Bia Hoi is something of a wonder… a wonder as to how beer could possibly be so cheap. Freshly brewed nearly daily with no preservatives, it is a treat that varies greatly and must be consumed immediately. At 13 cents a glass, it was an affordable way to while away the evenings, trying my best to forget that I somehow planned my arrival in Hanoi at exactly the same time as my favorite American hero, Comrade Bush, descended upon this charming and unsuspecting city for the APEC (Asian Pacific Economic Cooperation) Forum. My good friend Luke said it best, “So, I guess that means his dad couldn’t get him out of going to Vietnam this time–he missed his flight last time (1971?) but he is there now”.
My Hanoi visit was broken up by my trip to Halong Bay, but overall I spent 4 days and 4 nights wandering the streets, eating Pho (delicious Vietnamese noodle soup), and checking out the scenery. The city really does have an incredible energy, and I met several travelers who got “stuck” there for much longer than they anticipated. One traveler I met, Vincent, took a job at the backpacker’s hostel I stayed at and planned to stay for 3 months. I can’t say I wasn’t the least bit jealous.
I arrived in Hue, and found nothing really to write home about. Though walking back from dinner, I heard someone call “Lauren!”, something I am not at all accustomed to hearing these days, and turned around to see my friends Adam and Allison from Nha Trang. I sat down and hung out with them for a while before heading to bed.
The next day I excitedly boarded my first train of the trip, an over-night journey to my final destination in Vietnam, Hanoi. Two folks recognized me from Greenfields, the backpackers’ haven in Hoi An, and so began my travels with Dan and Molly from the UK. I entered my cabin and was greeted by Dana from Canada, and Dan from Australia. After a few moments of discussion, I realized that Dan was the guy with the troublesome bladder from the overnight bus ride to Nha Trang. Small world.
OK, not really. But like most travellers who happen upon Hoi An, I spent way more than was budgeted. Hoi An is famous for its seamstresses who will whip up any cloth concoction you can conjure or point out in Vogue, tailor made to fit you just right. I received multiple warnings as I approached Hoi An, most notably from Helen (See “From the Mountaaaains to the Beach”), who had ended up purchasing 7, yes 7, dresses from one lucky seamstress. Despite these cautionary tales, I walked into the den of endless fabric, whirring sewing machines, and piles of fashion magazines, and immediately fell victim to Hoi An’s greatest temptations. One suit, 3 work shirts, 1 long sleeve casual shirt, and a traditional Vietnamese dress later (no worries, the dress includes pants, uh, 2 pants, actually…), I emerged from Hoi An with a backpack I can barely carry.
Aside from blowing my budget, I had a great time meeting a bunch of fellow backpackers in the hotel I stayed at just outside of town called Greenfields. With *free* banana rum punches from 6:30-7:30, unlimited high speed internet, and a gorgeous pool, it was worth the 15 minute walk.
I knew something was fishy when a small van pulled up to pick me up in Mui Ne instead of the standard big bus. They said, “oh, big bus very close, 1 hour”, so I jumped in. Two hours later I arrived at the big bus, which was jam packed full of travelers with bags piled high in the last seats and lined in the isles. The bus was extremely slow and bumpy (and everyone in it extremely cranky), and it took us 7 hours to get to Dalat, which was supposedly only 4 hours away.
Once in Dalat, they wouldn’t drop us in the center of town, but instead at a hotel they wanted us to stay at on the outskirts. I started walking. The hotel I was looking for wasn’t in Lonely Planet — it was a suggestion from the Swedish girls I had met before (Lamson Hotel - $4 with free internet, hot water and cable!) – so I wasn’t sure where I was going. I asked some moto bike drivers who said they knew where it was and told me to jump on. I said “no thank you”, that I’d prefer to walk if they’d just point me in the right direction. They then responded that they didn’t know where the hotel was after all. Finally 2 nice moto bike drivers told me where to go (AND caught up with me to put me on the right track after I had made a wrong turn), and I arrived 1.5 hours later at the Lamson. Despite this difficult entry, I found Dalat to be worth the trouble.
Everywhere I go, I hear Robin Williams screaming this famous movie catch phrase as I pass restaurants, bars, and cafes all bearing its name. So far I’ve been through Ho Chi Minh, a beach town (Mui Ne), and the Central Highlands (Dulat), and so far, I am loving this country.
I made it through the Cambodian/Vietnamese border via bus without a hitch, and entered an entirely different landscape from what I had just passed through moments before in Cambodia. For one thing, the roads were smoother, and the lines on them freshly painted. The houses were not thatched, but concrete and brick, with a few garages and cars in the driveways. The neighborhoods were “thickly settled” (as they say in the Cape), with houses fairly close together. It was interesting to see such a drastic change so quickly.
While in Sihanoukville, I sprouted some interesting blisters on the healing scar on my knee. I started to panic when they were getting worse, not better, so booked a bus ride back to Phnom Penh… MISSING, by the way, the only Halloween party I had seen advertised set for the next day on the 31st, which was perhaps a larger tragedy that the re-emergence of my injury. So, Margie, sorry to report, I spent Halloween watching (not scary) movies in my room. Very sad. Oh, fun sighting on the way back… I got to drive by all those “Made in Cambodia” sweatshop factories, and see all the women streaming out into the slummy neighborhoods surrounding the factories. Yay sweatshops.
Went to the hospital in Phnom Penh, they cleaned me up, put me on antibiotics, and gave me instructions to clean it. They said not to travel for a few days, so I delayed my trip to Vietnam and nestled into city life for a 5 day stay. Check out the new pictures on Phnom Penh in the picture section.
Thank you to everyone for your birthday wishes and emails! I owe a lot of people emails back — and I really will get to it… I’ve actually had a busy week: Bon flew down from NYC to spend my b-day week with me (hint to other New Yorkers: Planes fly south) and we’ve been… well, mostly sitting around drinking sweet tea. But still, I’ve been busy.
A short list of presents highlights:
T-shirts and a duvet from Laos
Coffemaker
A visit from Bon
Confirmation from my Dr. that all bone healing is going very well and the go-ahead to bend my knee as far as and as much as I want (but not walk for another month)
A blow up girlfriend from the Fentonistas (though its not quite as tall as the real one)
I arrived in Sihanoukville to a beach called Occheuteal and actually laughed out loud when I walked onto the beach. It was truly paradise. The cove was a very long, vast stretch of white shoreline with warm, aqua water. Restaurants and bars dotted the beach with large lounge chairs adorned with fluffy, red pillows lined up out front. Not surprisingly, this beach got hardly a mention in the Lonely Planet.
After assessing my options, I ended up at a place a bit out of my price range, but right on the beach. I decided that I didn’t want to be out by the road, since that would mean me walking alone through a dark field back to my room at night. And after taking an initial look at some of the other places on the beach where I could stay, I decided I’d be saner as well as safer if I spent the extra cash…
Abby and I arrived in Phnom Penh thinking we’d only stay a short while before Abby headed home to Chiang Mai and I took off for the beach in the south for a little R&R after our 2 week whirlwind adventure. Abby did end up going home despite fantasies of blowing off work to continue traveling, but I decided to stay and soak up the city for a few extra days. I love this place.
As most arrivals in Cambodia go, we descended into a sea of tuk-tuk drivers jumping over one another to offer us rides. Abby had a particularly amusing interaction with one (see the quotes section), but we managed to single out 2 drivers to take the two of us, Matt, and our Icelandic friends out of the madness. On our way out, Abby witnessed a man reaching into a car, grabbing a bag, running across the market, and jumping into a waiting car. People were yelling, but did nothing, and we tucked the straps of our bags around our legs.
