Hangin about in Hanoi
Trip Start
Jul 01, 2006
1
10
18
Trip End
Sep 20, 2006
Hanoi,
Vietnam
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Here it is, the last group email, from our travels in SE Asia. Can't believe that two and half months have already surpassed. My darling sister (...well most of the time at least, except if you dont bring her tea in bed in the morning, and during arduous bus journeys) will be flying home soon whilst I hit the full moon, half-moon, gibbous & quarter moon parties of Koa Samui and pack in a diving course on Koa Tao (the cheapest place in the world to do it) provided my ears don't pop at the 10 metre zone.
In our last travel memoirs we were fighting off cobras and happy shakes in Laos; in Vietnam its been touts and xe om (moto-bike taxis and cylo drivers). It's been a CRAZY three weeks of pungent smells, sounds (well NOISE actually), bustle and haggling
Catching a few rays on Hoi An beach
. For a communist country, Vietnam has an extremely blurred economic system - balancing precariously on the edge of outright capitalism!! Whilst they don't have the right to vote, it is a 'free-market' economy which drives two year old's strapped to their mothers back, thumb-in-mouth to peddle their souvenoirs.....I think they learn to differentiate a 50,000 VND from a 10,0000 before they learn their a,b,c's. We're in Sapa now - the mountainous kingdom of minority tribes - where big-eyed, dirty little ruggamuffins (who are really just so cute) speak better english than they do vietnamese, bring home the real impact of mass tourism to the minorities. The mantra goes:
"Hello, what's your name?"; "How old are you"; "you so pretty"; "do you have a boyfriend?"; "how long you gonna stay in Sapa?"; ............ and inevitably, "now you gonna buy this bracelet....coz you promised me!"
We befriended this little girl last night (wandering the streets alone at 10'o clock) who we thought we might treat to a meal. We got as far as ordering teh coke, which never got opened, as she planned to take it home to her family...for its monetary value. That a little girl would deprive herself of such a treat, both saddened and enlightened us to the depravity of these people
Hoi An scapes
. But enough of the tourism socio-pysco analysis for now, we've had a few more adventures to tell, since our last email. Kicking off at our trans-border crossing. Instead of taking the 'nightmare bus' from Vientiane (laos) to Hanoi, we decided to make further tracks south in Laos and go across a newly opened border crossing. This required a night-over in the bomb-scarred back-water town of Sepon - on the former Ho Chi Minh trail. We hardly anticipated their being a shortage of accommodation (with two guest houses and being the low-season), but then we also didn't expect to find an army base of american GI's on a body-recovery mission, some thirty years after the Vietnam / American (depending on which museum you're visiting) war. After seeking out some damp, mothballed dive (which declared itself a 'guest-house', but at $3 a night you can forget you sleeping in a cardboard box if you close your eyes tight enough), we spent a rather bizzare evening in the local drinking well, chatting to baby-faced GI's who are spending millions of american of tax-payers money on trying to find the dental arcade (or any other reamins) of fallen soldiers and pilots....who had never 'officially' been in Laos anyway!! As a matter of fact, the USA never declared war on Vietnam either, but whose counting? More recent revelations have disclosed that the american government would not have gone to such expense (to give "closure to the bereaved families" as justified), had it not been for the insurance policies that they're still paying out on.
We then had a fairly non-eventful border crossing, expecting to be asked for 'extra entry fees' by the officials, which to our surprise, didn't happen (we did get screwed on our exchange rate with the black market money-changers, but that was our fault as we should have known better a) to either wait until we got to a major city bank or b) research the exchange rate beforehand
junks, Halong Bay
. You live and learn. We've learn't alot. Whilst you never tend to make the same mistake again, there certainly lots of lessons to learn...and it seems, more than ever in Vietnam! We're hired a taxi/minbus at the border to take us into Hue (finally settling on a fee which would have paid for most of the other passengers as well, but being the only farang & needing to get to Hue before nightfall, one doen't wield too much negotiating clout. This didn't, however, stop them from still trying to cram as many passengers as possible into the van, short of asking people to sit on the front bumber. The reasons for which soon became apparent when a Michelin / Oros women appareared from behind some bushes and came running towards our van. Fat people in Vietnam are a rareity. Two running from either side of the road is a freak show... unless you're on a major border smuggling route, that is!
With remarkable agility, the two fat mama's squeezed in on either side of us (I'm not sure how, cause our ankles where already up around our earlobes by this stage) and began stuffing the cartons of cigarettes (contained within the 50kg mielie bags they each carried) under our seats, above our heads, and in every other nook and crannie their possibly could be in the van...including ours, and every other passenger's, personal bags
kids in Sapa, Nn Vietnam
. All the other passengers were completely non-plussed - as if this is a totally normal, everyday occurrence - which it turns out, it probably is! Apparently these 'hijackers' (they certainly didn't pay their bus fee) smuggle in cigarretes from Laos on a daily occurence. Each passenger in the vehicle is legally allowed to take in 200 packs of cigarrettes (and two bottles of whisky)...which, regardless of your stance on smoking, we were all consigned our quota (the other reason for cramming 20 persons into a 12 seater van). Their other (larger) stash of cigarettes were secured in their nylon fat-suits - fit for purpose so to speak - and providing explanation to their 'michelin-man' appearance with little hands, head and feet. Once we were through the second police border (with the police-men receiving an anonymous 'duty-free' goodie-bag and turning a very blind-eye to our Oros-women accomplices, the women began to undress, piling layers of fags into their other cargo bags and were then dropped off a couple of kilometres down the rd from the border post. Good Morning Vietnam!!!!! We wont bore you with our chronological intinery, but we spent a couple of days in the old imperial capital of Hue, visiting ornate tombs and river-festivals on mono-speed bicycles, in sweltering temperatures, and relishing Bia Hoi (draught lager at about 20 US cents a pint, you cant go wrong) in the local taverns with their plastic, kindergardern funishings
local cafe
. If you go local (and pay local) you gotta be prepared to slurp your noodles 12cm above the open sewers and street rubbish....even us height-challenged lasses, feel rather like giants in this country. But the food is GREAT. We then took a comfortable AC bus to the tailor village of Hoi An. Here we succumbed to personlised consumer-cult, put our blinkers on to heritage, culture and authenticity, to become fickle girls dressed to impress. For a mere $50 we had several fine silk garment tailored to the contuors of our curvacous bodies and ready to take Hilton by storm. Watch out boys! The tailors were incredibly acommodating, sewing up personlised designs by the very next day. The quality and seamstress(ship) we'll assess in the next couple of washes. They do also bring new meaning to the word 'fitting'. The clothes are designed to fit between your meals, and in some cases, between breaths.
With our new wardrobe we hit the glitsy beaches of Nha Trang, where we spent many blissfull days taking snorkelling trips & dives, sun-bathing and wallowing in mineral muds. Apparently these 'muds' come from 100metres underground & have countless therapeutic properties (like tiger-balm, they are touted as the 'cure-all'), but we reckon they might have been extracted from the local construction works and scented with oils, as we both suffered pubertal onset of acne soon after. Our skins are only just forgiving us now, but it was damn good at the time.
We also met up with old mates from our original slow-boat journey into Laos where we spent a good few nights wining (well lagering really) and dining, whilst being propositioned by the smooth-talking souvenior-seling youths
longtail boat at sunset
. One evening, our smart lawyer friends were challenged to a game of Connect 4 (similar to noughts and crosses where you have to get four-in a row of the same colour) with a twelve-year old postcard tout. The stakes were high. If we lost we had the choice of buying exorbitantly priced post-cards, or the little boy threatened to take Jack's harem (his girlfriend and us two) back to a hotel where he would like to impregnate Sarah with three kids: one boy, one girl ...and , as a cheeky afterthought, one lady-boy! As it turned it out, horror of horrors, Jack lost; Sarah locked herself in the toilets; and Julia and Rebecca were left to negotiotiate a less than fair deal on the post-cards. What ever happened to the inncocence of youth?
Growing tired of being beach-bums...and getting more freckles & wrinkles, we headed to the central highlands, to the mist-shrouded (and rain-soaked) university town of Dalat (apparently the only place conducive to study before the arrival of air-con). Not much to say here coz' it pissed down with rain for three whole days, but we did meet an english couple who were extending their stay for another week, because they felt so at home and invigorated by this weather (..that's the english for you?). We flew from Dalat to Hanoi having being reassured that Vietnam airlines had retired their old fighter jets for new passenger boeings
old lady - Hoi An
. Two hours as opossed to 22 hrs...flying is great! Hanoi is CRAZY, CRAZY, CRAZY!! Little green men and zebra crossings mean absolutely zip-all to the average kamikaze motocyclist. Whilst farangs hanker by the roadside and eventually cross with panic and trepidation wiped across their brows, the local way is put 'balls to the wall' & just walk across SLOWLY, looking straight on ahead. Its up to the motocyclist to avoid you; if they wish. It doesn't always work out though. We saw two hit & runs on the first day. In the market, we also saw a dog-flattie, its rotten teeth snaring up through its barbequed lips. Delightful culinary appertitisers for the truly adventurous palate. No, we haven't tried...at least not by conscious decision?
We're now going to spend one more day in Hanoi visiting the embalmed body of the reverant Ho Chi Minh and spend our left over dong on pressies for you...
Until then, tam biet
Love Sarah & Julia
