Thursday morning we headed out from Hanoi for an overnight trip to the nearby Ha Long Bay, yet another UNESCO World Heritage Site. (Counting Hue, that makes FIVE UNESCO World Heritage Sites -- ahh, ahh, ahh, aaaaahhhhh.)
We booked an overnight stay on the boat "Jewel of the Bay" and were off. By some stroke of luck, we ended up being the only passengers on our boat. So, Marcella, Barb, and I had a staff of probably seven or eight waiting on us. It was cool. Also, this meant that the really annoying blow-hard American ex-pat on the van to Ha Long Bay was not on our boat, thus preventing one of us from committing murder.
The bay is beautiful, with small green mountains periodically rising out of the water. There are caves in the mountains for you to explore, too. The only downside is that there are dozens of other boats out on the bay with you, seeing the sites at exactly the same time. (I think the government licenses the boats only to go to certain sites in a particular route.) When we put down anchor for the night, I counted over three dozen other boats surrounding ours. Also, there were people in rowboats going from boat to boat trying to sell water and Ritz crackers and what not. Though I love a Ritz cracker -- who doesn't? -- I think the presence of all the other boats takes away a little bit from the peaceful idyll that the bay could otherwise be.
Unfortunately, I probably should have bought some Ritz crackers. Something I ate on the boat or elsewhere did me wrong, and I got sick yesterday morning. (We shall call it Ho Chi Minh's Revenge.) I was pretty much miserable and in bed from yesterday afternoon -- when we returned to Hanoi -- until this morning. I'm 33 years old and have traveled half way around the world, and all I wanted was my mom to be sitting next to me, with a cold washcloth and some red jello.
I'm all dosed up on antibiotics now, thanks to the prescience of the docs in my pre-trip travel clinic, who thought to give me a prescription to bring with me to Asia. Of course, I laughed when I saw that the side effects of the drug they gave me to treat Ho Chi Minh's Revenge are nausea and diarrhea, the very same symptoms the drug is supposed to alleviate. But, in any case, I'm definitely feeling better and am able to get out of bed.
Today's my last day in Vietnam, and it's pouring like a mutha. Tomorrow I head to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand, where among other things, I plan to lounge in a fancy hotel, ride an elephant, and get a massage. I'm super excited.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
We're on a Road to Nowhere
After our stay in Hoi An, Marcella and I made our way up the coast to a nearby city called Hue. Hue was the imperial capital during the 19th Century and part of the 20th Century. It's also probably the closest city (as opposed to town) to the North-South Vietnamese border.
Monday morning, Marcella and I got up at the crack of dawn to take a half day tour of the DMZ and surrounding areas. The border between N. and S. Vietnam was at the Ben Hai River (technically the 17th parallel). The DMZ was created in the 1950's, and if I understand correctly, is basically a 5 km stretch on either side of the river. I can't say what the DMZ looked like during the Vietnam War, but now it's just an area full of rice paddies. You can't really tell when you are entering or leaving the area, and there's nothing really to see in the DMZ itself.
But, we also visited the Vinh Moc tunnels, just over the border in North Vietnam. The Viet Cong created several kilometers of underground tunnels as a base during the Vietnam War. The tunnels go something like 23 meters underground, and were pretty complex (also pretty narrow). Eventually, village people came to spend time in the tunnels, and more than one baby was even born there. It's interesting though. Our Vietnamese guide kept emphasizing how the tunnels were civilian tunnels, and the museum at the tunnels showed pictures of all the babies that were born and the movies that were shown inside, etc. But, picking up one of my guide books, the first thing you read is that the tunnels were built and used by the VC as a base. That part was conveniently not discussed on the tour.
Interestingly, on the way to the tunnels, we saw a team of British people searching for mines in the land right along side the road. I was pretty surprised that some 30 years later, there is still a need to search for land mines -- particularly, because this was an area some 15 meters away from the side of a road leading to a major tourist attraction. I would have thought that if there were still any mines left, they would only be in remote locations.
Anyway, after going to the tunnels, Marcella and I set about trying to make our way back to Hue (which was about100 km to the south). We had been promised by the tour operator that someone would pick us up from the nearby town of Dong Ha and take us back to Hue. But, that's not quite how things worked out. First, we were taken to a restaurant in Dong Ha and told to eat lunch and wait for someone to pick us up. Then, someone took us on a moto from the restaurant to the bus station.
At the bus station, we were shuffled onto a local bus. "Bus" is a generous word. It was actually a beat up mini-van smelling vaguely of stale urine. We climbed on board and waited for the bus to head back. Strange experience.
While we were waiting, the woman in front of us kept eating things, and then tossing the leftovers and various food trash out the window. Then, she pulled out a glass cup that looked like chocolate milk on ice -- but with vegetables floating in it. She offered up a sip of the milky brown concoction to us, and we declined. When we refused her offer, she frowned, and pinched my arm.
I forgot to mention that the busyard also reaked of urine. I got the brilliant idea -- from watching Silence of the Lambs -- that I would smear some Tiger Balm under my nose to stifle the smell. I had no prior exposure to Tiger Balm, but it's apparently well-known in these parts and among certain Western tourists. I have no idea what it actually is, but it kind of smells like Vick's and supposedly has similar healing qualities (except with green Tiger packaging). Hence, my idea to smear the stuff under my nose to block out the icchy smells. But, my skin started burning like crazy after I put on some of the balm, so I was then furiously rubbing off theTiger Balm. And, then, the crazy woman in front of me -- she of the goofy food and chocolate milk veggie shake -- complained (via pantomime) about the smell of the Tiger Balm.
Soon enough, we were on our way, smooshed into the van. Where I was sitting had no leg space, so, although I was the tallest person on the bus, I was literally squatting on the seat, my knees poking into the seat of the crazy woman in front of me. (She, incidentally, had her feet stretched out and was lounging in the spacious front row.) Instead of daydreaming about ice, I found myself wondering about deep vein thrombosis and how long that tv journalist was cramped into the tank in Iraq before he died.
The bus was kind of a local run, and was constantly on the lookout for new passengers. So, every time we came close to what could be described as a residential area, it slowed down to a crawl and laid on the horn. This went on for the whole trip -- some 75 km. We picked up and dropped off various people along the way. Eventually, Marcella convinced them to rearrange so that I ended up in a seat with leg space (love Marcella).
We stopped on the outskirts of Hue briefly, for some reason I can't figure out. But, as soon as we pulled into the bus station, a horde of men started running after our bus and shouting. When the bus stopped, we realized that many of the men seemed to be shouting at Marcella and I, trying to convince us to take a moto ride from them. Some of the men started sticking their hands through the open windows of the van, and the people on the bus shut the windows, resulting in many dirty looks and stares from the men outside the van.
A few minutes later, we were in Hue. Our arrival was mostly uneventful, except for a small incident with the woman sitting behind me. When we got close to the bus station, she started climbing over our seat, and pushed me out of the way so that she could be in our row of the van. When we arrived at the station, the door opened, and I tried to get out. No sooner had I leaned forward towards the door, then the 90-lb woman from the backseat pushed me out of the way and literally scurried across my lap so that she could leave the van before me, rather than wait ten seconds for me to go first. Meanwhile, the people on the van started yelling at Marcella and I to get out of the bus because apparently we had not left fast enough.
Anyway, we made it back to Hue in one piece (with no apparent Deep Vein Thrombosis) and even squeezed in a short visit to some royal tombs. Yesterday, we left Hue for Hanoi, where we'll be for the next few days. So far, Hanoi seems pretty cool.
Monday morning, Marcella and I got up at the crack of dawn to take a half day tour of the DMZ and surrounding areas. The border between N. and S. Vietnam was at the Ben Hai River (technically the 17th parallel). The DMZ was created in the 1950's, and if I understand correctly, is basically a 5 km stretch on either side of the river. I can't say what the DMZ looked like during the Vietnam War, but now it's just an area full of rice paddies. You can't really tell when you are entering or leaving the area, and there's nothing really to see in the DMZ itself.
But, we also visited the Vinh Moc tunnels, just over the border in North Vietnam. The Viet Cong created several kilometers of underground tunnels as a base during the Vietnam War. The tunnels go something like 23 meters underground, and were pretty complex (also pretty narrow). Eventually, village people came to spend time in the tunnels, and more than one baby was even born there. It's interesting though. Our Vietnamese guide kept emphasizing how the tunnels were civilian tunnels, and the museum at the tunnels showed pictures of all the babies that were born and the movies that were shown inside, etc. But, picking up one of my guide books, the first thing you read is that the tunnels were built and used by the VC as a base. That part was conveniently not discussed on the tour.
Interestingly, on the way to the tunnels, we saw a team of British people searching for mines in the land right along side the road. I was pretty surprised that some 30 years later, there is still a need to search for land mines -- particularly, because this was an area some 15 meters away from the side of a road leading to a major tourist attraction. I would have thought that if there were still any mines left, they would only be in remote locations.
Anyway, after going to the tunnels, Marcella and I set about trying to make our way back to Hue (which was about100 km to the south). We had been promised by the tour operator that someone would pick us up from the nearby town of Dong Ha and take us back to Hue. But, that's not quite how things worked out. First, we were taken to a restaurant in Dong Ha and told to eat lunch and wait for someone to pick us up. Then, someone took us on a moto from the restaurant to the bus station.
At the bus station, we were shuffled onto a local bus. "Bus" is a generous word. It was actually a beat up mini-van smelling vaguely of stale urine. We climbed on board and waited for the bus to head back. Strange experience.
While we were waiting, the woman in front of us kept eating things, and then tossing the leftovers and various food trash out the window. Then, she pulled out a glass cup that looked like chocolate milk on ice -- but with vegetables floating in it. She offered up a sip of the milky brown concoction to us, and we declined. When we refused her offer, she frowned, and pinched my arm.
I forgot to mention that the busyard also reaked of urine. I got the brilliant idea -- from watching Silence of the Lambs -- that I would smear some Tiger Balm under my nose to stifle the smell. I had no prior exposure to Tiger Balm, but it's apparently well-known in these parts and among certain Western tourists. I have no idea what it actually is, but it kind of smells like Vick's and supposedly has similar healing qualities (except with green Tiger packaging). Hence, my idea to smear the stuff under my nose to block out the icchy smells. But, my skin started burning like crazy after I put on some of the balm, so I was then furiously rubbing off theTiger Balm. And, then, the crazy woman in front of me -- she of the goofy food and chocolate milk veggie shake -- complained (via pantomime) about the smell of the Tiger Balm.
Soon enough, we were on our way, smooshed into the van. Where I was sitting had no leg space, so, although I was the tallest person on the bus, I was literally squatting on the seat, my knees poking into the seat of the crazy woman in front of me. (She, incidentally, had her feet stretched out and was lounging in the spacious front row.) Instead of daydreaming about ice, I found myself wondering about deep vein thrombosis and how long that tv journalist was cramped into the tank in Iraq before he died.
The bus was kind of a local run, and was constantly on the lookout for new passengers. So, every time we came close to what could be described as a residential area, it slowed down to a crawl and laid on the horn. This went on for the whole trip -- some 75 km. We picked up and dropped off various people along the way. Eventually, Marcella convinced them to rearrange so that I ended up in a seat with leg space (love Marcella).
We stopped on the outskirts of Hue briefly, for some reason I can't figure out. But, as soon as we pulled into the bus station, a horde of men started running after our bus and shouting. When the bus stopped, we realized that many of the men seemed to be shouting at Marcella and I, trying to convince us to take a moto ride from them. Some of the men started sticking their hands through the open windows of the van, and the people on the bus shut the windows, resulting in many dirty looks and stares from the men outside the van.
A few minutes later, we were in Hue. Our arrival was mostly uneventful, except for a small incident with the woman sitting behind me. When we got close to the bus station, she started climbing over our seat, and pushed me out of the way so that she could be in our row of the van. When we arrived at the station, the door opened, and I tried to get out. No sooner had I leaned forward towards the door, then the 90-lb woman from the backseat pushed me out of the way and literally scurried across my lap so that she could leave the van before me, rather than wait ten seconds for me to go first. Meanwhile, the people on the van started yelling at Marcella and I to get out of the bus because apparently we had not left fast enough.
Anyway, we made it back to Hue in one piece (with no apparent Deep Vein Thrombosis) and even squeezed in a short visit to some royal tombs. Yesterday, we left Hue for Hanoi, where we'll be for the next few days. So far, Hanoi seems pretty cool.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Ice, Ice Baby
It's so freaky-deaky hot here, that I often find my mind wandering, daydreaming about ice. Seriously, I spent the better part of a 5 hour bus ride in Cambodia fantasizing about having a drink with ice. (It's too risky to have ice here, because you don't know if it's made with purified water.) Or, a snowcone. I would probably be willing to sacrifice part of my liver or my spleen for a giant snowcone, right now. Even a little snowcone from one of those Snoopy Snowcone machines I had when I was little that ended up giving you melty water and big ice chunks instead of a crushed ice treat. Either way, I'd take it.
It's not just icey drinks that fill my head, either. I think about how much I would pay for a big block of ice, so that I could spend the afternoon sitting on it. Is two months salary too much to ask? (Heck, I have a dress made out of bathing suit material that would be just perfect for ice perching.) Or, I daydream about doing the backstroke through a pool of crushed ice, the way some people dream about diamonds. There was once an MTV Gauntlet challenge where the contestants had to melt a giant chunk of ice by sitting on it. I initially found the challenge and the contestants' methods of ice melting a little tacky -- although I did watch every single minute of the episode, probably more than once. I now think they were the luckiest goofs on the face of the earth.
Sometimes, I'll think about the places in Dubai where you can pay to ski indoors. Or, how some people in Dubai once threw a special man made winter carnival so that the local children could see snow for the first time and toss snowballs at one and other. That would be really cool. Of course, United Arab Emirates is rich beyond belief with oil, and Vietnam ... well, not so much. So, regrettably, I think the likelihood of any snowball fights in my near future is quite dubious.
I could fly back to Argentina and hang out with the icebergs again. (It would be nice to have some steak or jamon y queso, instead of noodles noodles noodles. At this point, I'm pretty much over noodles.) But, I'd want to sit on the iceberg in my bathing suit, and I think you could get tossed out of the country for those kinds of shenanigans. (Unless I pretended it was some sort of protest...Argentines love themselves a good strike or protest.)
It's not just icey drinks that fill my head, either. I think about how much I would pay for a big block of ice, so that I could spend the afternoon sitting on it. Is two months salary too much to ask? (Heck, I have a dress made out of bathing suit material that would be just perfect for ice perching.) Or, I daydream about doing the backstroke through a pool of crushed ice, the way some people dream about diamonds. There was once an MTV Gauntlet challenge where the contestants had to melt a giant chunk of ice by sitting on it. I initially found the challenge and the contestants' methods of ice melting a little tacky -- although I did watch every single minute of the episode, probably more than once. I now think they were the luckiest goofs on the face of the earth.
Sometimes, I'll think about the places in Dubai where you can pay to ski indoors. Or, how some people in Dubai once threw a special man made winter carnival so that the local children could see snow for the first time and toss snowballs at one and other. That would be really cool. Of course, United Arab Emirates is rich beyond belief with oil, and Vietnam ... well, not so much. So, regrettably, I think the likelihood of any snowball fights in my near future is quite dubious.
I could fly back to Argentina and hang out with the icebergs again. (It would be nice to have some steak or jamon y queso, instead of noodles noodles noodles. At this point, I'm pretty much over noodles.) But, I'd want to sit on the iceberg in my bathing suit, and I think you could get tossed out of the country for those kinds of shenanigans. (Unless I pretended it was some sort of protest...Argentines love themselves a good strike or protest.)
Friday, June 22, 2007
Pret a Porter (or Sashay, Chante)
Greetings from Hoi An, a quaint old city on the central coast of Vietnam, that I think may also be another UNESCO World Heritage site. (Three UNESCO world heritage sites -- ah, ah, ah, ahhhhh.) I was having problems accessing my blog since we arrived, but I think I finally figured it out.
Hoi An is famous for its tailors, so I've spent the past few days running around having things made. I'm like an addict. So far, I've had three dresses made from three different shops -- with varying outcomes. They take your measurements and you pick out the style and the fabric. Major fun. I had one knockoff of a J Crew dress made -- it turned out kind of cute, but not too exciting. (I still want the one in the catalog.) I also had a dress made out of the Hawaiian print fabric usually used for men's bathing suits. That one is interesting, as it is made to my exact measurements -- meaning, it fits like a wet suit (albeit a lovely chartreuse flowered Hawaiian print wet suit that I could wear straight from swimming in the pool to a cocktail party). I kind of love how ugly that one is. And, there's a third dress that I have to go pick up tomorrow.
But enough about dresses. Actually, I haven't done too much more than that. I dared to ride a bike into town today, which was just crazy foolish. I thought traffic in Argentina was bad, where the lanes seemed more like suggestions than requirements. But here, it's a tangled web of cars, motos, and bikes, and people only sometimes stick to the right side of the road. In that equation, bikes always lose. I thought that I was going to die by moto several times.
I think tomorrow I'm going to finally do something and see nearby attractions Marble Mountain and China Beach. (China Beach was a show that I never watched, but my college roommates loved, and now I kind of wish I had watched it...I have, however, seen Escape from Witch Mountain, which as far as I know has nothing to do with Vietnam except for the fact that Vietnam has mountains and I am going to visit one tomorrow, but that will have to do for now).
Clearly the heat has poached my brain.
Hoi An is famous for its tailors, so I've spent the past few days running around having things made. I'm like an addict. So far, I've had three dresses made from three different shops -- with varying outcomes. They take your measurements and you pick out the style and the fabric. Major fun. I had one knockoff of a J Crew dress made -- it turned out kind of cute, but not too exciting. (I still want the one in the catalog.) I also had a dress made out of the Hawaiian print fabric usually used for men's bathing suits. That one is interesting, as it is made to my exact measurements -- meaning, it fits like a wet suit (albeit a lovely chartreuse flowered Hawaiian print wet suit that I could wear straight from swimming in the pool to a cocktail party). I kind of love how ugly that one is. And, there's a third dress that I have to go pick up tomorrow.
But enough about dresses. Actually, I haven't done too much more than that. I dared to ride a bike into town today, which was just crazy foolish. I thought traffic in Argentina was bad, where the lanes seemed more like suggestions than requirements. But here, it's a tangled web of cars, motos, and bikes, and people only sometimes stick to the right side of the road. In that equation, bikes always lose. I thought that I was going to die by moto several times.
I think tomorrow I'm going to finally do something and see nearby attractions Marble Mountain and China Beach. (China Beach was a show that I never watched, but my college roommates loved, and now I kind of wish I had watched it...I have, however, seen Escape from Witch Mountain, which as far as I know has nothing to do with Vietnam except for the fact that Vietnam has mountains and I am going to visit one tomorrow, but that will have to do for now).
Clearly the heat has poached my brain.
Monday, June 18, 2007
24 Hour Party People
Barb and I made our way from the beach to Siem Reap, a trip that involved multiple tuk tuk rides, two bus companies, one annoying toddler, many strange food smells, and about ten hours on the bus.
But we're here, and today we got to see a bunch of really cool temples (including Angkor Wat), but I'm too exhausted from climbing so many steps and what not to say much about them. So instead, I'll tell you a amusing nugget from the beach.
Many of the bars and restaurants at the beach would send someone up and down the beach handing out fliers to people about their latest parties. I think the fliers are what turned us on to the bar Monkey Republic. (Sidenote: We saw pink-bottomed monkeys today, and Barb fed them mini-bananas.) But, my favorite fliers were for a bar that we never actually went to, The Dolphin Shack (or Dolphin Club, or Dolphin Room or some other beach name like that).
The first flier we got from the Dolphin Shack advertised "Free Shit Shots" at their party that night. I can only assume -- and seriously hope -- that this was a translation snafu, but I can't figure out for the life of me what they meant to write. I was even more amused when we got their flier the next day, and it advertised "Free Garlic Bread at 1 am for all the Party People."
Now, I like garlic bread as much as the next person. In fact, maybe even more than the next person. But, I've never been enticed to go to a party for free garlic bread. Nor can I imagine that so-called party people would be enticed by bread smeared with garlic. Actually, I suppose it depends upon what they mean by party people. There were an awful lot of pizza places at the beach advertising "happy pizza" -- a few bucks extra will buy you pizza with marijuana on it. I suppose free garlic bread would be a nice side to that pizza.
Needless to say, I did not partake of the pizza or the garlic bread -- or the shit shots, for that matter.
But we're here, and today we got to see a bunch of really cool temples (including Angkor Wat), but I'm too exhausted from climbing so many steps and what not to say much about them. So instead, I'll tell you a amusing nugget from the beach.
Many of the bars and restaurants at the beach would send someone up and down the beach handing out fliers to people about their latest parties. I think the fliers are what turned us on to the bar Monkey Republic. (Sidenote: We saw pink-bottomed monkeys today, and Barb fed them mini-bananas.) But, my favorite fliers were for a bar that we never actually went to, The Dolphin Shack (or Dolphin Club, or Dolphin Room or some other beach name like that).
The first flier we got from the Dolphin Shack advertised "Free Shit Shots" at their party that night. I can only assume -- and seriously hope -- that this was a translation snafu, but I can't figure out for the life of me what they meant to write. I was even more amused when we got their flier the next day, and it advertised "Free Garlic Bread at 1 am for all the Party People."
Now, I like garlic bread as much as the next person. In fact, maybe even more than the next person. But, I've never been enticed to go to a party for free garlic bread. Nor can I imagine that so-called party people would be enticed by bread smeared with garlic. Actually, I suppose it depends upon what they mean by party people. There were an awful lot of pizza places at the beach advertising "happy pizza" -- a few bucks extra will buy you pizza with marijuana on it. I suppose free garlic bread would be a nice side to that pizza.
Needless to say, I did not partake of the pizza or the garlic bread -- or the shit shots, for that matter.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Holiday in Cambodia
Greetings from Sihanoukville, Cambodia's answer to the Euro-crowded, Thai beaches. Barb and I are enjoying a few days of relaxing in the sun before we head north to check out the temples of Ankor.
The beach is beautiful, but ridiculously hot. Also, I had about a half dozen women randomly touch my legs today and cluck about my shaving habits, all in an effort to convince me to have my legs threaded on the beach. I didn't take offense after I saw them doing this to every other woman on the beach, too. And, I got off easy. Someone just yanked out thread and started trying to demonstrate on Barb.
Fun on the beach aside, the one thing that you continuously observe here in Cambodia is the pervasive poverty. For anyone who has been to an impoverished Caribbean country on vacation, imagine something ten times more dire. It's really incredibly sad, particularly since many of our interactions are with children selling things or begging for money.
Barb and I befriended one eleven-year-old girl this afternoon who was selling bracelets on the beach. Unbelievably smart, funny, and fluent in English, this girl was not in school, but spent the day going up and down the beach from person to person. (There are many other children like her.) We learned later in the day that both her parents had died, and that her five brothers were home while she was working all day. At one point, she laid down on my beach chair next to me and took a nap for a while. It was both cute and sad.
And here I thought the beach was going to be uplifting after trips earlier this week to the War Museum in Vietnam, and the Killing Fields in Cambodia (one site of Khmer Roughe genocide). Pithier stories coming soon, I promise...
In the meantime, I think it's time for a drink at the bar up the street called the Monkey Republic. (Fantastic name.) Speaking of which, yesterday I saw some monkeys randomly hanging out on a building in Phnom Penh, which I was not at all expecting. I had no idea there were monkeys here. Lizards and malaria-infested mosquitos - yes. But monkeys? I dared not imagine. A definite bonus (although I was slightly disappointed that neither monkey had on a fez).
The beach is beautiful, but ridiculously hot. Also, I had about a half dozen women randomly touch my legs today and cluck about my shaving habits, all in an effort to convince me to have my legs threaded on the beach. I didn't take offense after I saw them doing this to every other woman on the beach, too. And, I got off easy. Someone just yanked out thread and started trying to demonstrate on Barb.
Fun on the beach aside, the one thing that you continuously observe here in Cambodia is the pervasive poverty. For anyone who has been to an impoverished Caribbean country on vacation, imagine something ten times more dire. It's really incredibly sad, particularly since many of our interactions are with children selling things or begging for money.
Barb and I befriended one eleven-year-old girl this afternoon who was selling bracelets on the beach. Unbelievably smart, funny, and fluent in English, this girl was not in school, but spent the day going up and down the beach from person to person. (There are many other children like her.) We learned later in the day that both her parents had died, and that her five brothers were home while she was working all day. At one point, she laid down on my beach chair next to me and took a nap for a while. It was both cute and sad.
And here I thought the beach was going to be uplifting after trips earlier this week to the War Museum in Vietnam, and the Killing Fields in Cambodia (one site of Khmer Roughe genocide). Pithier stories coming soon, I promise...
In the meantime, I think it's time for a drink at the bar up the street called the Monkey Republic. (Fantastic name.) Speaking of which, yesterday I saw some monkeys randomly hanging out on a building in Phnom Penh, which I was not at all expecting. I had no idea there were monkeys here. Lizards and malaria-infested mosquitos - yes. But monkeys? I dared not imagine. A definite bonus (although I was slightly disappointed that neither monkey had on a fez).
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Naps (but no Apps)
Things are looking up. My luggage finally arrived yesterday, and I'm off in a few hours to meet up with Barb in Cambodia.
The time difference is really throwing me off, though. We're eleven hours ahead of the east coast US. So, right now it's really 10 am on Wednesday morning, even though I think the blog entry probably says it's 11 pm on Tuesday night.
Anyway, late Tuesday afternoon I went back to my hotel room to take a nap while the rains were a-coming, and I couldn't make myself wake up for dinner. So, I slept from 4 pm until 3 am. I've now been up since 3 am, apart from a short nap I took around 6:30 am. (I did catch an awesome made for tv movie with Melissa Joan Hart and a special about climbing Mount Everest in the middle of the night.)
I'm hoping things straighten out when I meet up with Barb. Now, those who know Barb are probably laughing a little bit, because Barb really loves to sleep. But, I think having someone else around will keep me from going to bed at 4 PM!!! (First the orthopedic walking sandals, now going to bed in the afternoon. Next, I'll be watching Lawrence Welk and complaining about my bunions.)
The time difference is really throwing me off, though. We're eleven hours ahead of the east coast US. So, right now it's really 10 am on Wednesday morning, even though I think the blog entry probably says it's 11 pm on Tuesday night.
Anyway, late Tuesday afternoon I went back to my hotel room to take a nap while the rains were a-coming, and I couldn't make myself wake up for dinner. So, I slept from 4 pm until 3 am. I've now been up since 3 am, apart from a short nap I took around 6:30 am. (I did catch an awesome made for tv movie with Melissa Joan Hart and a special about climbing Mount Everest in the middle of the night.)
I'm hoping things straighten out when I meet up with Barb. Now, those who know Barb are probably laughing a little bit, because Barb really loves to sleep. But, I think having someone else around will keep me from going to bed at 4 PM!!! (First the orthopedic walking sandals, now going to bed in the afternoon. Next, I'll be watching Lawrence Welk and complaining about my bunions.)
Monday, June 11, 2007
Good Morning Vietnam Redux
So some eight hours have passed, I've had a long nap, a beer, and a chance to talk to the luggage people. Word on the street (tr: a United Customer Service operator in New Delhi) says that my luggage made its way to Hong Kong, and supposedly arrives in Saigon yet tonight. So, my current mood -- aided much by the nap and the beer -- is one of cautious optimism.
Prior to the nap-taking, I spent the morning trying to find some clothing more appropriate for the climate and also that I hadn't been wearing for two straight days to travel. Hopefully my luggage arrives tonight, but I once went five days without luggage on a Caribbean vacation. Thus, I have learned to anticipate the worst-case scenario.
Shmanyway, two different people I talked to sent me to a large market to buy "cheap" (tr: counterfeit Polo and Lacoste) clothing. It was an interesting, if not demoralizing, experience. Problem number one is that I am an Amazon woman compared to most Vietnamese people. Yesterday on the plane to Saigon I ended up helping everyone put their bags in the overhead compartment because I was pretty much the only person who could reach without standing on the seat. Seriously -- I kid you not. Anyway, when I went to buy some t-shirts at the market, two women just said to me "too big, too big." Not exactly what any girl ever wants to hear, but particularly not when already jet lagged and devoid of any remotely clean clothing.
Another person tried to sell me some pants, but then physically blocked me into her stall when I tried to leave without buying the knock-off $20 Tommy Hilfiger linen crop pants (style: Chicos circa 1998), that were somewhat amusingly in a size XXXXXL. I had to ask her probably about 30 times to let me leave before she did, and then she called me "crazy" when I walked away. Given the six inches and umpteen pounds I had on her, I wasn't concerned physically about being trapped. But, I did not want to create a scene/commit an assault in a market in a communist country where I don't speak the language and they supposedly are fond of arresting people.
In the end, I ended up buying some t-shirts in a supermarket, and went back to the hotel to stalk the luggage people and take a nap. I'm hoping for less adventure tomorrow, and more straight-up communist propaganda. (The War Museum and Reunification Palace are on my agenda.)
Prior to the nap-taking, I spent the morning trying to find some clothing more appropriate for the climate and also that I hadn't been wearing for two straight days to travel. Hopefully my luggage arrives tonight, but I once went five days without luggage on a Caribbean vacation. Thus, I have learned to anticipate the worst-case scenario.
Shmanyway, two different people I talked to sent me to a large market to buy "cheap" (tr: counterfeit Polo and Lacoste) clothing. It was an interesting, if not demoralizing, experience. Problem number one is that I am an Amazon woman compared to most Vietnamese people. Yesterday on the plane to Saigon I ended up helping everyone put their bags in the overhead compartment because I was pretty much the only person who could reach without standing on the seat. Seriously -- I kid you not. Anyway, when I went to buy some t-shirts at the market, two women just said to me "too big, too big." Not exactly what any girl ever wants to hear, but particularly not when already jet lagged and devoid of any remotely clean clothing.
Another person tried to sell me some pants, but then physically blocked me into her stall when I tried to leave without buying the knock-off $20 Tommy Hilfiger linen crop pants (style: Chicos circa 1998), that were somewhat amusingly in a size XXXXXL. I had to ask her probably about 30 times to let me leave before she did, and then she called me "crazy" when I walked away. Given the six inches and umpteen pounds I had on her, I wasn't concerned physically about being trapped. But, I did not want to create a scene/commit an assault in a market in a communist country where I don't speak the language and they supposedly are fond of arresting people.
In the end, I ended up buying some t-shirts in a supermarket, and went back to the hotel to stalk the luggage people and take a nap. I'm hoping for less adventure tomorrow, and more straight-up communist propaganda. (The War Museum and Reunification Palace are on my agenda.)
Good Morning Vietnam!!!
After some 24+ hours traveling, I made it here. I wish I could say the same about my luggage or my sunny disposition.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
My Arm Hurts So Much I Could Barely Type All of This
Only a few days before I leave for Asia. I'm starting to get a little anxious. It might be the four shots I got that are causing my arm to feel like it's going to fall off. (In case you were concerned, I'm now protected against Hepatitis-A, Polio, Typhoid Fever, Tetanus, Diptheria, and Whooping Cough, but still vulnerable to Dengue Fever and virulent strains of TB brought onto planes by punk-ass Americans who selfishly insist on traveling despite doctor's warnings.)
I have a sense this trip is going to be very different from my time in Argentina. Already, I've been jumping through hoops to get a Vietnam visa and to book a flight from Vietnam to Cambodia. (Vietnam Air does not take credit cards, apparently.)
Minor travel anxieties aside, though, I'm pretty darn happy right now.
Tomorrow's agenda: finding sporty sandals that don't look ridiculous or like I'm in an osteoporosis commercial, and figuring out where exactly I'm going to stay when I get to Saigon on Sunday. (I'm wondering whether I have to call it Ho Chi Minh City, because Saigon is fewer words, and despite overwhelming evidence of my long-windedness to the contrary, I support using fewer words when it comes to naming cities. They Might Be Giants should write a song about that!)
I have a sense this trip is going to be very different from my time in Argentina. Already, I've been jumping through hoops to get a Vietnam visa and to book a flight from Vietnam to Cambodia. (Vietnam Air does not take credit cards, apparently.)
Minor travel anxieties aside, though, I'm pretty darn happy right now.
Tomorrow's agenda: finding sporty sandals that don't look ridiculous or like I'm in an osteoporosis commercial, and figuring out where exactly I'm going to stay when I get to Saigon on Sunday. (I'm wondering whether I have to call it Ho Chi Minh City, because Saigon is fewer words, and despite overwhelming evidence of my long-windedness to the contrary, I support using fewer words when it comes to naming cities. They Might Be Giants should write a song about that!)
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Don't Cry for Me Argentina
After much ado, I'm finally back in the U.S. I made my way out of Tierra del Fuego, and arrived home a few days ago -- although about 25 hours after I was supposed to be home.
It's been a flurry of activity since I got back. I was down in DC on Thursday and Friday getting my visa for Vietnam and seeing friends (and also having my car fixed after it decided to fall apart on Thursday -- you'd think it was made by Aerolineas Argentinas). Barb was in town doing the same thing, so we went shopping for stuff for the trip. Then, I stayed with my friends Madhu and Elin, two of the most gracious hosts ever. They always make you feel right at home -- even though when I have tried to return the favor I have managed to lock them out of my apartment in the middle of the night not once, but TWO separate times.
Right now I'm at my parents' place in Maryland until I leave for Vietnam early on Saturday morning. It's pretty relaxing out here, and I'm delighted that I don't have to try to figure out what I'm saying in Spanish before I speak. Also, it smells like honeysuckle.
I think I'm adjusting back to American culture very easily -- last night I had a dream that I was in a reality show kind of like The Amazing Race, and that I got in a fight with Donald Trump about it. I suppose you could call that a nightmare. If this is what my subconscious is thinking under so-called normal circumstances, I can't wait to see what kind of strange dreams I have once I start taking the malaria pills.
It's been a flurry of activity since I got back. I was down in DC on Thursday and Friday getting my visa for Vietnam and seeing friends (and also having my car fixed after it decided to fall apart on Thursday -- you'd think it was made by Aerolineas Argentinas). Barb was in town doing the same thing, so we went shopping for stuff for the trip. Then, I stayed with my friends Madhu and Elin, two of the most gracious hosts ever. They always make you feel right at home -- even though when I have tried to return the favor I have managed to lock them out of my apartment in the middle of the night not once, but TWO separate times.
Right now I'm at my parents' place in Maryland until I leave for Vietnam early on Saturday morning. It's pretty relaxing out here, and I'm delighted that I don't have to try to figure out what I'm saying in Spanish before I speak. Also, it smells like honeysuckle.
I think I'm adjusting back to American culture very easily -- last night I had a dream that I was in a reality show kind of like The Amazing Race, and that I got in a fight with Donald Trump about it. I suppose you could call that a nightmare. If this is what my subconscious is thinking under so-called normal circumstances, I can't wait to see what kind of strange dreams I have once I start taking the malaria pills.
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