Shared berths

On the bus back to Hanoi, I took pictures of our group, individuals as well as a group shot.I know, I'm silly. I guess I wanted us to all live on together somewhere, even if only in the memory of a photograph. What an amazing group of people! Everyone got along. Everyone was kind, fun, interesting and interested. I feel blessed.

Back in Hanoi, several of us continued to travel on together to Sapa, the highlands, on an overnight train. Jazmine, the wicked funny Canadian, and I were in a berth with two Singaporeans. How advantageous! My parents have been living in Singapore for the past 2+ years, so we had plenty to discuss. Another man also joined us in our berth for a bit of the conversation. He was Chinese but they referred to him as the Chinaman. We talked about life and family, but more than anything I think they were aghast at how friendly and outgoing we were. Three days on a party boat, not much sleep, we were a nutty pair to encounter. Jaz even pull a quick-change into her nightie in front of them. Blond, blue-eyed and bra-less. Classic!

We booked the night train to Sapa at Hanoi Backpackers' as well. And all things considered, we should have asked a few more questions. Ernesto ended up in a berth with strangers instead with any of us. And while it's not such a big deal, I would have been really uncomfortable had it been me.

Cat Ba Island

Snaking through the trees on Cat Ba Island, reported to mean sad woman, renamed when the men left to fight in the war, many in our group myself included struggled up one of the larger limestone hills. Little-to-no sleep, having had drinks to boot, the hike did in even some of us who did sleep.

At the top of the mountain is an observation tower. Rickety to say the least, almost at the top, with one final stair to climb, you find no stair at all. The last landing before stepping onto the wooden platform at the top is altogether missing. Probably not the best combination. Lack of sleep, possible hangovers, hiking and a safety hazard or two...ah, life is indeed an adventure! Thankfully, I took out a travel policy with the heli-vac option.

Many of the islands out in the bay are said to have been used as hospitals during the war. With more than 2,000 of these islands, it would be more than difficult to locate anyone in hiding. People live in the Cat Ba bay, as well. Mostly on fishing boats, much like on the Ton Le Sap in between Cambodia and southern Vietnam.

On the boat-ride out yesterday, still close to the mainland, I started thinking about garbage. Often enough this earth is used as our dumping ground. In Northern Peru, on the ride from Piura to Chiclayo, for example, in the shoulders on each side of the highway lay gutters of refuse. Does anyone know of any global trash pick-up efforts? Just a thought...

Ha Long forever

After a three-hour bus ride out of Hanoi, we boarded the Jolly Roger, the Hostel's boat, and cruised out into the bay for about two more hours. It's breath-taking out here. Small limestone hills leap out the water everywhere you turn. And in the most unusual shapes. Legend has it that dragons cane down from heaven to protect Vietnam from invaders to the north. The dragons spouted jewels and jade into the water, forming the islands and a natural barrier and protection for the country. Myth further has it that the dragons so loved the bay, its calm waters and people that they stayed, the longest beaches the dragons' tails.

Once far enough into the bay and away from any other boats, Viet, our local guide, laid down the law. Rules on the boat:
1. Be careful buying anything from the women circling the boat. The water they sell, for example, is not purified.
2. No swimming alone.
3. No drinking alone.
4. No sleeping alone.

Simple enough, I guess. Dexter, the American who speaks only American and is a bit unusual, thus nicknamed after the serial killer show, was the only one to challenge a rule. Everything he bought was from the women in the boats. He's in law school. Figures.

After the rules, we all jumped from the top deck into the water. Geronimo! Harry, our English-speaking guide, mentioned that they frequently have to get people to mingle and chat on the boat. Our group instant friends, Harry confided that Canadians are the friendliest. When they're on the boat, everyone gets along well. Beauty, eh?

The sunsets out here are unforgettable. I think I could stay here forever. We watched the sun slip behind the jade hills. And then the party started. And lasted until dawn. No. Sleep. Til Brooklyn!

Into the bay

So midday yesterday, I signed up for a boat tour of Ha Long Bay with Hanoi Backpackers' Hostel. I wasn't interested in staying at the hostel, but the main selling point for booking the tour through them was the woman working their tour desk. Her name is Rio. Yep, not sure if she dances on the sand, but she's one of the the nicest and most helpful people I've met on this trip. And all in all, I wanted to book a trip with other fun travelers...and on the bus now, I think it's going to work out.

Jazmine, a Canadian is to my my right, and I don't think I've laughed this hard in months. Next to her is Hadas, an Israeli who just finished her two years in the army. We keep exchanging glances after hearing the words coming out of Jazmine's mouth. She's one of those people who hasn't traveled much yet, or been exposed to much outside of Alberta. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, in school to be a nutritionist, everyone on the bus thought she was from Callie. She's naive and doesn't even know it yet. It's great.

This group is going to be a blast. Several French Canadian girls, several English-speaking Canadians, a dude from Mexico, a Spaniard, a Swiss girl, the Israeli, two Scottish guys, two guys from Philly, and several Brits thrown in for good measure. Getting to know each other, our guide Viet asked us to describe ourselves, maybe what languages we speak, where we're from, etc. Some of us speak several languages, some only one. And then there's another guy from the States, next to last to introduce himself. And here's what he said, "I'm from America. I speak American." I responded, "I'm sorry. Can someone please translate?"

At night

Last night, Sean and I ventured out into the city. We sat on kiddie stools in the street with other tourists and locals alike and drank Bia Hoi into the wee hours. It's local draft beer, mini-brewed at small shops around the city. When finished with one beer, the woman at the pony keg dumps the swill into a bucket and pours you another. Just wondering...where does the swill go? Is it twice brewed? Ah, who cares. The beers work out to about 15 cents each.

After a kebab, a small triangular meat sandwich, we moved on to a "proper" bar and joined several teachers for a drink. Each of them mentioned how rough it was teaching in Hanoi, wink, wink. Apparently, the situation is good enough for them to want to prevent word from getting out. A bit of bumping and grinding on a few of the teachers' parts, and Sean and I moved on again.

In the doors to a small bar with a pool table, we snuggled into a booth with four locals, Linh (lean), Duc (dook), Tho (tawh) and Hai (hi). Vietnamese is a tonal language, which stumps me. Hai, for example, can mean some six different things in Vietnamese. It means the number two. It can be a proper name. It may be used as an adjective. The meaning depends upon the tone and emphasis on syllables. Hai's name refers to him when pronounced in an arc of sound. Woah, where to begin? A few hours into our discussion, we were shushed, the doors closed and gates of the bar locked. From what I could discern, bars are supposed to close at a certain hour. Police cruise the streets to ensure cooperation, at which point all the bars simply close their gates and quiet all customers. Interesting. In Banos, Ecuador, the cops would enter the bars and send everyone home, the nightly raid. In Hanoi, they don't seem quite as vigilant.

Consider the source

Hanoi. A new place. The capital. We got in early this morning, maybe 1 am, and everything was closed. Even our hotel. Not much for nightlife? On a Saturday night/Sunday morning? Hmm. So we sacked out, planning a full day ahead.

Man, is Hanoi confusing. We're staying near a huge lake, which would normally be a great landmark for getting my bearings. But apparently not in Hanoi. Street names change from block to block. And there are more eleven-way intersections than I've ever seen in my life.

Hence, our taxi to the Temple of Literature. Whether a symbol of education or art, or homage to those ancestors who so revered study and teaching, the temple is highly trafficked by tourists and locals. Surrounded by gardens upon entry, visitors pass through four main gates. In the first section is a pool. I wonder if like in many of the temples in Cambodia, the pool was used for cleansing prior to prayer and/or study. Another section of the temple is devoted to doctors with rows of huge stone scrolls mounted on the backs of sculpted turtles. As we walked, children and their parents alike rubbed the heads of the turtles and dropped small donations at their feet. For luck, for honor, for health, many people I've met say the Vietnamese are a superstitious people. Whatever helps, I say. A building at the end of the temple showcases the history of the temple with shrines to its influential men.

Oh, almost forgot. The taxi fare was 15,000 Vietnamese Dong. Our driver tried to charge us 150,000...not so fast.

Next we visited the Hoa Lo Prison, known also as the Hanoi Hilton. Built by the French in the late 1800s and used to house Vietnamese prisoners, it was taken over by the Vietnamese in the 50s. As has been the case throughout much of my journey in Vietnam, I am familiar with names and places mostly because of Vietnam war history and movies. It's curious to think back in the history of humanity...is there a place, a plot of land on this earth where war has not occurred?

Walking through the exhibit, statues of Vietnamese prisoners are locked in foot shackles in a row. Winding further back into holding cells, getting to what must have been solitary confinement, peeping through the opening in the door, there sits another statue. I gasped. I wasn't expecting to see any representation of a body in the cell. And the detail of the sculptures? They may look goofy upon close examination, but at first glance, they're life-like.

Further into the prison still, is a section on the American soldiers who were kept there, most notably John McCain. Photos of American soldiers in the exhibit are shocking. In pretty much all of them, the men are smiling. There are photos of Christmas and the prisoners exchanging gifts. In others the men are exercising or cooking dinner. It seems that the Vietnamese are quite concerned with showing how well the prisoners were treated. I wrote down a quotation in the exhibit that I found striking, and hope there are no inaccuracies in my copying it. "American servicemen participating in the war of aggression by US administration in Viet Nam and caught in the act while perpetrating barbarous crimes against Vietnamese land and people should have been duly punished according to their criminal acts, but the government and people of Viet Nam, endowed with noble and humanitarian traditions, have given those captured American servicemen the opportunity to benefit a lenient and generous policy by affording them a normal life in the detention camps as practical conditions of Viet Nam permit it and conforming to the situation in which war was still on."

As has been the case here in Vietnam, I am learning a different perspective on the war. In history class, the Vietnam war was painted as the US defending south Viet Nam in a civil war. Here in Viet Nam, I haven't seen a single mention of it. The war seems to be viewed as an act of US aggression. Whether this is the propaganda the Vietnamese government is teaching its people, perhaps as is the US with its slant and version, or fact, who knows? Are there three sides to ever story: yours, theirs and the truth?

Dang, Danang!

The Danang airport is 30 minutes north of Hoi An. The airport itself? There were three people in line ahead of me at check-in. Red alarm clock font glows above each counter indicating flight and destination. At least it's not blinking. Simple security check, a scanner. Inside, there are three gates from which to board your aircraft. The waiting room is like a hospital, or maybe the Social Security Administration. Rows of 1970s beige round rump seats all attached to a metal plate at your feet. A souvenir shop, a restaurant and can beer bar, people playing cards.

We left Hoi An at 9pm, for our 10:55 pm flight. An hour and 10 minutes from Danang to Hanoi and it's 12:30 am. All for under 50USD start to finish, can beer excluded. Not bad, not bad.