snacks or drinks on a long ride, because you always had window service at the stops. Your options maybe not too broad, but food and water none the less. Mango, Papaya, sticky rice, grilled chicken on skewer, quail eggs, hard boiled eggs, baguettes (in the rare towns that had them-thank you France, water, pepsi, chips, banana fritters, who knows what else. These experiences only came on local buses though. The VIP buses and tour mini-buses, although they might be a/c and get you to where you're going, you'll pay maybe double the price and not get the experiences we were.

And the trash, man oh man the trash. Everywhere. Garbage cans? What are those? These local buses were soo trashed after a long days ride. Egg shells, fruit skins, plastic bags, puke, bottles, rice, bones on the seats and on the floor, nEvermind what they bothered to take off the bus--out the window. Streets littered so much. In the drains, in the yards. There isn't education here at all about waste and the effects there of. Coming from places especially like Portland and Singapore for that matter, here is such a dramatic change! How wonder how involved a non-profit project in cahouts with the Laos government through a Waste Management Education Program would be?

Even on our trek early on in our visit to Laos, our guide opened our eyes. We were in a small hut crowded around the fire that he was cooking diner over when he threw in the empty plastic bag into the trash. We both jumped as the black fumes starting coming up. Our guide seemed confused. We tried our best to explain how bad this was and I said I would pack out the trash, I don't want it burned here. He said it didn't matter. I didn't understand. I questioned him. He said what's the difference. You pack it out and put in the 'trash' in the city, it will still get burned. All the trash gets burned, not matter what it is. Ok, I can't change a whole countries way of waste management through not burning this one plastic bag in front of my face, but I don't want it burned here, now, while we breathe it in. He still didn't really understand I think, but he packed it out. Well, actually I assume he did. I didn't see what was in the fire for the hour in the morning he cooked breakfast while I slept, in the same room.

Our trek, I never have given any details about it. This was a three day, two night trek in the Nam Ha National Park outside Vieng Phouka, Laos. Our guide was 'Pang.' He spoke good English. Enough to communicate, but enough to learn as well. We traded language help for our three days together. It was Pang, Eric and I only. Very nice. The trekking was nice in terms of scenery, but the trip was more interesting in terms of what we learned from him as well as where we slept. Each day we arrived early-mid afternoon into local tribe villages in the mountains. The first was quit large actually. We walked and watched and played and washed up with the villagers. We slept in the çheifs home. The chief had a small Petzl headlamp. A gift from a westerner. Bamboo hut with a raised bamboo platform to sleep on. Dinner was cooked and eaten in the hut as well. Our guide did the cooking, with some help from the chief's wife. I know Eric got a kick out of watching the whole process. We ate together with the chief, with our hands in proper Laos style. When we were done, then the wife and children ate our leftovers. Had I known this was the circumstance, I would of left more behind. The wife and children also cleaned up everything afterwards. We weren't allowed to help. I know the guide service we went through was very reputable and paid the village for allowing our visit. I guess there is a service to this payment. Pang also treated the chief very well.

In the beginning, Pang paid a villager in the town we started out trek to carry out food up until lunch. He ate lunch with us and took the leftovers back home. Pang then packed in the food for the first night and the first morning. Lunch he cooked in the mornings and packed in banana leaves picked from the forest. Our second diner was the more interesting. Pang told us the second night would be in a much smaller village, about 12-15 people. He only brought enough food for the first night and would buy food from the villagers for our second night. When we arrived, the village was empty. Just like a ghost town short of the farm animals roaming all over. The homes were boarded up. He started un boarding them. I questioned him. Is that ok? It felt like an invasion. He assured me that it is ok. THey have a prearrangement with the villagers and pay a fee to 'trek' people in. He only opens up the 'guest' hut he tells us. Upon looking inside, it was obviously for guests. nothing but a fire pit and bed platform, some wood, two mosq. nets, and a few pads and blankets. No one lives here daily.

He continues to tell us that this is the beginning of rice season and the villagers must be out planting their fields, about a 3 hour hike from there. He says they will stay there for a few weeks before returning. We dont ask and he doesn't say, but Eric and I can't help but wonder...what about food? We arrived rather early in the afternoon to this village. I was looking forward to an afternoon with the villagers, but actually had a very very pleasant time in this remote mountain village just day dreaming and napping and writing and walking and bathing in the small stream at the bottom of the hill. Dreaming of what life here must really be like. In a way, it was more 'true to life' to be here while the villagers were making their livelihood. Late afternoon, Pang opened the chiefs hut and collected some cookware (just a pot really, some bowls and a water pot and cook spoon) and some rice. He collected some wild cilantro, more banana leaves and few others spices from the forest and says ok, are you hungry yet? 'Time to catch a chicken.'

What? You're going to catch a chicken? "Yep. I will pay the villagers next time i come, it's ok." And off he goes. He first feeds all the chickens in the village to get them all to come. He searches a small one out, no need to kill more than what will feed the three of us. Before I know it, the chicken's head is snapped and he has it hung. He says he doesn't like slitting the throat. Eric follows him off as he then plucks it and guts it. We learn then that Chickens eat chickens. Not too picky of an animal. Our diner was quit good...and filling. Wild cilantro--awesome!

After Diner, as the sun goes down, three villagers, all woman, wonder into the village. Apparently someone we crossed on the trail earlier told them we would be there and they have returned to make sure everything goes smooth. They keep their distance. Much different than the other night. They don't eat our leftovers, but the elder woman does clean up after us. She did come over and stand in the doorway and we just eyed each other for a while. She just as interested in what i looked like and what I was wearing as I was of her I think. She brings a stool for me to sit on, as opposed to the crouching on the ground I have been doing. That is about the only interaction we had. The villagers speak a different language than even what Pang speaks, not Laos. The chiefs in the towns seem to be the only ones that speak Laos, with whom the agreements are made. She must be the wife. Her clothes dirty, like all others, but she has a nice jacket on and a gorgeous very large silver pendant necklace. I wonder if this jacket came as a gift like the headlamp.

We learn on our trek that the town of Vieng phouka, where our guide lives will get power come middle of the summer probably. This means no more power outages at 9 oçlock at night. On an earlier post I mentioned that they are on generator. There was especially no power in the villages mind you. ACtually, a few huts, especially the chiefs, did have solar panels. Amazing. Gifts from the government I think. A way to keep them off the grid.

As we leave by road after our trekking complete from Vieng Phouka several miles down, we seem them working on the power lines toward the town. Pang says his first purchase...a washing machine!

The continued trek of Coffee.

leizza — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 19:04:00 GMT

Eric and I fell in love with the coffee in Malaysia. Cheap and good. Started becoming somewhat addictive. Good morning drink and good afternoon pick me up after some hot walking and touring in the sun. In Thailand, the coffee wained as it wasn't that good, as unique, nor as cheap as they capitalized on the many droves of European Tourists. They complained about how bad the coffee was, but still kept ordering it. I don't get it. I guess they also kept searching for 'good coffee'places (meaning, European style little coffee shops), not the local drink stalls.

In Laos, coffee kind of went to the wayside. Not as much of it. More hot ovaltine, pawned off as coffee. Quit hilarious. On our trekking adventure, every morning we got two drinks, served in bamboo stalks 1) mint tea, yum ; 2) hot 'çoffee' ovaltine. The exception came in central/southern Laos. We went up onto the Bolavan Plateau to the town of Paksong. Here, coffee bean farms. Large co-ops of farms. Funny though that we couldn't find much of the local coffee served. The coffee that was served was bitter and steapped way way too long (probably all day). We finally went to a co-op where all they served was their 3 types of coffee: Arabica, Robusta Natural, Robusta Washed. ALl grown their. Very good. And served Euro style meaning no sweetened condensed milk. Where it was roasted, I don't know. I think that finding that answer would be an insight as to why we couldn't find the coffee locally much.

Here we learn that Bolaven coffee is one of the most expensive coffees in the world and can only be bought in the US. Coffee lovers out there--is there validity to that? I don't know. No wonder we couldn't find it. They got way more money exporting it, so why sell it to the very few tourists that come? We were among maybe 5 other white tourists we saw the 2 days we were in the area.

Amazing to think that this expensive coffee was processed so simply. How much of us really think about our 'éxpensive' imported brands of things and what processes they trully go through. These were small farms. Huts the families lived in. Well, there were a few larger euro style mansions I guess you would call them here (french style). Who lived here I don't know. They were in the town, not on the farms. Must of been the exporteres themselves. The money backers, the brains of the business. Although I do know that American and French organizations helped the farmers to join in a co-op to help each other make better profits.

But the beans appeared to be picked by hand into rice bags. Dried out on the yards, along the streets on tarps. We watched in a family's back yard as the mother, father and son worked with the beans. All they did was take the dried beans, pour into an old 'dehusker' run by gasoline the father continually fed, and back into rice bags. The mother every once and a while strolling over to taste the beans. All this done barefoot, walking all over the beans, gasoline dripping of the side of the rusty machine, dirty hands. Not that this concerns me really, just interesting perspective of an 'éxpensive' product.

We tried the raw bean. Not roasted at this point, so good experience to try the product in the raw. CAn't say I loved it, but it didn't offend me. I mostly chewed it and spit it out. I guess it is the purest form of caffeine though. No way some of it could of been cooked out.

It was here that we also tried renting bicycles. The owner just laughed at us. He didn't understand why in the world we would want to bicycle if we could just rent a motorbike. We believed it was the same phenomena of when people first get cars, they want to drive everywhere. They use the motobikes everywhere here. 2 blocks, why walk? Our plans for the day included about a 28km roundtrip route to see the sites we wanted to. Perfect for a nice ride, especially since we are in the higher elevation. Although the sun is out and hot and burning of the skin, cooler than other lowland places we have been and will be.

He rolled out one bike that was missing a pedal and not exactly straight tires. He searched for a second but than said his son had taken it to school so he only had one bike, so he would give us a deal on a motobike. No, we opted to walk for the day. He shook his head in udder confusion as we walked on our way.

We priced out our options. Tuks, tuks and walking and motobike. When you account for the price of petro in addition to the rental, not even sure he had helmets available, and the limited area we needed to cover, we decided we would walk part way and catch a tuk for the rest. Ended up being a great day as we walked the part no tuks went. Paid for a tuk ride down to some waterfalls and were able to hitch a ride back up. Our hitch was quit amusing. We flagged the pickup. He agreeed no problem. The locals paid for tuks, so this makes us think the only reason we were able to hitch was because we were tourists. The local was happy to help as we were going where he was. We crawled in the bed only to discover the two things he was hauling. Rolls of barbed wire and a matress. I chose the matress.

So our transportation on this trip so far (in response to a much earlier question on the comments from the blogsite) include: planes, trains, automobiles (taxi), subway, light rail, elephants, oxen, bicycles, motorbikes (rented and moto-taxis), bus, bus, and buses, mini-bus, small bus, local bus, vip bus, tuk-tuks (too many to count), jumbos, hitching, pickup 'buses,' slowboats, longboats, ferries, rafts, what am I forgetting?

We have heard stories and witnessed too much about motobike accidents in Laos. The hospitals are wretched here. The first thing you do when renting a bike, is find out the quickest way, just in case, to get to Thailand and to Bangkok specifically for a good hospital. One tourist told us of his most recent accident the day before and trip to the hospital. When he talks about stray dogs and blood and shaved hair from "surgeries" everywhere, not a pretty site. He wouldn't let them inject him with anything as much as they tried. Luckily he was conscious to tell them so, although he said some painkillers would of been nice. They met him at the door (because someone phones ahead) with a stretcher and IV's and such. He was x-rayed and He thinks he broke his foot but as he was returning home in 3 days, he had it bandaged and would see a doctor at home.

We have seen a few locals with IV's outside of the hospitals. Just out and about. One was a child being held by the mother just standing on the side of the road. The other was in a truck. Someone was standing in the bed in the back holding the IV that wound it's way through the door window to the front seat. Why are they not still in the hospital? oh, the hospitals we have seen? Well, they are just about the size of a house in the US.

We have rented bicycles though on a few occasions. Quit hilarious actually. Third time we did (first time in Cambodia), we managed to do alright. The bikes actually rode straight, didn't drag on the brakes, they did stop when the brakes were squeezed, the handles stayed on, the bikes were about the right size-Although i don't think Eric will ever find the right size here- and probably most importantly, we didn't get all scrapped up in the hands and no flat tires. The bikes available here are road cruisers. But that is not to say that the roads and paths don't call for a dirt bike really.

So back from a long diversion from coffee. In cambodia, the coffee has improved, but to be honest, not sure where it is coming from. You choose, sweetened condensed milk or milk. Dairy has lacked severally on this trip and we are finally entering a realm of it. Unless you specify the type of milk though, you will get condensed. Our only calcium seems to have been from the bits of ice cream treats that we have. We started getting soymilks and yogurts when we could to help feed the calcium cravings. Now though, rather than coffee, since it seems too average here, we are drinking as much fresh squeezed fruit juices that we can. Orange, watermelon, mango, banana, lime, lemon, sour sop, papaya, pineapple....

How spicy is that Papaya Salad?

leizza — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 18:37:00 GMT

So the story I referenced earlier, my papaya salas in Laos. I stroll through the night market on Luang Prabang. Looking for a lite diner. Eric sick back in our room. I find a stall with a woman making fresh papaya salad (the only way it's made here by the way). Mortared up to order. Sounds about right. We have had papaya salad throughout our trip so far, with varying degrees of spiciness and small nuance differences depending on the country and region we are in. There is a slight line, all white tourists.

I wait. I watch. No clue how much it costs, waiting till my turn. The woman in front of me, about my age is really apprehensive. She quizzes the people in front of her about the dish, sees the size of the order they got. Her turn arrives. I still don't know the price yet. I am half paying attention when I realize this woman is trying to order a 1/2 order of the papaya salad. 'trying' because the stall maker speaks no English and is having a hard time understanding what this woman is requesting. The tourist keeps saying, "20,000 for half, yes?' Wow I think. That is pretty high price (approx. $2.30). After many attempts, she gives in to the full order. I guess she is thinking she will be paying $40,000.

As the salad is made, questions are asked in the form of pointing to ingredients as to wether she wants them in her salad or not. She is scared of it being too spicy and repeats, "no spice." She asks me, "have you had this before?" "ÿes, just not here."

"ïf I tell them no spice, will it still be spicy?" "from my experience, yes, you should be fine." she continues, "ï passed them up in thailand, but I think I am ready to try it now."

I think, wow, why did you pass it up?

She opts for the bottled manufactured fish sauce option, not the homemade fish paste for her salad. Oh, what she is missing. As her salad is being finished up I ask in Laos how much it is and the stall maker responds in Laos, "10,000." I chuckle. I don't know how much the other woman ends up paying because now this happens...

The tourist tries the salad and complains. "Oh, too spicy, Too spicy. I can't eat it." She refuses to buy it. Ah come on lady I think, that is the risk you take here, just pay the money and take the lose. The stall maker attempts to make things right, She adds more plain papaya, she adds more peanuts. The woman is still not happy. At this point the salad is really beefed up and she requests a new one to be made. Ah, gees.

The stall owner starts to make a new one for the lady. Asks me if spicy ok and if I want the one she just made. Not what I would of chosen, would of had it more authentic in ingredients but I feel bad for the stall owner. Plus I feel some of us need to hold a good reputation (at least as much as we can) for the tourists in relation to how they treat the people and culture here. I say I will take it. My price? $7,000 (less than a dollar.) Funny. I leave with my cheap salad and wish the other customer good luck as she waits for her new salad.

You're selling WHAT!?

leizza — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 00:20:00 GMT

Angkor. Beautiful. Historic. World Heritage site. and what does this mean? tourists...droves of them. which of course means touts and things to buy, many, many things to buy. Our time here isnt about souvenirs though. 3 days we are spending here and we won't see it all by a long shot. there's no time to go looking through the stalls and stalls. (shift key not working, so sorry on the capitalization issues). this doesn't stop the sellers though. they spot you like a hawk, 500 metres away they are yelling at you, ''sir' 'lady' you buy you buy. next thing you know you have a swarm (yes a swarm) of woman ands children all selling their wears. Let me paint a picture.

The first Wat we went to yesterday. We had a hired tuk-tuk for the day so he dropped us off. We started early hoping to avoid the crowds for the faintest bit of the day that we could. we had a lot to see so we beelined it directly to the wat. not 20 seconds into walking a child, 4-5 yrs old comes running over with a basket of goods. Her hand full of bracelts. she starts selling. 'lady, i have bracelet for you'. good price. good price. 3 for dolla'' i wish I could interject the accent. I makes it so much more interesting. bare in mind, all prices in Cambodia so far have been quoted in US dollar. I say no and keep walking.

ók. ok. 4 for dolla.

no. no.

still walking with me. ok ok. 5 for dolla.

i chuckle. price keeps dropping and i haven't shown one lo\ick of interest. didn't even look at the bracelets. my attention on the wat ahead. keep walking. maybe if i don't answer and ignore, she'll stop.

ok. ok. 6 for dolla.

(hee-hee)

we arrive to the wat.

ok. ok. 7 for dolla.

wow! talk about price drop. too bad i really didn't want them. i wonder how low it would of gone? every wat we go to. we are swarmed. sir. lady. cold drink for you. cold water. 2 for dolla. Today, we are walking away from Angkor Wat, about 5 oçlock in the evening. eating our snacks and drinking our water. and yet we are still asked.

'sir. sir. you buy cold water 1 for dolla.

i already have a water.

ok. ok. lady you buy cold water. 2 for dolla.

no.

i have COLD water for you. See See. ok ok. 2 for dolla.

no.

the swarms, they come 'mango, 2 for dollah. good price. cambodian price. coke. sprite. water. for you. discount. 2 for dolla. madam, t-shirt, one dolla. scarf one dolla. for you lady. good price. good price. i give you discount. 2 for dollah. one dollah. one dollah. baby. one dollah.'

what! all our attention now diverted. we both stop and turn to look. one kid, barely walking, the mother, 'óne dollah' not even a smile on her face. making fun of her own kind we then realize. but we can't help but wonder. was that just to get our attention to know the options. we hear you can buy anything you want here. you just have to know to ask and pay the right price. scary.