When not in Rome...

reallylvs2travel — Fri, 24 Jun 2016 12:51:00 GMT

Bittersweet fermentation, subtle conversations, and contagious smiles are a few things you can smell, hear, and see within this modest building. After the informative and brief tour ended, I was greeted with a flight. Now, this is why we and every other tourist is here in the City of Lights. Booze and a good time.

Before I sampled the first craft beer, I sat in the dark stained wooden chair and embraced the cool surroundings. The buffed metal and barn red paint brought on a sudden nostalgia of home. But I’m not home, I’m over 1,500 miles away. With my thirsty spouse and equally as thirsty friends sitting at the same table, I offered to play a game of cards. We are in the Gambling Capital of the World after all.

I walked over to the small faded metal bookshelf and found what caught the corner of my eye. A board game that I haven’t played since I was 10 years old. Giddily, I grabbed it. The condition of the box prompted me to remember the fate of my board game. Siblings and a new box of color crayons. I can still smell the orange crayon smearing across the new colorful box.

The casual gentleman from the next table took notice to my tearful smile and offered a cheer. His deep British accent echoed throughout the hall while his tall pint and my short stange clanked to our good health. One by one, my samples were depleted. Naturally curious by the man’s accent and rustic t-shirt, I inquired about his travels. He told a story of a birthday celebration while his family rolled with laughter.

A simple cheer led to hilarious introductions and worldly conversations from each corner of the brewery. The staff kept the glasses full and the atmosphere alive from behind the modern bar top. Forgetting about the board game, I ordered another. Each time my glass filled with brown ale. Despite the touch of chocolate malt, the brown ale was crisp and clean. Its rich and dark appearance would lead you to believe otherwise.

The on-site food vendor offered appetizers to all patrons. Though the aromatic bacon popcorn provided temporary hunger relief, it would not absolve you of an unfortunate day of recovery the next day. Especially when you have the all-you-can-drink wristband.

Instead of falling to the Capital of Second Chances, regretting our decisions, or picking up pieces from the night; we walked, not stumbled, out into the sweltering dry heat happy and content.

What happened in Las Vegas, didn’t stay there. I took it with me, in a growler.

Back in Nom

reallylvs2travel — Wed, 27 May 2015 12:38:20 GMT

Don’t look forward. Keep looking down. Breathe. Ignore the panic cries from the couple behind you. Keep crawling. Tell yourself, “If soldiers can survive these ever confining tunnels while carrying 25-100 pounds of gear with bombs shattering the ground above you, without a tour guide, I can make it.” It’s not 1972.

Rewind 30 minutes. The Ben Duoc Cu Chi Tunnel tour guide plays an introductory video. The Vietnam War. Excellent, I know all about this. History class is about to pay off. The faded television screen displays English subtitles featured in a nostalgic 1980s yellow font. The video presents a victorious communist army and exemplary acts of valor by Ho Chi Minh. This isn’t how I remember learning about the war. Wait, I am not in the USA anymore.

Fast-forward 30 minutes. The crawling line has stopped. Great, someone took a wrong turn! Breathe. By golly there’s light ahead. “Really? What else would be at the end of a tunnel? This is a tour after all,” I reminded myself. Soon I emerged from the stale dry air to fresh, correction, thick heavy forest air. Yet, it’s ever so comforting. “Wow”, I thought, “I braved a 5 minute crawl in the Cu Chi tunnels.”

After a quick snack and a Coke, our tired and sweaty group walked towards our motor scooters. Unbeknownst, we took a wrong turn and found a picturesque memorial among the rain forest. A tranquil setting considering what was on these grounds 40 years ago. Walking under an impressively carved three door Ben Duoc arch, we proceeded straight ahead to the massive main temple, ignoring the 9-story tower to the left and gardens to the right.

Still trembling from the enclosing tunnels, I brushed myself off, checked my scuffed elbows and knees, and removed my earthen shoes before entering the traditional Vietnamese shrine. As I walked through, my chest grew tighter, but this time not from the dense tropical air. There were 45,000 names of Vietnamese heroes, civilian and military, carved in granite that stretched 5-7 rows high on three walls. These were people who lost their lives defending their country and what they believed in.

I have always wanted to talk with someone from the “other side” of the war and get their perspective. The introductory video, asthmatic tunnels, and the memorial temple did just that. No need for a personal interview.

No later than 30 seconds of exiting the main temple, the rains came. But I didn’t care I didn’t have proper rain gear. For once Mother Nature and I agreed.

Lvs 2 Travel

When not in Rome...

Back in Nom