Si Phan Don/4000 Islands

Our next stop was Vientiane…again, to pick up our Myanmar visas. Readers know my patience was wearing thin, and I couldn't have been happier to board a bus, (this one had beds!), to the 4000 islands in southern Laos. Thousands of islands, some only big enough for one small tree, rest in the Mekong. Flooding covered many of the smaller islands, but it was still very beautiful. We stayed on Don Det island, where cows, chickens, a variety other animals and rice paddies surround the guesthouses. It was different than we expected, (no actual beach, no sun, no sand), but still a lot of fun. We took a ferry, (a small motorized canoe), from the bus station on the mainland to the island, where there was SO much mud! We slipped to a nearby bungalow for $3 per night and left to explore. We planned to walk over the bridge to Don Khon, the other backpacker island next to us.  We walked on the path for some time, until it stopped being a real path and turned into mud trenches with nothing around but water buffalo. We knew this wasn’t right, but the island is small and we knew eventually we would reach the bridge–by now it would have been longer to go back. Soon the mud was so deep that we couldn’t take a step without getting suctioned in, so we took off our shoes and ran through until, in the distance, the bridge! (This was after we awkwardly shouted/acted/pointed to two farmers to make sure we were going in the right direction). We washed our feet in the river, just as it started to rain. Dirty and soaking wet we crossed the bridge, laughing and discussing how we would NEVER do this at home, and found a small restaurant to wait out the rain and fill up on rice and vegetables.

That night, we congregated with every other foreigner on the island, (so about 15 people), at Adam’s Bar. The café/bar is sheltered, but doesn’t have full walls so it feels like you’re outside. A few booths on the side leave room for a middle section filled with pillows and rugs where backpackers gather to drink Beer Lao, eat cheese toasties and watch movies every night. Indiana Jones was playing when we walked in, and the next night the bar was packed again for Slumdog Millionaire and The Beach.

The highlight of our time in Si Phan Don was our day of kayaking. We left early in the morning and kayaked to a waterfall on a nearby island. Our guide was funny, but a little crazy. He didn’t think Brianna was steering the way he liked for some reason, so he had us switch places…in the middle of the water. I climbed onto the front of his kayak, trying not to tip it, while Brianna moved to the front of ours, then I scooted back on into the rear seat. He kept going way ahead, making phone calls, smoking cigarettes…not actually guiding us anywhere. The waterfall was really pretty, then we went on a long walk to a beach. It was raining, but we got back in our kayaks for the most exciting part–the rapids! Our guide was convinced one of us would capsize, and not without reason. The waves were big! But we made it to the farther island, which was technically Cambodia. Here, we ate fried rice and watched the Irawaddy dolphins jump right in front of us. (We were so distracted trying not to tip we didn’t even see them while we were in the kayaks). The Irrawaddy dolphins live in freshwater, and in the Mekong they are critically endangered because of fisheries and degradation of their habitat. They look more like beluga whales than dolphins, and we had a lot of fun watching them bop around. Then we kayaked for what seemed like forever to the largest waterfall in Southeast Asia. Our guide told us we had an hour to look at it, but we only needed about ten minutes. We found him drinking with other guides at a roadside bar. He didn’t want to leave, so we joined them. Luckily, two guys our age, an Australian and American, joined us, as their guide was best friends with ours. After many cheers while our guide passed around a giant bottle of Beer Lao, he was finally ready to call the boat to take us back to Don Det.

The next morning we settled in for a 20-hour bus ride back to Bangkok. 

Luang Prabang, Laos

The quiet, small-town charm of Vientiane was a welcome change from Bangkok, and as we drove  toward Luang Prabang things become even more relaxed. Our 13-hour bus ride wound deep into the mountains, overlooking gorgeous landscapes of sandstone and thick forests, and we didn’t see other people for hours as we climbed higher into the peaks. Unfortunately, the rainy season and landslides created deep potholes and made for an extremely bumpy ride. With narrow roads, no railings and the bus literally bouncing in the air with every hole, we feared falling thousands of feet off the edge. “Ok if we tip right, we grab the seats in front of us and hold tight while we roll…and if we tip left toward the cliff we break the opposite side window and jump out,” Brianna and I plotted during more precarious turns. Luang Prabang, once we finally arrived, was just as beautiful as we expected. A small, quiet town with fishing villages and temples along the Mekong River, everything seemed to move at a slower pace and sunny days stretched on into arresting sunsets. The entire city is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, because of its “Outstanding example of the fusion of traditional architecture and Lao urban structures with those built by the European colonial authorities in the 19th and 20th centuries. Its unique, remarkably well-preserved townscape illustrates a key stage in the blending of these two distinct cultural traditions.” (whc.unesco.org).  Luang Prabang has more than 30 temples, so we spent our days there wandering through spectacular walls of mosaics depicting folk tales, or climbing steps to the highest temple for a perfect view at sunset. We read for hours by the river, and took a boat ride on the Mekong, stopping in a village tucked into the woods where families make paper and weave silk. Laos and Thailand are known for some of the best massages in the world, so we found a place and for $6 had an hour-long massage unlike anything at home. The masseuse pulled, elbowed and even kicked our backs, legs and arms, but nothing has ever felt so amazing!

One day, we went to Elephant Village, a camp in the jungle that works to keep elephants free from abuse while providing jobs for indigenous people in surrounding areas. The sanctuary currently supports nine elephants. Tourists can train to be mahouts, elephant trainers), or ride the elephants, and donations go toward their care and preserving the surrounding virgin river valley. Riding the elephant was so much fun! Our mahout jumped off to take our pictures, then decided we were fine and never got back on, so we clung tight as the elephant walked up rocks and through rivers doing whatever it pleased. When we returned other tourists seemed shocked to see us sitting on the elephant instead of in the seat provided, and that our guide was no longer actually guiding us. He was walking nearby, (and was obsessed with Brianna’s camera), so there was never anything to be worried about, but the others seemed confused, or maybe a bit jealous.

French bakeries, wine, elephant rides, tranquil mountain scenery and reading by the river on gorgeous sunny days…Luang Prabang is definitely one of my favorites so far! 

A day of adventure

Refreshed and ready to explore Vientiane, we set out on a hike through the city to find the Myanmar Embassy and apply for visas.

 ‘Dear Google Maps, though we love you and find your iphone mapping app superior to others, you really need to work on Southeast Asia, especially when it comes to walking directions.’ These were our sentiments as we walked two of the four miles to the embassy, only to find we were far past the “turn” on our map, (the nonexistent turn).  Walking out of our way to get back on track, we again followed our map faithfully, thinking Google couldn’t be wrong twice, as it led us down a dirt path. ‘Hm, this is strange,’ we thought. But the walking directions often lead down paths and through short cuts, so we pressed on. This path, however, led to a house and a dead end, where three dogs ran at us, barking ferociously and attacking my leg. One bit a hole in my brand new Aladdin pants!! I was furious as we trudged back down the path and found our own way on the main road. We were at our destination, according to the blue tracking dot on the map on my phone. But we were not. We were in front of the Embassy of Brunei, and next to the Embassy of Korea. It was only after asking a guard that we found the Union of Myanmar Embassy on a street around the corner. Thank you, Google, for getting us to the other side of the city and in the general right direction, but please, please, work on the details!

There was an old gate leading to the embassy, so we pushed it open and looked around. No security, only a house and a small building. After signing in we walked into the embassy’s waiting room while a pregnant woman in what looked like pajamas gave us forms. All of this seemed very unofficial and strange. She told us our passport pictures were too large, (apparently Myanmar uses a different size than the rest of the world), so we had to walk down the street and have new ones taken at a Kodak shop. Returning 15 minutes later we finished our applications and made a wish that our passports would be safe there for days while we traveled to other cities around Laos. The United States embassy has bullet proof windows and guards, but the Myanmar embassy looked as though anyone could walk in at any time and do whatever they pleased.

Musing over whether or not we would get approved, (the woman asked what we went to school for and said journalism, government and business students rarely get visas…so we said art), we took a local bus outside the city to Buddha Park.

The park, built in 1958, is filled with 200 Buddhist and Hindu statues made of stone and mosaics, all in different positions. Interestingly, a priest who incorporated Hinduism and Buddhism into his practice built the park, and another in Thailand.

Later in the day we walked to COPE, (Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Exercise), an organization that works to provide prosthetics and rehabilitation to those that cannot afford them. Most of the patients are victims of land mines. Lao, like Cambodia, was bombed extensively during and after the Vietnam War, and people still suffer today. In rural areas, children come across mines and do not know what they are, and sometimes adults try to deactivate them themselves because the parts can be sold for large sums of money. We watched a BBC film about a man who came across a landmine and ended up losing his legs, arms and one eye, meaning he could no longer provide for his already extremely poor family. COPE helped him receive prosthetic arms, improving his life and helping his family greatly. Parts of bombs are used in pots and pans, spoons, cups and other household items, so people fail to realize their danger and instead see the practical value, and end up hurting themselves in the process of deactivation. Seeing bombs used as a part of every day life is also dangerous to children, who then perceive them as normal and beneficial, and not as harmful. COPE works to educate children and families about the risks of land mines and proper precautions, and to spread word throughout the world about Laos’ enduring struggle with land mines. After harassing the poor PR woman with questions and taking pictures of everything in the museum in order to remember names and stats, we finally left right at closing time.

We made it to the Golden Stupa, (Pat That Luang Temple), just before sunset. Laos’ national symbol, the tall, shining gold spires are magnificent. The stupa holds the ashes of kings from different dynasties, as well as some monks, and is a symbol of religion and sovereignty in Laos.

At our last stop, the night market, women sell paintings, bags and dresses, while food carts wheel through the crowds hawking potato puffs, fried bananas crepes and other delicious, cheap treats. Each night market we go to is basically the same, with slight twists. Mouse ears and masses in Hanoi, fish massages in Siem Reap and lots of art in Vientiane.

Buses and Borders

Night buses. Our new favorite thing, because they save us time on our limited schedule, money on a place to stay for one night, and boredom because we can sleep and wake up in a new city or country. Night buses. Our least favorite thing, because they are not very comfortable, the roads are awful, deep sleep is never accomplished and we arrive in each new city or country slightly irritable and feeling very dirty.  They’re the cheapest, most logical option though, so we take one every week, sometimes twice. Upon boarding the night bus from Bangkok to Vientiane we were overjoyed to get the front seats on the upper deck, meaning lots of storage and leg room, and to see that the seats were more plush than others and came with blankets! The ride was going smoothly and I was about halfway through my $2 copy of Crime and Punishment when there was a loud ‘clunk’ and we slowly pulled over. The bus stopped and we peered out onto the highway below us. A man was angrily pointing to his car and yelling at our driver. “Oh my God…we hit a car,” was the collective gasp and whisper throughout the bus. We all waited, trying to get a better view, (good thing we had those prime front seats), as our driver handed the man money, to which he shook his head and made some phone calls. There were no police, no insurance companies, nothing written up. If this happened at home there would be all of the above, and someone would come on the bus and explain what was happening and give an estimated departure time. We just waited, until finally more money was handed over and our driver pulled away, not even acknowledging the incident to his amazed passengers. Then it started storming. How could we sleep in a thunderstorm, on crowded roads, with a driver who could hit something at any moment?  We managed to doze here and there before reaching the strangest border crossing yet. On the side of the road we filed out in the rain through a muddy field to a pavilion with coffee and a few picnic tables where a man and woman took all our passports and attached our visas while we huddled in small groups.  An hour later we reached a more official crossing where we showed our visas and got on a new bus to Vientiane. Due to weather, traffic and the accident, the trip took hours longer than expected, but at least we had a hostel lined up!

Our first night in Laos was uneventful. The rain didn’t let up for hours, so we napped and read and looked up activities for the next day. We did find a terrific Italian restaurant by the river for dinner though. We had read they had great pizza, but were a little skeptical. We ordered a goat cheese salad to share and a four-cheese pizza, and waited in anticipation. The salad was one of the best things we’ve had so far and we watched them make our pizza in a giant wood fire oven. We were surprised, and strangely delighted when our servers watered and resilvered between courses, (!!!). This is either a sign we’ve worked in too many restaurants, or that we get too excited over little things. The pizza was perfect and satisfied our hunger after 24 hours of buses and trudging through the rain. After this meal, we vowed to eat only Lao food the rest of our time here! 

Colors, Temples, Sweets, New Friends...Bangkok In Pictures!

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Bangkok

Bangkok by Night

Back at our hostel, Brianna and I debated how to spend our night in the city, and decided the best option was obviously the Calypso Cabaret, one of Bangkok’s finest ladyboy shows. Bangkok is known as having some of the best ladyboy shows in the world, and the most convincing transvestites. Apparently, Thai men make beautiful women because of their small features, height, and flawless skin, and Thai ladyboys are some of the highest paid sex workers in the world. Even after hearing all this, our jaws dropped as the first number started and some of the most gorgeous women we’d ever seen started singing and dancing in leotards and sequins. We watched dazzling performances from Chicago, Moulin Rouge and Marilyn Monroe impersonations. Still, it was impossible to tell that some of the performers were male. They were so pretty, and many have had sexual reassignment surgery, so it’s actually easy to see how some unsuspecting tourists find out the next morning they haven’t slept with a female prostitute after all, (Hangover 2 anyone?). Some might never even know…

Immediately after the show, our next adventure began. We attempted to find a cab to the Hilton for the amazing view from the 360 Sky Bar. But no cab drivers knew where the Hilton was. We repeated it over and over and tried to explain…”It’s a really, really big hotel…a lot of tourists stay there…the HILTON…” We got nothing but blank stares. Normally we try to have an address or map on hand for these inevitable language barriers, but we thought the Hilton was pretty popular, and huge. In our fourth cab, we sat while the driver called all his friends who spoke English and I attempted to explain to them. “The ehton?” they all asked, confused. “Yes, the Hill-ton.” Awkward silence on the other side, no matter how many friends he called. (Brianna has this on video. If anyone knows anyone, who knows anyone, who knows anyone, who knows anyone in the production or television industry, we are dying to meet them and pitch our travel show ideas. Somehow we always end up in the most ridiculous situations. Way more entertaining than An Idiot Abroad. Who gave that guy a show? Ugh. Anyway…) By cab five we were losing hope, but this time the driver pretended to know his way around, until we stopped in the highway so he could ask someone, who, shocking, had no idea. He called a friend and the same conversation ensued. “Can you look it up and tell your friend the address?” I pleaded into the receiver. “Google..?” Apparently that logic didn’t make sense, so he hung up. Finally, we called my dad in the states. His first words at hearing our dilemma: “Who doesn’t know where the Hilton is?” Our thoughts exactly! He Google mapped us, we relayed the address and we were on our way, (but not until we got out of that cab because he wanted to overcharge us, and into another one…now we’re on #6).  Still laughing that we had to call the United States to get directions in Bangkok, and having a momentary pang of appreciation for home and the quick, logical way things work there, we took the elevator up to the to 36^th floor of the Hilton, to a view worth the hassle. And then our night got even more interesting… Sipping elaborate cocktails and overlooking the city, we were soon joined by some men on business from Canada, who thought we were Australian. (We’ve gotten Australian, Swedish, English and Canadian, but people rarely think we’re American, which is strange). Finding out we were from the Midwest, they then made us feel guilty for not knowing anything about their country. In Canada, they watch US news and know everything about our politics, economy, etc, but US citizens know nothing about Canada. This is true. Brianna and I know a lot about the Middle East, and a lot about pretty much every country except Canada, which is embarrassing considering we border it.  Done lecturing, they introduced us to their friend Katy, a woman from Bangkok who went to school at UW-Madison. “Ahh I love Wisconsin!” she said. “Party now, work later! Cheers to that!” She was funny, pretty and older than we originally thought, (we think about 38, but originally though 25).  Despite her love for Madison’s party school reputation, she is very intelligent and accomplished. She got her masters and PhD from UW-Madison for Education, and then became superintendent for a large school district in Bangkok. Even more interesting is that she used to be a member of Thailand’s parliament, and we were currently in the area she represented. Now, she’s a professor. She looked so young to have done all of this already! So excited to talk about Madison and meet other UW alums, she called her brother Matt and forced him out of bed, (it was 1am), to come meet us too. (First, she pulled up a youtube video on her phone of a commercial he stars in). He went to law school at Madison, and was equally excited. It turns out Matt and Katy, (not their real names, but what they tell people to call them because their real names are so hard to pronounce), are influential in Bangkok.  The bar was closing, but Katy wanted to keep talking so she slipped the servers a tip and we got bottle service and they stayed open. 

“Now we’re going to a club!” she announced an hour later. So our group, (also including a few more people in town for business with Matt’s company), piled into cars and taxis. “You two are riding with my brother in his car,” Katy said, leading us to his Porsche. “Want to drive it?” We opted out of attempting to drive on the opposite side of the street, but happily sat on the passenger side as we sped off and talked about Wisconsin and snowstorms.  Inside the club lights flashed with loud music and throngs of people, and we danced until it closed. Matt and Katy were SO nice. When they heard we were staying in a hostel, they upgraded us to one of the nicest hotels in Bangkok, (“we have vouchers”), and told us they could get us flights for free too. The next morning, Matt sent his driver to pick us up and take us to get our India visas so we wouldn’t have to pay for a cab. For whatever political status or wealth they might have, they were some of the most laid back people I have ever met. Katy was fun and carefree, and Matt talked endlessly of bike trails in Madison and solo fishing trips in southern Thailand. They invited us to their father’s birthday party a few days later, but unfortunately due to limited time we couldn’t stay, (and didn’t get to utilize the nice hotel!).  Of all the people to randomly meet, how strange that they went to UW!

Gems, Shopping, Politics

The street we stayed on is always busy, so we spent the next morning checking out the vendors before meeting up with Baitoey again.  (Shamefully, we rejoiced at finding a Starbucks).  Today, Baitoey happily told us, we were doing more shopping.  Brianna and I were a little shocked when we arrived at a gem factory. Rows of brightly colored jewels glittered behind glass cases. ‘We cannot afford any of these,’ we thought.  We wandered through, looking yearningly at sapphires and rubies, before realizing the prices. While some of the gems were huge, and still very expensive, they were a fraction of the cost in the US.  Giant, shimmering stones were priced at 6,000 Baht, or about $200.  “These would cost thousands at Tiffany’s,” Brianna said.  The gems are so cheap because they actually cut and treat the stones right there at the factory. Jewelers in Thailand are known as some of the best in the world for the way they cut rock to ensure maximum sparkle, and they start training at around age 15.  We had heard of the infamous gem scams in Thailand, and were wary about making any purchases, but Baitoey reassured us that this gallery was legitimate. We limited ourselves to one ring each, (how can we pass up a $35 gorgeous gem that would be hundreds at home?), and vowed to not buy anything else for ourselves.  From here, we went to a much less glamorous market downtown, crowded with teenagers and young adults hitting up end of summer sales.  I stuck to my vow and didn’t break out my wallet, but it was hard. Adorable dresses for $4, nice shoes for $10, business skirts for $6….why don’t we have this at home? The market was interesting, with cheap street shops right next to nice boutiques and Baitoey said she and her mom love coming here for all their clothes shopping. We stopped in the center of  all the commotion for black jelly mixed with crushed ice and brown sugar.  I’m not sure exactly what it was, but it tasted like molasses flavored jello. I love molasses, and haven’t had it in years so this was great! After wandering around some more we grew tired of the market and went out for dinner at a Thai restaurant in a mall, where again Baitoey ordered so much food we could barely move afterward. Fish cakes, spring rolls, seafood soup, pad thai, fried pork strips, vegetable stir fry, scallops and dumplings… “But you have to try a lot of Thai food!” Baitoey kept saying.  “I will come visit you wherever you move in the US and you will do the same for me.”

Baitoey had a lot of homework, (it was exam week), so we said goodnight a little early. Thai students study a lot more than Americans. The night before, Saturday, she said she was up until 2am doing homework, and woke up at 6am to do more.  No one goes to College Library in Madison on a Saturday night! She told us how when she studied in the US she was so surprised because after school students have so much free time. In Thailand, after class students go home to study before dinner, she said. “But in the US maybe after school you can go play tag, or something. I like the US better I think.”  Baitoey absolutely loves Wisconsin, which we found funny because of all the places to travel in the United States it may be one of the prettiest, and the people are fun and nice, but it’s definitely not the most exciting. “I can’t wait to go back to Deerfield!” she said over and over.  In my opinion Deerfield is about the most boring place you can go, but she said it was the Vogel’s and the rest of the people she met that made it so wonderful.  I guess I can see that. Brianna and I studied in Irbid, Jordan last summer, which is much less exciting than Amman, but it was the shop owners, professors, hotel staff and fellow students that made us love it so much. 

On the way back to our hostel traffic was completely stopped. Bangkok is always really busy on weekends, Baitoey told us, but today there was a ceremony for a member of the Red Shirts who was killed in a fight. In very simple terms, the Red Shirts are Thailand’s opposition party, loyal to former leader Thaksin Shinawatra, and comprised mostly of working-class and rural Thais. Yellow Shirts, on the other hand, support the party currently in power, and hold more elites among them. The parties clash often through protests and in some cases acts of violence. They wear red and yellow shirts to show which party they support, and in Thailand citizens take pains to not wear these colors if they don’t want to be associated as a member or run into problems in their daily life. 

Bangkok, Thailand

We left Cambodia early Friday morning, mentally preparing ourselves for the 12 hour bus to Bangkok over coffee before we bid goodbye to our hostel owner. The bus was nicer than expected though, and only ten hours! As usual, we stopped at roadside souvenir/food stands on the way, (the drivers get commission, so everywhere we go we stop too often and for too long), and soon enough we were at the border. Immigration into Thailand took over an hour, due to lines of buses, then we were herded into groups and sorted by colored stickers. “We’re like cattle,” I said as a yellow sticker was slapped onto my sleeve, designating me in the ‘Bangkok’ group in the corner. We were led past the border to another bus…but the bus turned out to be a van, and they squished 11 of us in it, along with our bags. It looked like a family vacation from the outside, but inside we all exchanged awkward smiles, wondering how we could possibly fit.  Luckily, the ride to Bangkok was only a few hours and we were dropped off near Khaosan Rd., where tons of backpackers and tourists congregate at guesthouses and outdoor cafes and bars. We were supposed to meet Baitoey, a student who had stayed with my mom’s friend in Deerfield, but couldn’t get in contact with her, so we found a hostel and had our first Thai food.  Pad Thai…definitely better in Thailand!

Baitoey is a student at the University of Technology, so we went to meet her at her campus the next morning. She came running excitedly at us, a tiny girl in bright yellow, armed with an umbrella. She immediately began telling us about her school and parents and asking how everyone in Wisconsin was doing. She was so friendly it was like we’d known her much longer than 5 minutes. As we walked by other students, Baitoey would put her hands together and make a small bowing gesture. Seeing our confused faces she explained that younger students have to respect the senior class. She and her roommate Joy fed us coconut water and a spicy papaya salad with shrimp fried in sesame seeds, then started our tour of Bangkok.  Joy doesn’t speak English, but wanted to come along and was very sweet. Baitoey is talkative, funny and LOVES shopping. Joy thinks she shops too much…haha.

They took us to a temple where we learned how to burn incense, pray and present gifts to Buddha. We’ve been to a lot of temples, but hadn’t yet joined in the rituals. Next to the temple is a fishing village, so we took a small boat to explore. It was windy, and raining, and our little boat that was like a motorized canoe was swaying a lot. The man who owned the boat scared us when he jumped into the lake, only to show that the water, even far out in the middle, came only to his knees. Feeling safer, we continued to a river where we looked in on houses of fisherman and saw giant lizards climbing the banks. The mudskippers, (fish that breathe through their skin and can live above water for days), were really cool.  Their slimy skin blends in with the muddy earth around them as they pop in and out of holes.

Back on land, we headed to the Amphawa floating market, otherwise known as the place Brianna and Rebecca gained ten pounds in sugar. Boardwalks filled with shops stretch across the water, with bridges connecting each side and a few boat vendors too. We passed rows of colorful sweets, (some we recognized, some we never would have guessed what they were), before reaching the “restaurant” we were stopping at for lunch. It was a row of tablecloths along the side of the dock, with a boat tied to the edge where people sat grilling fresh seafood. We sat on the ground, my feet hanging over the water while we ordered fresh scallops, shrimp, squid and seafood salad, then watched them cook it before setting heaps of food on our makeshift table. This was one of the best meals we’ve had so far, and we happily peeled shrimp, (whole, with the eyes), and attempted to use our chopsticks. Actually, I’m getting a lot better at using chopsticks over the past few weeks! Though we were stuffed, Baitoey insisted Brianna and I try pad thai again, because a certain stand was supposedly the best. It was served on banana leaves with orange glass noodles in the center and the egg, greens, peanuts, sugar and spices surrounding them. You mix it together yourself, and it really was the best.  “Now it’s time for sweets!” Baitoey said. We tried homemade popsicles from a spinning ice box, ice cream, fried bananas coated in honey, suncakes, cotton candy and lastly a “taco” made of a sweet pancake shell and filled with coconut, cream and so much sugar it spilled out everywhere. Even for dessert lovers like myself, we had overdone it. “I just want you to try a lot of Thai food,” Baitoey kept saying as we protested against any more sweets. Feeling a little sick, but happy, we said goodbye to Baitoey and Joy and went back to our hostel. 

Photos from Cambodia (Phnom Penh and Siem Reap)

Cambodia

Maybe I Should Move Here...

Our next day in Siem Reap started out like the first, with a temple. Bang Mealea was farther away, but the scenery kept our attention for the two-hour tuk tuk ride, (Chamnan was our driver again!). Fields of grass and rice paddies interspersed with tropical trees and several types of cows grazed near the road. Women cooked what looked like bamboo leaves in giant pots and children waved excitedly as we passed. There were plenty of dogs and cats playing in the dirt with chickens, and even a few pigs and water buffalo. The “gas stations” especially fascinated us. People sit on the side of the road with a table of 2 liter Pepsi bottles filled with gasoline, and tuk tuk and motorbike drivers pull up, pour a bottle in under the seat and are off again in seconds.

Bang Mealea is like the temples at Angkor Wat, but hasn’t been restored, so it’s overgrown with roots and large parts of the stone have collapsed. To get through it you crawl over heaps of rocks, through windows and across ledges. The fallen stone is overgrown with moss, so it was a little slippery, but I thought this was the most interesting temple, and definitely the most fun to climb around!

Leaving the temple, Chamnan asked if we wanted to stop at the landmine museum. “Some tourists think ‘oh, it’s very interesting’ and they like it, but sometimes they say’ oh, no it is so sad’ and they do not want to go,” he told us. Of course we wanted to stop! The museum was founded by Aki Ra, a former child soldier for the Khmer Rouge who now works as a deminer.  His parents were killed by the Khmer Rouge, and he was taken into their army when he was 10-years-old.  A few years later he was captured by the Vietnamese army and fought for them. Later, because he had laid many landmines himself and knew quite a bit about them, he was hired by the United Nations to help clear them. He soon began deactivating landmines himself, and brought home children injured children in the areas he cleared. Aki Ra and his wife opened the Cambodian Landmine Museum and the accompanying orphanage, (currently home to 29), to raise awareness of the aftermath of war, still an issue still affecting Cambodians every day. (Aki Ra and his work were also featured on CNN Heroes 2010). The museum is small, holding deactivated bombs and black and white photos, but gives a lot of information. On a map of Cambodia, little red dots marking landmines fill up almost the entire country. This goes back to my previous post on Phnom Penh, detailing US involvement in dropping 2.7 million tons of bombs on Cambodia. The United States is also one of few countries that have not signed the Land Mine Treaty banning their use, (along with others like Iran, North Korea, China, Libya and Somalia). The US argument for not signing yet is that landmines are a valuable part of our strategy in security against North Korea. Though the museum is small and basic, Aki Ra and his work made an indelible impression on me.  I strongly suggest Cambodia for any travelers if you want an educational, beautiful and fun vacation. Or if you can’t make the trip you can donate to the orphanage here: http://www.cambodianselfhelpdemining.org/

After buying bracelets made by children at the orphanage, we left for the nearby silk farm, where we learned step-by-step how silk is made and how it helps preserve Cambodia's tradition. 

Grabbing ice cream after our tour, we bought one for Chamnan and took the opportunity to ask him questions we had been speculating about. How old was he? 30. Did he have kids and could we see pictures? Yes, twin girls and a boy, and yes. Does everyone learn English in school? Yes, from a very young age it is required. Do Cambodians in general like their government? Yes, the majoritylike the king and the prime minister, (more now than they used to because he’s being stronger on border conflicts with Thailand). Do Cambodians like the US? Yes, everyone wants to move there. Why/how do they possibly like the US after what we just saw in the genocide and landmine museums? At this, Chamnan just smiled and said, “It is in the past. We don’t need to think about that. Cambodian people are forgiving. We are happy and thankful for what we have now and we do not think about what has been done to us in the past. We move on.” Brianna and I must have looked skeptical. After all, it’s a pretty hard thing to forget when people are still getting injured and killed in the aftermath. “Maybe in the war the United States was not good to Cambodia, but that was a long time ago,” Chamnan said, seeing our expressions. We were impressed. It really wasn’t that long ago at all. We climbed back into the tuk tuk thinking that people at home should embody this attitude. Everyone we spoke with in Cambodia was so incredibly kind and helpful. In general it is the nicest, friendliest country we’ve been to. The population is young, because of the genocide, and the economy is growing and the country becoming more modern, (something that probably would have happened much faster and earlier had the Khmer Rouge not been in power). There is so much to do and see, the land is beautiful, the cities are advanced, the food is fantastic, the history exciting and complex, the people are lovely and the culture is unique and fascinating. I can see why the Canadian couple at our hostel uprooted themselves.. When we left, I still had so many questions and so many ideas for articles we could write if we had time to arrange interviews! One week split between two cities, and a day on a bus, was not enough… I can’t wait to come back and spend more time, hopefully soon!

Siem Reap, Cambodia

Our bus to Siem Reap was small, especially with our backpacks squished beside us, and gave us a tour of rural Cambodia, which was more of what we were originally expecting. Shacks lined the road, with thatched roofs and some held up by sticks. Children, sometimes naked, ran around outside with cows and chickens and women worked in gardens or hanging laundry. The houses looked very small, and when we could see inside they seemed to be one or two rooms, with curtains instead of doors.  The dirt road to Siem Reap was bumpy! At one point I went flying up off the seat, and almost to the ground. Men rode past piled 15 high on tractors or truck wagons, and we were stuck behind a herd of cattle for about an hour. Recent floods didn’t help the situation, and when we arrived in Siem Reap we found the flooding was even worse.  A tuk tuk driver from our hostel named Chamnan had come to pick us up though, and he soon became our new favorite person. He was quiet and kind, and not pushy like every other tuk tuk driver we’ve met. We drove through potholes and flooded streets, arriving at our hostel where we had no choice but to roll up our pants and step in the water to get inside.  We immediately liked the woman running the hostel. From Canada, she and her husband traveled on and off for seven years before deciding to buy a guesthouse, sell everything they owned and move to Cambodia. She was so helpful and organized! And for $5 per night the guesthouse was one of our favorites so far. After telling us exactly which places had the best of which local dishes, explaining what the street food was and pointing out the only fee free ATM in town, she bid us goodbye and we waded off to find dinner. The streets were crowded with people making their way along, tripping and slipping and playing in the water, or trying their best not to get wet, (impossible). By the time we reached an intersection the water was up to our knees! Despite major floods, the city was teeming with activity. We stopped at the Khmer House Restaurant and had our first real Cambodian meal–yam bake with chicken, vegetables, various spices and cheese. So delicious!

Outside, we decided to try famous fish massages. You put your feet in a tank of fish and they swarm you, nibbling the dead skin off for about 15 minutes until you emerge as though you’ve been scrubbing with a pumice stone.  It took us a minute to make the plunge, and once we did I almost had to pull my feet out. It was so ticklish! But eventually I got used to it and stopped looking down, (seeing fish eating your skin is a little disturbing). After stopping at a market for pants that we would never wear in the US (we look like Aladdin, but we’re running out of clothing to cover our knees, necessary in temples, which we go to almost every day), we sloshed our way home, stopping at a street vendor for banana pancakes on the way. Banana pancakes in Cambodia are crepes filled with bananas, chocolate, sweetened condensed milk and a lot of oil, and made to order at a street cart. They are amazing! It’s a good thing they’re not so easily accessible in the US or I would weigh 300 pounds. A little boy about five years old came up to us begging for food while we were on our way to the pancake cart. Normally, we ignore beggars, but it’s harder to ignore an underweight, adorable little boy, so we bought him a pancake. (He wasn’t so adorable the next day when we happened to see him again and he begged for food then gave us the finger when we didn’t give him any).

The next day we woke up early to visit Angkor Wat, the world’s largest temple, and the complex of temples surrounding it.  Chamnan was waiting for us and the woman running the guesthouse packed us fruit, yogurt and muesli to go, (see why we liked her?).  We went first to Banteay Srei, about an hour and a half drive by tuk tuk and one of our favorite temples because it’s the only one built from red sandstone, giving it a beautiful pink tint in the early morning light. The temples at Angkor are Hindu, (though the main temple, Angkor Wat has been converted to a Buddhist temple), and Banteay Srei is covered with elaborate carvings dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva. Next we made our way through the main circuit of temples, stopping for pictures and trying not to get harassed by women selling scarves. Each temple is unique and stunning in its own way. The Bayon, for example, has 54 towers with large faces carved on each side, and Ta Phrom was uncovered from the jungle and there are roots and trees grown into the wood and stone. (This one was fun to climb around, and my favorite!). We stopped for lunch at family run snack shop on the outskirts of the temples for stir-fry and noodles. Cambodian food is definitely my favorite of anywhere we’ve been so far! Lastly, we arrived at Angkor Wat, the largest temple and the only one still in use today. The temple is beautiful, and impressive for its size and ornate carvings, but was my least favorite because it has been restored to the point where some areas look new, and there were so many people! The entire Angkor Complex is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, stretching for 1200 square miles. We were happy to have Chamnan drive us around in his tuk tuk!

After a much needed shower, (Cambodia is very hot, and extremely humid), we went off in search of fish amok, the most famous Cambodian dish. We got a little lost looking for a market on our way, and then it started raining. The flooding was even worse today, and kids splashed and played in the area that used to be a roundabout. Throwing balls and floating along on intertubes, it reminded me of a snow day in Wisconsin. We happen to be traveling through all of Asia during the rainy season, (the only good point is prices are cheaper!), and this time we were without our handy dandy bright green ponchos. Ducking under awnings and pushing through the flooded streets as fast as we could, we finally found the market and browsed through bags, dresses and jewelry, waiting for the rain to let up. When it became clear it wasn’t stopping, we ran across the street toward the restaurant that supposedly had the best fish amok, but couldn’t find it anywhere. We asked several people, but it wasn’t until much farther down the street that someone could point us in the right direction. By now it was pouring. The restaurant we were looking for, Sugar Palm, was hidden far down a side street. When we finally showed up, dripping wet and holding bags over our heads, we were pleasantly surprised to climb a small stairway and find the charming restaurant in an old style wood beam house, with cozy lighting and an open air balcony looking out onto the rainy street below. Fish amok is fish steamed with coconut milk in banana leaves until it’s almost like a soufflé. After that, a wonderful chicken curry and spring rolls, we were happy we braved the storm! But not happy enough to walk back, especially since word had spread that the crocodile farm right near our hostel was even more flooded and they feared the crocodiles would escape. Chamnan told us this happens every year, and they eventually they catch the crocodiles…he also told us they’re huge. The thought of one lurking in the street/lake by our feet, hidden in the dark, was enough for us to find a tuk tuk back. (We made him stop at a banana pancake stand on the way!) 

But there is more to Phnom Penh!

While home to memorials of genocide, Cambodia’s capital city has a lighter side to offer too. The downtown area is spread out, with grand boulevards leading to impressive statues and colorful temples. We spent the rest of our days there wandering the streets, visiting the Wat Phnom  temple and trying a Cambodian favorite…blind massages. Massages all over Asia are ridiculously cheap, (around $5-10 for an hour compared to $80 or so at home), and all unique. The blind massages felt nice, but when we opened our eyes it was a little odd to see the masseuse not even looking at you, or feeling their way around the beds. Phnom Penh used to be called the “Pearl of Asia” and was considered the most beautiful French city in Indochina, and it's easy to see why. Each country we visit seems to be better than the last!  

History, Genocide, Realization

Walking through the Killing Fields at Choeng Ek, past mass graves and cases of skulls, a chill that won’t shake runs through my living bones.  The Khmer Rouge regime used mass graves to bury the millions murdered during its rule from 1975 to 1979. Taking power after the Cambodian Civil War, the Khmer Rouge executed anyone who disagreed with its policies, and everyone with ties to the former government. They also tortured and killed intellectuals and those in high professions, in order to squash questioning or revolution. Ethnic minorities including Thai, Vietnamese, Cham, (the muslim minority), Christians, and Buddhist monks were another target. With executions, starvation, torture and disease, the genocide killed between 1.7 and 2.5 million people, according to the Genocide Studies Program at Yale University. That’s about one quarter of the entire population, (7-8 million at the time), and puts Pol Pot, the leader of the Khmer Rouge, right up there with Hitler. Makeshift signs describe each area of the memorial. First victims would be brought in truckloads from the prison and told they were going to a new home. Here, the Khmer Rouge soldiers would beat child victims with shovels and pickaxes. Adults were also beaten or beheaded, and some were buried alive. A tree with a speaker, helped hide the victims’ screams from workers in nearby fields. It’s hard to imagine such horror taking place without anyone knowing, especially because there were 20,000 gravesites across the country. It is common to see bones floating to the top of the soil after heavy rains, and in the memorial there are collections of clothing and skulls that have resurfaced over time.

The Toul Sleng Genocide Museum, formerly Security Prison 21, is equally haunting. The building was originally a high school, but the Khmer Rouge turned it into a torture and interrogation center. Those thought to be against the government, or minorities, were taken to the prison and tortured until they gave up family members or friends, who were then also arrested. Often, children were tortured in front of parents until they confessed loyalty to the old regime. Eventually, Pol Pot turned against his own party and became a manic killing machine, taking his paranoia of being overthrown out on his highest officials and arresting them for espionage. Prisoner estimates range from 17,000 to 20,000.  We looked into cells barely big enough to stand in, and examined torture mechanisms left since 1979. Prisoners were chained to the bed and beaten with shovels or whipped with metal rods full of spikes. They had their fingernails ripped out, and were hung upside down in a bucket of water with their hands tied to the bottom. There were many other techniques, including waterboarding and electric fire, and prisoners routinely confessed their loyalty to the opposing party, or if innocent, made up stories and confessions to stop torture.

There was a list of rules for prisoners, and all who disobeyed were severely punished, including infants. The rules were as follows:

1. You must answer accordingly to my questions. Do not turn them away.

2. Don’t try to hide the facts by making pretexts this and that, you are strictly prohibited to contest me.

3. Don’t be a fool for you are a chap who dare to thwart the revolution.

4. You must immediately answer my questions without wasting time to reflect.

5. Don’t tell me either about your immoralities or the essence of the revolution.

6. While getting lashes or electrification you must not cry at all.

7. Do nothing, sit still and wait for my orders. If there is no order, keep quiet. When I ask you to do something you must do it right away without protesting.

8. Don’t make pretext about Kampuchea Krom in order to hide your secret or traitor.

9. If you don’t follow all the above rules, you shall get many lashes of electric wire.

10. If you disobey any point of my regulations you shall get either ten lashes or five shocks of electric discharge.

After days or months at the camp, prisoners would be taken to the killing fields. Of all the victims, there were only seven survivors, two of whom are alive today.

Like any power hungry, paranoid maniac, (Hitler, Muammar Gaddafi), Pol Pot’s inner workings are hard to fathom. What’s harder to understand is why the United States supported his regime. The United States dropped 2.7 million tons of bombs on Cambodia between 1965 and 1973. During the Clinton administration, in an attempt to find and deactivate land mines, new information was released showing the bombings to be much more extensive than previously thought. "To put the revised total 2, 756, 941 tons into perspective, the allies dropped just over 2 million tons of bombs during all of World War II, including the bombs that struck Hiroshima and Nagasaki: 15,000 and 20,000 tons, respectively. Cambodia may well be the most heavily bombed country in history," write Ben Kiernan and Taylor Owen, ("Bombs Over Cambodia" The Walrus (Canada), Oct. 2006, pp. 62-69).  This helped the Khmer Rouge grow in power, because those who lost family joined their revolution. (Keep in mind 2.7 million only counts bombs dropped by the United States. There were millions more and the Cambodian Mine Action Center estimates 4-6 million still remain active in Cambodia, causing immediate harm to farmers and others in rural areas). The United States sided with Pol Pot’s government to overthrow the Vietnamese in Cambodia, as we had just lost the Vietnam War. Once Vietnam invaded Cambodia, the US assisted Khmer Rouge guerrillas on the border of Thailand. China was another big supporter. After years of border conflicts, Cambodia and Vietnam had no real relations, and in December 1978 Pol Pot invaded Vietnam, fearing they would attack Cambodia first. However, Cambodian forces were expelled from Vietnam, and Vietnamese armed forces then captured Phnom Penh in Cambodia in 1979.  By this time, members of the Khmer Rouge were defecting and assisting the Vietnamese. The Khmer Rouge was basically finished, and a new government formed, called the People’s Republic of Kampuchea. The Khmer Rouge, trying to maintain some legitimacy, fled west to the Thai border where they controlled small areas for ten more years, surviving only on aid from China and timber smuggling. Though no longer the ruling body in Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge it was still recognized as the legitimate government by The United States and other western countries.  Vietnamese troops discovered the security prisons and killing fields, yet despite realization and horror across the world, the Khmer Rouge, (later under the title Democratic Kampuchea), retained a seat in the UN until 1993. Though Vietnam and Cambodia were victorious, the United States, along with China and the ASEAN countries, sponsored Pol Pot’s government in exile. Throughout the 1980s, millions of landmines were planted along the western part of the country. The Khmer Rouge was the strongest rebel group in Cambodia, and the U.S. provided extensive military aid. In 1989,once the new government was stable, Vietnam left Cambodia. The new government, (though still not recognized by western countries), and the Khmer rouge continued to fight until 1996, when about 4000 Khmer Rouge soldiers defected. After factional fighting, Pol Pot was finally imprisoned by his own party.  In 1998, the remaining members of the Khmer Rouge apologized for the genocide and in 1999 they surrendered.

The confusing part is that today the United States funds groups to save children from landmines, provides clean water to families and there are a hundred other US funded humanitarian efforts throughout the country. But, we were/are a big part of the reason children are still killed in land mine accidents. With a quarter of the population killed during the genocide, focusing on the best and brightest, we are part of the reason the country is lagging economically today. They’re behind because they had to start over only 20 years ago. 1980 is very recent. The Untied States is built on freedom and bringing democracy to the rest of the world, yet we support oppressive regimes that are anything but democratic. The US hated communism and waged a war in Vietnam over it, then sided with China, the biggest communist country in the world, in supporting the Khmer Rouge. We condemned Hitler, yet supported Pol Pot because we didn’t like Vietnam at the time. In the 1980s we supported the Taliban in order to drive the Soviet Union out of Afghanistan. More recently, we helped overthrow a tyrannical regime in Libya, (as we should have), yet barely batted an eyelash when protests broke out in Bahrain, a strong Gulf ally. I understand that international politics are complicated and cannot always be honorable. However, it seems we would be better liked across the world, and have more money ourselves if we supported governments that support their people, and didn’t spend billions on bombs and attacks only to spend billions more years later rebuilding the same areas and communities we helped destroy.  

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Border crossings across the world are always interesting, though in our experiences fairly uneventful, and Cambodia was no different. Before leaving Vietnam we lugged our backpacks around Ho Chi Minh City for a good two hours, (we really need to throw stuff out, but what?). The bus station our taxi took us to was the wrong one, so we walked to the correct station, walked to get lunch while we waited for them to reopen after the mid-day break, walked back and then walked for what felt like miles to go back past the original station we started at to the pick up spot for the correct bus. Sound confusing? It was. Dripping and aching we set down our packs and made friends with some Cambodians in Vietnam for business, then piled into the bus and got comfortable for six hours of blaring music videos and semi-reckless driving. At the border we were dropped off at the Vietnam departure station and quickly had our fingerprints verified. Then we got back on the bus, drove 100 yards to cross the border and got out again at Cambodian arrivals. After verifying our e-visas we were back on the bus and on our way to Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital. At a river crossing, two small boys missing limbs crawled on the bus and started speaking Khmer, their big eyes sad and empty. As they sat on the floor of the bus, one without arms holding a sack for money, the bus became quiet, sad and uncomfortable. (There are an estimated 40,000 amputees in Cambodia because of landmines, the highest number of any country in the world). Ignoring homeless or disabled beggars is hard enough as it is without them being small children. 

Shortly after, our bus pulled up to rows of tuk tuk drivers waiting to whisk us to our hostel. Luckily, we had one arranged through our guesthouse so we didn’t have to haggle for a fair price or deal with explaining an address. A tuk tuk is a motorbike with a carriage attached to the back wheel.  While they are used in many developing cities around Asia, India and Africa, it is the most common form of transportation for both visitors and locals in Cambodia. They’re fun to drive around in too. You get the breeze and thrill of scenery flying by, without the fear or danger of the motorbikes. Zipping through Phnom Penh our first night we were surprised at the ornate buildings, vibrant lights and modernity of the city. We expected Cambodia to be the most rural, least modern place we would visit in Asia, but driving by the US Embassy, (the flag at half mast the only sign this half of the world that it was the tenth anniversary of September 11th), we could have been in any American city. We were even more surprised to go to an ATM five minutes later and receive US dollars, the currency most used in Cambodia, and even more shocked to find almost everyone speaks perfect English. From taxi drivers to street vendors to government workers, everyone learns English in school. Looked like this was going to be an easy week for us! 

Photos from Vietnam!

Vietnam, (Hanoi, Halong Bay, Ho Chi Minh City)

Random Notes on Vietnam

Crossing the street here goes against all instinct. Look both ways, see throngs of vehicles coming at you, and walk into them. If you wait for a break in traffic you’ll wait all day, so you put aside everything that feels natural, cross your fingers and step off the curb. Motorbikes swerve around you and in front of you but don't slow down. Buses honk, and in that case you stop in the middle of the road and wait while cars merge around you. Turning vehicles absolutely do not yield to pedestrians, and it’s up to you to pause mid-step for motorbikes, not the other way around. It still doesn’t make sense to me and I’m amazed more people don’t get hit, but I’m getting better at striding into traffic without hesitation. And the traffic is intense. Six million motorbikes for a city of 10 million means the streets are flooded with them. Honda and Suzuki are making a killing here. Sidewalks exist, but are used for parking and makeshift restaurants, so we end up walking single file in the road, inching past fruit carts and balloon salesmen. We’re also in the small percentage of women that don’t wear a mouth covering, like the face masks doctors wear, but decorated with animals and patterns. We were perplexed by this for days. Are they blocking the sun? But then we saw them at night. Is it because of the recent bird flu outbreak? We were about to buy our own  if that was the case. Men wear them too, and it turns out they’re because of air pollution. This is smart, but it’s interesting to us because the air here really doesn’t seem that polluted and in general Vietnam seems cleaner than many other countries.

Lastly, the people are extremely friendly and helpful. More than anywhere else I’ve ever visited, (except maybe Jordan). I can’t wait to come back someday and spend more time touring other cities! 

Hanoi, Vietnam

We were bracing ourselves to be disappointed after leaving Saigon, but found Hanoi, Vietnam's capital city, to be very similar, (even though we'd heard reports otherwise). Our hostel in the Old Quarter was our favorite so far. The staff is SO friendly, and the rooms rival any hotel we've stayed in. Our first day we slept until 11am, (in our defense our flight didn't get in until 2am and we were behind on sleep), and the front desk called to tell us breakfast was ending so we should hurry down and they would extend it because it was our first day. We're obsessed with the breakfast here, mainly because it's the only time we've had fried eggs, toast, cheese and jelly prepared exactly how we make it at home. After breakfast, we were in our room reading the news and slowly getting ready when one of the hostel employees knocked. "Fruit of the day!" she said, handing us a plate of what we discovered was longan fruit. (The night we arrived we had pears). Any place that drops off food daily is great with us.

We spent our first afternoon strolling around Hoan Kiem Lake, a peaceful area made more interesting by the Ngoc Son Temple. The colorful temple is dedicated to Tran Hung Dao, a Vietnamese hero who defeated a force of 300,000 Mongol invaders. It is incredibly hot and humid here, with heat indexes in the low 100s, so we went in search of the famous Water Puppet Show.  Promising Brianna that puppets can be fun, and selling her on the air conditioned theater, we bought tickets and were rushed into the already beginning performance.  The puppet show was fascinating, fun and strange...something my mom would have gone crazy for. A small group of performers sing Vietnamese folk tales and play instruments, while wooden puppets act them out in a pool of water. The puppets are amazing–brightly painted animals, men and women–and the puppeteers are great at what they do. I couldn't figure out how they were making the puppets dance, jump through hoops of fire and fight from behind a screen far from the water. The puppets were on some kind of cord/stick, but it seemed hard!  Leaving with me happy and Brianna looking disturbed, we saw that it was downpouring. Masses of people swarmed under the awning of the cafe attached to the theater, so we grabbed a seat while we could and got coffee.
When it became obvious the rain wasn't letting up anytime soon, we ventured out to a cab and went to the nearest movie theater.  Fellow Americans: We are getting ripped off! I don't know if I can ever go to a movie again in the US without feeling pain when I take out my wallet. Tickets for Just Friends were $3, and popcorn AND soda was $3.50.  That's like 1/4 of the cost of a nighttime movie experience in Madison.  (Also, we were happier than we should have been that the movie was in English).
In search of dinner, we stopped at a restaurant near our hostel and made a huge mistake...we ordered off the "western" portion of the menu. Caprese salad was a bowl of mushy tomatoes with some cheese on top and a thick balsamic-like dressing. When we didn't eat it, our waiter questioned us incessantly. "Was it not good?" "Why still left?" We stammered an excuse, but he didn't stop. Finally he turned the conversation to traveling and how much he hates and wants to leave Vietnam, which was interesting. He was about our age and so far the only person we've met who doesn't like it here. When he started asking for Canadian coins, (Brianna and I are Canadian, by the way), even we couldn't make up any more excuses and we hurriedly paid the bill and left.
Friday we took a day trip with a small tour bus to Halong Bay, or "Descending Dragon Bay." A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the bay is famous for it's limestone caves and islands. We took a bus for four hours to reach it, then a boat. The bay is gorgeous, and we sailed by many monolithic islands and several fishing villages. "See those kids? That's the school," our guide said pointing to a small hut floating in the bay, anchored somehow and tied to surrounding houses. This was so interesting! About 1600 people live in Halong Bay on floating villages, surviving on marine agriculture and fishing.  What a different life than ours, we thought. How do they meet new people? Don't they get bored without being able to walk around a city or do new things? What about when it storms?!
We had a fantastic seafood feast on the boat, then jumped into a kayak ready to explore caves and inlets. Once away from the boat Brianna mentioned she had never kayaked before...and I'm no expert...perfect. We did pretty well for ourselves though and covered a substantial amount of water in the half hour allotted us, then our group took a trip through "Heaven Cave," named for the crack at the top opening up to the sky. There are huge stalactites and stalagmites throughout the cave, each looking like different mythical creatures, at least in our guide's mind. Back at our hostel later that night we were determined to not repeat our dinner from the night before. The man at the front desk recommended a nice authentic restaurant where we ordered fried fish, spring rolls and a corn dish. Our server handed us rice paper, and seeing our confused looks demonstrated. You take the greens, carrots and dill served with the fish and place in in the paper, then add a piece of fish, roll it up and dip it in the sauce. The fish was fresh and delicious, but the vegetables and everything else had a hint of wasabi on them, which isn't my favorite.
Today, our last day in Hanoi, we went on a long walk through the city to find lunch, commenting on how much we like Vietnam and hope we like everywhere else just as much. After lunch we thought it was necessary we try mooncake, a huge hit here. Kinh doh, the biggest brand, is everywhere here and we wanted to know what all the crowds were about. Well, we still don't get it, because after two bites we threw ours out. A center ball of lotus seed paste, (also containing yolk from salted duck eggs), symbolizes the full moon, tastes like acidic powder, and is surrounded by a bad fruit cake. I normally love pastries of any kind, so this was shocking.
Entering an art gallery to recover, we found some nice paintings for only $6...and then our shopping spree began. Silk scarves and wallets, new tank tops, shorts, even underwear...but can you really call it a shopping spree when you're at an outdoor night market and nothing is more than $5? The night market is crazy, like a giant carnival. Men walk through the masses with cotton candy and huge balls of balloons, women dress up and wear various animal ears and masks, and children ride above it all on their parents shoulders in amazement.

The excitement was contagious, and soon Brianna and I were trying on our own masks and pushing through the crowds. I can't believe this happens every night! It seems like at some point it would get less crowded or people would get bored of getting stepped on and shouting every weekend...but I guess we never get bored of yelling and dancing at the same bars every weekend in Madison. (Or we do get bored, so we leave to travel for months).
Breathless after fighting our way to a side street, a mini photo shoot with giggling teenagers, (I really might need to dye my hair), and eyes burning from so many bright colors, we made our way back to our hostel for our flight back to Saigon the next day.

Beauty, Coffee, War. Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Sitting in the airport in Ho Chi Minh City, preparing to take off for Hanoi, this is the first time I’ve wished we could stay somewhere a little longer. Vietnam is so far my favorite destination and there’s something about Saigon I really like. It’s busy and not very clean, but the people are friendly, the buildings bright and quirky and there’s a nice blend of modern and cultural. It’s very charming. Like…Old French meets the 60s meets Vietnamese tradition meets New York City. The French bakeries and ridiculously cheap prices don’t hurt either.

We arrived late Monday night and immediately got ripped off by a cab driver who refused to give us correct change, even when confronted by an employee at our hostel. The family that owns the hostel we stayed in felt horrible, and gave us a lesson on money…things are priced in thousands, just like in Indonesia, so all of the zeros can get overwhelming, she told us. That wasn’t the problem, but it was a nice gesture.

Tuesday, Brianna was feeling sick, (finally we’re both better!), so we slept in and eventually made our way to the Notre Dame Cathedral and sat in a nearby park. Many businesses close for a few hours during lunch, so there were students and others chatting and sipping drinks all around us. For a city of 10 million, (and six million motorbikes!), Saigon seems very relaxed. We meandered down what our hostel owner called “richest street,” looking in on designer stores and watching the street vendors around us. At the end of the street we came to the Saigon River, which we overlooked from the roof of the gorgeous, historical Majestic Hotel. 

We ordered drinks on the roof and I found my new obsession. Vietnamese coffee is strong, flavorful and almost thick, like espresso. In other words, it’s amazing. Imagine the strongest coffee you’ve ever had times five, and with a unique nutty flavor. Brianna took a miniature sip and went back to her smoothie with a pinched face and gagging noise, deeming me crazy for liking such a thing. The best part is it’s served with it’s own personal brewing system. They place a little silver pot of grounds and hot water over a silver plate with small holes in it, and put that on top of your cup. Then you wait for it to brew. “Only in Vietnam we have this,” our waiter said proudly. I want to buy one but my backpack is already bursting.

Refreshed, we walked across the city to the Reunification Palace, home of the President of South Vietnam during the Vietnam War. The war ended when the North Vietnamese Army drove a tank through the front gate of the palace, and a replica of the tank sits in front. We toured the palace, which was also used as a work place for the president and South Vietnamese Army. The basement is painted an eerie seafoam green and the hallways were windy and narrow, leading to control rooms in the basement that are supposedly untouched since the war. It was interesting, and kind of crazy to imagine people actually using the radios and other devices. The rest of the palace was a lot prettier, if not a little strange. The living room is decorated in 1960s art deco style, while the dining rooms look much more classic and what you would expect from a palace…then there’s a movie theater and pool table.

Next door is the War Remnants Museum, which left us feeling terrible and guilty. Inside, we read stories and saw pictures of victims of Agent Orange. The disabilities are heart wrenching, especially because the effects carry on for generations. Women today are still advised not to have children for fear they’ll be born with a birth defect due to the chemicals. After reading a letter from one such woman our age, recently written to President Obama, we were amazed everyone here is so friendly toward us.  Throughout our lives we’ve learned a lot about the Vietnam War and the protests against it in the United States, but nothing we learned prepared us for the anecdotes in the museum, or for seeing people everywhere on the street here with missing limbs and other disabilities. Feeling not so proud to be American, we walked in silence and horrified thought.

Eventually, we found a place for dinner and started to resume our usual banter, now turned toward our adorable waiter who looked about 14-years-old and terrified to be serving us. I don’t remember the name of the restaurant, but we had the most delicious creamy pumpkin soup. Probably the best thing we’ve had so far, (although the pastries at the French bakery by our hostel were a close second).

On day #2 in Ho Chi Minh City we woke up early for a cheap bus tour we found to the Cu Chi Tunnels, about an hour outside the city. The tunnels were used by the Viet Cong  during the Vietnam War, and their guerilla tactics and intricate network extending for miles is what ultimately caused American forces to withdraw and the war to end. Weaving through a large part of the country, the tunnels are definitely impressive. The Viet Cong lived in them, which must have been difficult, staying underground for as long as possible and only venturing out for supplies. The three levels of the tunnels range from three meters to 12 meters deep, each more narrow than the last. Wiggling our way through them I couldn’t imagine staying in one for any extended amount of time. They are so narrow and dark! By the second level you’re crawling because there’s no room, (and this is after they’ve enlarged them for Western tourists…seriously). Definitely not for claustrophobic visitors. We also saw different types of traps used for catching American and North Vietnamese Soldiers.  They were creative in a very disturbing way…metal spikes spinning and trapping your body as you fall through a hole, trap doors ending on floors of more spikes…basically every trap was a different wood/metal spike/falling contraption. Our guide, who thought he was hilarious as all tour guides do, kept trying to get us to try them. “Ladies first!”

After the tunnels we explored Ben Tanh market where we found cheap sunglasses and wallets, then we rewarded our stomachs for finally not being sick with an Italian feast.

Bored waiting for our delayed flight to Hanoi, Brianna and I decided to get our hair washed, (famous in Vietnam), and surprised ourselves by getting haircuts at the last minute too. This was an extremely adventurous move. If you know us, we love our hair. Brianna’s lush, dark waves, and my long, very blond tresses are our prized possessions. My hair is very finicky, and therefore I am very picky when it comes to getting it cut or styled, and I am terrified of hair dye. Yet, somehow, there we were in a tiny salon off a side street, sitting in spinning chairs with capes secured around our necks. There was no turning back. “I just want the ends trimmed,” I tried to explain. “I have a lot of layers, and I like them, and don’t want them short…just a tiny bit.” Then she started cutting, and shearing, and thinning. She seemed to know what she was doing, moving more quickly than any other hairstylist I’ve ever had and ruthlessly cut off inches and razored away thicker spots. She did a good job. She really did. The layers are nice and even and my bangs look good. But it is so thin! Vietnamese women do not have thick hair, so I don’t know if she was trying to make it like that so the layers would fall like theirs, or what she was thinking, but my hairband goes around my ponytail three times instead of two now, and it’s like five inches shorter. Good thing it has a few months to grow before I get back and can have my regular stylist do something to it. They washed my hair after cutting it, and it was easy to see why it’s famous here. They shampoo your hair three times, and give an amazing head, neck and ear massage. The women working at the salon were funny, and so sweet. Only two spoke English, so they kept translating for the others. “How do you color your hair?” the girl washing mine asked. When I said I didn’t she got excited and called over another. “We were all wondering!” she said. Later, they kept telling us how beautiful our hair and skin was, which was really nice of them, especially because we think on this trip we’ve looked pretty grimy and like, well, we’ve been living out of a backpack. “We all keep talking about it!” they said. It’s strange not knowing the language and realizing an hour later people have been talking about us the entire time while we were unknowingly giving each other horrified/amused looks as our new styles took shape. Brianna got her hair washed first, and seeing my layers when she was done she made it even more clear she wanted only a trim. “Not like hers!” were her exact words. After pictures with the girls at the salon we were off for ice cream and finally our flight to Hanoi. 

Photos from Indonesia

Indonesia

Adventures in Bali

Arriving in Bali Wednesday night, we found that our hostel was farther away than it looked on the map. “About 2, maybe three hours from here, big price,” we were told by every airport taxi. Or…maybe they were just trying to rip us off.  So we abandoned the airport taxis in search of regular ones. Only, the airport was bigger than it looked…and not near anything except highways. Seeing a hotel connected to the airport, we thought maybe they could call us a normal cab, but it didn’t look open. So, logically, we stormed into the police station next door, flung our backpacks on chairs and expressed the extreme urgency of our dilemma. Amused, they sat us down and introduced themselves. They must have been bored, or just thought we were really entertaining, because instead of calling a taxi they chatted for an hour, and more officers kept showing up. Soon there was food and Love Bug on TV and apparently we were having a party. The food was actually some of the best we’d had in Indonesia so far. It was rice, chicken and a spicy sauce wrapped in leaves, and you eat it with your hands. One of the officers came into the station, saw us eating and exclaimed, “I have never seen this before! I have to take a photo!” Just because we look very American doesn’t mean we can’t adapt. J He then became obsessed with Brianna’s eyebrows and kept trying to convince her to take up Balinese dancing. It was time to leave. We ended up driving with one of their friends…who drives an airport taxi…meaning we made no progress and still had to pay more than we should have. At least we got free dinner.

Our hostel was at Soka Beach, and without any traffic only took an hour to get to. We were led to our bungalow at 1am and fell asleep immediately. In the morning we got breakfast at the restaurant there, then got ready for a day at the beach! The view was very pretty, with waves crashing over giant black rocks onto the black sand beache, but the beaches were covered with fish from the fishermen next to us, and no one seemed to be basking in the sun like we’d thought they would be.  In fact, there was no one on the beach at all. We wandered for a bit, and just when we thought we had found the perfect, secluded spot for sunning, we came across a DEAD BABY COW. Yes, there, contorted in a position we can only guess means it fell from the rice paddies above us, was a brown and white baby cow. It was very small, and its fur was nice and there were no bugs. This was a recent death, and we were very disturbed. How did it possibly get from the farm by the restaurant to the beach? It was a mystery we discussed for days. We were obviously too disturbed to try to tan next to it, so we found a rock instead. Then two wild dogs came up to us. We left and did laundry. This turned out to be a family hostel, where the families sat in their bungalows all day in hiding and came out at night in herds to the restaurant. Sun bathing felt inappropriate, but beaches and boardwalks were what we had in mind for Bali. At dinner that night, I had fried chicken that over the course of the next 24 hours made me very, very ill. (It might not have been the chicken, but it was definitely something I ate). A day later, due to the food, the lack of beach, the lack of young people, and the distance from anything fun, we checked out early and checked into a hotel in Kuta, the touristy area we were originally planning to avoid.

Kuta was much better. Flocks of Australians, Europeans, and many other tourists strolled through street markets in their swimming suits sipping fruity drinks. Perfect. Except I was still sick so I huddled in bed and tried to eat anything, but couldn’t for the next day and a half.

Sunday morning we woke up early to go to Bali’s Monkey Forest, which was really fun! Hundreds of monkeys live in the forest, and they scamper every which way, climb all over you and occasionally steal your belongings. Brianna had one jump on her back for a few minutes. We went to an art market after that, but I started to feel extremely sick again, so we went back to our hotel and I slept for hours while Brianna got some reading in by the pool. Eventually I woke up, so we got massages from the sweet little lady that worked by the pool, (a full body massage was only $8).

Finally, Monday morning I was feeling better so we feasted on egg sandwiches and donuts in celebration before leaving for Vietnam. Now we’re in Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon!

Yogyakarta/Jogyakarta/Yogya/Jogya...Stop 2 in Indonesia

The eight-hour train ride from Jakarta to Yogyakarta would not have been so bad if: 1. They would have turned the lights off, or at least down. 2. They would have had some sort of heating system or thicker blankets. 3. It was quiet. However, since it was none of those things it was my least favorite part of Indonesia, and possibly the trip so far. It started out fine. The seats have a lot of legroom and aren’t too uncomfortable, and we left on time. Around 10pm I thought they might at least dim the lights, (they do on airplanes and buses), but they didn’t. And they kept showing loud Indonesian music videos. I put on headphones and attempted to sleep. Midnight rolled around and the music was still loud, the lights were still very, very bright and now it was freezing. Someone kept leaving the doors between cars open, and the train was moving very fast, meaning cold air and even more noise, only this clanging and racing noise was worse than the music. I curled into a ball. I wrapped my feet in a blanket and put on my North Face. I huddled. I did not understand. Everyone on the entire train was trying to sleep. Not one person looked like they wanted to be awake. All eyes were closed, unless opened in what I can only assume was annoyance similar to mine. So WHY would the lights and music still be on? I tried my best, but probably slept about 50 minutes if you add up every time I drifted off, only to be awoken by my body shuddering from cold.

Finally arriving at 4am, we got off the train and wandered to find a hostel. This doesn’t sound safe, but we were given a street name and told there were a lot of backpackers in this area. Sure enough, within 15 minutes of walking we found Srorojaya St, packed with hostels and tour guides and restaurants and Europeans. The hostel we chose offered cheap tours to Borobudor, the Buddhist temple we had come to see, so we booked one for the next day and left to find our own way to Prambanan, a World Heritage Site and the largest Hindu temple in Indonesia. Constructed in the 9^th century, it was built in dedication to the Trimurti, which is Brahma, (the creator), Vishna, (the sustainer), and Shiva, (the destroyer). The Trimurti is a personification of god as those functions. The temples are tall, pointed structures built of stone. With the bright early morning sun and only a few other visitors, they were peaceful and beautiful.

Later, after a nap, we found a department store with plain white t-shirts, something we wish we brought because we could wear them every day. Then, we ate in a mall food court, which is a bit shameful, but they had Internet. Avocado chocolate drinks are popular in Indonesia, so I tried one, but of course being me it had coffee in it too. It was surprisingly very good. Next, we explored Marioboro St., the main street near our hostel full people selling jewelry, clothing and trinkets. It was so crowded! We inched through and tried not to get hit by horses pulling carriages of people, very common in Yogyakarta, or rickshaws.

Our tour to Borobudor Wednesday left at 5am, so we woke up early and headed downstairs where we were met with a German student and a French couple, (the couple turned out to be extremely annoying, as they sat in the back of the tour van and made loud, smacking kissing noises every five minutes for the hour and half ride there and back). Borobudor, also a World Heritage Site, is a large Buddhist monument comprised of six square platforms with three circular ones on top. The monument is a tribute to Lord Buddha, and pilgrims follow a path around each level, circling up to the top. To reach the top, you go through the world of desire, the world of forms, and the world of formlessness, the three levels of Buddhist cosmology.

After the temple we stopped at a café near our hostel for lunch and were met with a lovely woman from Bali who was working at the restaurant for her sister. She was a little older, and joked with us about all the boys she was sure we would meet in Bali, then gave us names of everything we should do while we were there as well as her phone number. “Maybe you just call me if you need anything. I will help you. I can talk to taxi and tell them what you want. Whatever you want to do, where you want to go, just call me.” We thanked her, then asked if they served ice cream. They didn’t, but next thing we knew she was running out and then back in with ice cream she bought across the street for us. People in Indonesia, at least in our experiences are genuinely nice and helpful. Whenever we asked for directions, or had any questions, we were always greeted with smiles and laughter. Fiqy’s family opened their home to us, and now this woman we had just met was going out of her way to find us ice cream. We tipped her well and headed to Bali!