I learned this travel mantra during my study abroad in Vienna back in 2000. Over time I’ve seen the truth in it, as the whole point of souvenirs is to have things that recall memories of a place, and the memory should be more than what it took to purchase that object. Besides, with a little luck you’ll visit so many places that the last thing you’ll want is more “stuff” to haul around. I’d succeed in avoiding too much shopping on this trip by the sheer duration of it, aside from the Russian Market in Phnom Penh, but my grand Asian adventure was drawing to a close, Bangkok was renowned for its cheap shopping, and despite the tropical weather it was still Christmastime.
My last morning in Khao Lak, and indeed Thailand, began with a morning swim in the perfect waters of the Andaman Sea before a Thanksgiving Skype with my family. All too soon I had to leave paradise behind and go to the Phuket airport for the flight back to Bangkok, just long enough after my last dive to be safe. During the drive I saw many Thai women wearing hijab, the Muslim head scarf. I knew Indonesia is the largest Muslim country in the world and that Malaysia’s not far away, but somehow it never crossed my mind that this faith would be so dominant in this region. The fact that it was a Friday only increased their presence, I suppose. The Phuket airport’s runway is parallel to a pristine beach with gorgeous white sand, and practically taunts you that you’re leaving it behind for something that can’t possibly compete.
The flight was short and I was becoming a pro at Bangkok’s main airport, as this was now the fourth time I’d flown into it. After dropping off my bags at the hotel and consulting their staff, I set out to make some final memories of Bangkok before the shopping spree. My time was limited, but I took “the Khlong” like a pro to central Bangkok and took a brief walking tour to my destination: Wat Pho. This temple in a land of temples stands out for many things: the oldest and largest in Bangkok, the largest statue of the Buddha in Thailand, and the birthplace of Thai massage. Alas, time did not permit a proper tribute to this last fact, but I do appreciate the idea of a massage after worship. As it was, I got there near sunset as things were starting to close. A kind woman offered to guide me through the maze of buildings and show me the highlights. There are over 1,000 statues of Buddha in Wat Pho, but the big three (literally) are one of him sitting, one standing, and one reclining. This last one blows all the others out of the water, and is possibly the largest sculpture of a human I’ve ever seen. This golden giant fills a room and dwarfs the flock of tourists walking the perimeter in a vain search for a camera angle to properly take it all in. My favorite features were the spiky curls on his head, and the beautiful inlay on his feet. Given their cultural aversion to feet, I was surprised at the beauty and detail of the inlay work on this part of his body. I also heard a faint pinging sound, and once I was on Buddha’s other side I saw a line of bowls against the length of the wall that Buddhists would walk down and drop coins into. It made a beautiful sound, but I never learned its significance. Outside, I took dozens of photos of the glistening mosaics in the setting sun, and followed a few monks around in an attempt to get a few last shots.
After that, the tourist hat came off and the shopping hat came on—though for me, this was a cultural experience unto itself. My spree began in a curry shop I’d read about, where I picked up the few items to bring home that actually had names and instructions in English. From there I dove into the world of Thai shopping malls. Part of the reason my coworker suggested this hotel was actually its proximity to retail, but I had no idea the many scales they shopped on in this city. There were street vendors, small indoor shops, and giant shopping malls all around us—I believe there were at least five malls in walking distance. I found this all more than a little overwhelming, but there was one in particular people kept suggesting: MBK.
En route to it I cut through another mall and was surprised at the number of western shops, but was delighted with their basement. The food court contained many different cuisines, but it also contained all the street food you could want, prepared in an environment you could trust for food safety. It also contained one of the most high-end grocery stores I’ve seen anywhere, though I had to laugh when I saw that one of their luxury gift baskets for Christmas contained American food: peanut butter, cranberry juice, pasta sauce, etc. It just goes to show that it’s all about context, and an item out of context can be perceived as an exotic luxury. I knew this was the right place for one of my specific gifts: a fruit carving set for my brother. He’d explained it to me, but it was a bit harder to explain to people that don’t cook and aren’t fluent in English. That I found it at all was a miracle, and with that I attempted to exit the mall and go across the street. This seemed so simple on the map, but I hadn’t counted on the mall’s size and the need to determine which elevated walkway to take across the street.
Finally, I was in…and a little in over my head. MBK was massive, over five stories with wings stretching out of sight, but full of small vendors selling things I could persuade myself to buy. How on earth do you tackle something like that? I started walking down passages at random and soon realized there were a lot of duplicates, that in some areas it was as if the street vendors had simply moved indoors. In a place like this I’d normally shop very methodically, checking out every shop of a type and thinking it over before making my decision. However, I knew from previous experience that there wasn’t enough time and it was quite possible I’d never find the same store twice, so when I found something good I’d get it and accept that it may have been $1 cheaper on the other side of the mall. All too soon the time crunch started to hit, as stores started closing all around me. I tried walking faster and a few places closed as slowly as possible, but soon there was nothing left I could buy in this retail metropolis.
As soon as I stepped outside, however, the night markets surrounded me. Vendors sold wares on blankets spread out on the elevated walkways, and racks crammed the ground level sidewalks as locals and tourists alike pushed their way through the crowd. The selection was slimmer and the lighting was usually poor, but I was able to pick up a few more things. Once the shopping began it was a little hard to stop, but soon my bags were full and my wallet wasn’t, so it was just a matter of figuring out how to get home. By this time it meant walking around the perimeter of malls, where they kept the party going with several outdoor concerts. A few weeks earlier and I may have stopped, but it was late and I now had a lot of packing to figure out. Back at the hotel I chatted with the front desk guy and he asked me if I’d been shopping in Chinatown since they’re open all night. Maybe next trip…
I was lucky that the packing didn’t take too long, but there hardly seemed a point in lying down since it was already very late and we had an obscenely early departure for the airport. Taking a fashion tip from Cambodia, I shuffled down to the corner 7-11 in my PJs and spent the rest of my change on snacks and other assorted fare to remind me of Thailand. A few hours later, our cab arrived and we were on our way to the airport. I’d done this so many times that the significance couldn’t really hit me that I wouldn’t be coming back to Bangkok. Five weeks, gone just like that. Cori’s flight was an hour earlier so I had some extra time to enjoy my last mangosteen and hike the terminals before boarding. As the sun rose my plane rose, too, above the skyscrapers and rice paddies and away from Thailand.
My flight back to DC was pretty uneventful, aside from a layover in Japan. It was just long enough to buy sushi, which was the first time I’d done this without assistance, and I must say it was neat to see it made and delicious to eat. I can also say that even the bathrooms reflect their love of gadgets. My last flight was over the North Pole, and I kept lifting the window screen in the hopes of glimpsing the Northern Lights. Alas, I only saw darkness, but I’m still convinced their insistence to keep the screens down was a conspiracy to keep us from seeing Santa. Several naps, movies, and hours later, I was back in DC and thoroughly disoriented with the sensation of winter. It’s good to be home, but what do you do for an encore?
30 November 2009
Scuba School
Far from lounging on the beach all day, “scuba school” kept me busy and left me weary but was such a treat. The first morning began in a classroom, watching videos and listening to lectures to get some of the theory down before actually getting in the water. That afternoon, we began our pool work at a nearby resort. We probably looked as funny as I felt to have so much gear on for such a shallow depth, but it was great to have the place to ourselves as I attempted to unlearn holding my breath. The biggest surprise came when I had to swim to the other end of the pool and discovered a bunch of legs in speedos—we were no longer alone and the European guests had returned. Thankfully class was soon over for the day, and I finally had a chance to walk along the copper-colored sand on the beach and watch the setting sun over the water.
The next day began even earlier as we took a speedboat out to the Similan Islands. The water was that same sapphire blue I’d seen in Zanzibar, and I was happy just to be there. I was also relieved that unlike my trip to the Great Barrier Reef, the seas were calm and I didn’t get seasick. We did our briefings/lectures on the boat so we could dive as soon as we arrived at the islands, and I used other downtime to complete the swimming and floating requirements that are normally done in a pool. Why swim laps in a pool when you can swim laps around a boat, admiring the fish and the beautiful water?
On my very first dive, I saw the one creature I had really wanted to see: a hawksbill sea turtle. Talk about beginner’s luck! Again, I was so content we could’ve stopped there, but it takes four dives to get certified (two each day). We saw such a gorgeous variety of fish, coral, and other sea creatures that I quickly wore out my dive master’s “scuba sign language” vocab as I kept asking her to identify everything. I’m glad we wrote most of it in my dive log, and I’m almost ashamed to say that I began to take some of it for granted like “Oh, more damsel fish, trumpet fish, trigger fish, clown fish, glass fish, etc….” Honestly, picture “Finding Nemo” or the fanciest fish tank you’ve ever seen and that’s about it. We also saw an eel, a creature that I have an irrational fear of, so I was grateful that we didn’t stay long and never saw another.
The other benefit to scuba diving in Thailand is lunch! Again, I was grateful for a full appetite and thoroughly enjoyed a tasty curry lunch on the upper deck overlooking the water. The visibility was excellent and you could see some fish near the surface, including large schools of a species that swam right near the surface so you could see their ripples on the water in the distance.
Thanksgiving Day I received my certification. Talk about a lot to be grateful for! Again we had perfect weather and gorgeous scenery, and I added lion fish, barracuda, and a leopard shark to my dive list. During our lunch break, I even had a quick trip to the main island to climb to a rock overlooking the bay. The white coral sand was perfect, and again, I could’ve been content to spend the day just sitting there in paradise. Putting on my “professional tree hugger” hat, I asked my dive master about the health of Similan Islands National Park on the ride back to the mainland. It’s closed during the stormiest months of the year, and in fact just opened for the season a few weeks before I arrived. I asked her if those months allowed the wildlife to recover from the onslaught of tourists, and was surprised by her answer. “Normally, yes…but this is Thailand” and went on to explain that when the Park is closed to tourist boats, fishing boats come in illegally because there are fewer people to spot and report them. Each season she notices fewer large fish than she’d seen at the end of the previous season. So unlike the Great Barrier Reef that’s being loved to death, in this location divers are actually ensuring its continued survival.
That night, I celebrated by getting a massage and mani/pedi that ended up taking so long that the restaurants had all closed by the time I’d finished. So instead of a gluttonous Thanksgiving feast, I had a slothful evening and topped it off with a street food called Roti, a fried crepe topped with fruit, sweetened condensed milk, or chocolate.
The next day began even earlier as we took a speedboat out to the Similan Islands. The water was that same sapphire blue I’d seen in Zanzibar, and I was happy just to be there. I was also relieved that unlike my trip to the Great Barrier Reef, the seas were calm and I didn’t get seasick. We did our briefings/lectures on the boat so we could dive as soon as we arrived at the islands, and I used other downtime to complete the swimming and floating requirements that are normally done in a pool. Why swim laps in a pool when you can swim laps around a boat, admiring the fish and the beautiful water?
On my very first dive, I saw the one creature I had really wanted to see: a hawksbill sea turtle. Talk about beginner’s luck! Again, I was so content we could’ve stopped there, but it takes four dives to get certified (two each day). We saw such a gorgeous variety of fish, coral, and other sea creatures that I quickly wore out my dive master’s “scuba sign language” vocab as I kept asking her to identify everything. I’m glad we wrote most of it in my dive log, and I’m almost ashamed to say that I began to take some of it for granted like “Oh, more damsel fish, trumpet fish, trigger fish, clown fish, glass fish, etc….” Honestly, picture “Finding Nemo” or the fanciest fish tank you’ve ever seen and that’s about it. We also saw an eel, a creature that I have an irrational fear of, so I was grateful that we didn’t stay long and never saw another.
The other benefit to scuba diving in Thailand is lunch! Again, I was grateful for a full appetite and thoroughly enjoyed a tasty curry lunch on the upper deck overlooking the water. The visibility was excellent and you could see some fish near the surface, including large schools of a species that swam right near the surface so you could see their ripples on the water in the distance.
Thanksgiving Day I received my certification. Talk about a lot to be grateful for! Again we had perfect weather and gorgeous scenery, and I added lion fish, barracuda, and a leopard shark to my dive list. During our lunch break, I even had a quick trip to the main island to climb to a rock overlooking the bay. The white coral sand was perfect, and again, I could’ve been content to spend the day just sitting there in paradise. Putting on my “professional tree hugger” hat, I asked my dive master about the health of Similan Islands National Park on the ride back to the mainland. It’s closed during the stormiest months of the year, and in fact just opened for the season a few weeks before I arrived. I asked her if those months allowed the wildlife to recover from the onslaught of tourists, and was surprised by her answer. “Normally, yes…but this is Thailand” and went on to explain that when the Park is closed to tourist boats, fishing boats come in illegally because there are fewer people to spot and report them. Each season she notices fewer large fish than she’d seen at the end of the previous season. So unlike the Great Barrier Reef that’s being loved to death, in this location divers are actually ensuring its continued survival.
That night, I celebrated by getting a massage and mani/pedi that ended up taking so long that the restaurants had all closed by the time I’d finished. So instead of a gluttonous Thanksgiving feast, I had a slothful evening and topped it off with a street food called Roti, a fried crepe topped with fruit, sweetened condensed milk, or chocolate.
“Wo bin ich?” or “If you could hie to Khao Lak…”
Where is Khao Lak? It’s one thing to be in a place you’ve never been to before, but I felt like I was literally off the map. It turns out this very nearly became a reality, as the 2004 tsunami hit this area of Thailand hardest and Khao Lak was, indeed, almost wiped off the map. Nearly five years later, you’d hardly recognize anything had ever happened. In fact, I’d say there were only three signs of this tragedy: the trees along the beach are younger (but still tall), the power lines were completely replaced and look western in their neatness rather than the typical jumbled mess, and the police boat they’ve left as a memorial. The night of the tsunami, one of the king’s grandsons was staying at a resort in Khao Lak and they had a 60-foot police boat patrolling 1 km offshore. The tsunami picked up this large metal ship and deposited it in the middle of a field nearly 2 km inland. The sight of this boat put the strength of the storm into perspective, but it still didn’t seem real.
Khao Lak is one of many small resort towns on the western coast of Southern Thailand, about 80 km north of Phuket, and it turns out they’ve all found their niche by catering to different languages. They all have signs in English and English-speakers, but I was told one town caters to Russians, another to Norwegians, etc. Wouldn’t you know, we ended up in the German town? I hadn’t heard this much German spoken since studying in Austria and naturally I was excited to hear it again, but this was a little disorienting. For example, one restaurant sold Tom Yum soup with pork knuckles? And Khao Lak was littered with tailor shops like every other tourist stop, but these had dirndls in the window right next to the Chinese dresses and modern suits. It also catered to a different demographic than the usual backpacker beach resort: families and retirees were everywhere. This left a nightlife that was lacking, but made me feel safer to walk around alone at night.
Khao Lak is one of many small resort towns on the western coast of Southern Thailand, about 80 km north of Phuket, and it turns out they’ve all found their niche by catering to different languages. They all have signs in English and English-speakers, but I was told one town caters to Russians, another to Norwegians, etc. Wouldn’t you know, we ended up in the German town? I hadn’t heard this much German spoken since studying in Austria and naturally I was excited to hear it again, but this was a little disorienting. For example, one restaurant sold Tom Yum soup with pork knuckles? And Khao Lak was littered with tailor shops like every other tourist stop, but these had dirndls in the window right next to the Chinese dresses and modern suits. It also catered to a different demographic than the usual backpacker beach resort: families and retirees were everywhere. This left a nightlife that was lacking, but made me feel safer to walk around alone at night.
Where’s Doppler Radar when you need it?
I knew I wanted to end this adventure on a warm, tropical beach, and southern Thailand provides plenty of choices. Too many, in fact, but they can be organized into two categories: Gulf of Thailand side, and Andaman Sea side. After consulting numerous friends and countless travelers, we decided that visiting an island in the Gulf of Thailand named Kho Tao would best suit our needs and timeframe. The guidebook said to take an overnight train to a ferry, so that’s exactly what we did. For a 2nd class sleeper, I was quite impressed with our train. Soon after pulling out of Bangkok they converted the benches into beds, pulled down the upper bunks, and made up our beds with sheets. I opted for the upper bunk, and was grateful for packing an eye mask to block out the light that peeked over the curtains. In many ways it reminded me of the trains I’d taken in India. In what felt like the middle of the night, we got off the train with a few fellow travelers at a small and mostly empty station—it was only 5 AM, after all. Our only objective was to stay awake until we made it to the ferry, a large speed boat to take us to the island. As the sky started to lighten, I was a little disappointed to see it was overcast and thought how that would affect my tan. That was the least of our worries.
I noticed the wind as we boarded the ferry but thought little of it. It was only as the boat pulled away from the harbor that the staff explained that they would attempt to make it to the island, but if the weather was bad we would have to turn back. Excuse me? How dare the weather interfere with my plans! We had barely left the harbor and hadn’t even cleared the barrier islands when the ship was violently rocking back and forth with waves washing over the front. Less than ten minutes away from the dock, we turned around and went back to have them explain that another company would leave from a different dock in four hours if we wanted to wait. At this point we were tired and didn’t feel like we had other options so we decided to wait. It was only on the van ride to the other dock that we began conversing with our fellow passengers. One couple was from Switzerland but now lives on Kho Tao. They explained that it’s a beautiful island 11 months of the year…just not in November, when monsoonal rains hit the Gulf of Thailand. Again, something our research failed to include. I’d seen a few regional weather reports on our trip, but they were always focused on the typhoons that were (thankfully) nowhere near us. Even if this other ship was able to make it to the island, there was no guarantee they’d be able to make the return trip in time for us to catch our flights to the US, to say nothing of the diving while we were there. They then suggested an alternative: Khao Lak, on the Andaman Sea side. In all the conversations I’d had this name had never come up, but the more they described it the more it seemed like a perfect fit for our situation.
We spent the rest of the day on buses crossing the peninsula through farmlands and jungle, and being subjected to Thai karaoke videos which were only novel to a point. I noticed an increase in the number of mosques, and on the last half of our trip we kept stopping at security checkpoints where armed soldiers would board the bus and check IDs...but only of the Asian passengers. It was only later when I looked at a map and chatted with the locals that I realized it was because we were quite close to the Burma border and they were looking for illegal immigrants. For someone who likes to have everything planned out and guidebooks/recommendations to go on, I felt out of my comfort zone as we stepped off the bus but as fate would have it we lucked out. We walked across the street to the closest travel agency and within minutes had a hotel and dive shop that was able to accommodate our situation. Cori was already certified and wanted to get in as many dives as possible; but the whole point of this leg, for me, was to get certified. Every school I’d researched to that point required a minimum of four days, and thanks to our weather delay I now only had three full days for this. It required a private class, but they were willing to work around me. As I emailed home that night:
Cori and I had our own little "Amazing Race" today, so after an overnight train ride and having our ferry to Kho Tao cancelled, we bused further south and across Thailand to Khao Lak. Plan B is looking great, though more expensive. I will have more blogging time tomorrow to catch up on things, but here's the number of hours since I've:
brushed my teeth: 26
showered: 48
washed my hair: 72
…to which mom replied:
So, what you're saying is that you are a girl after your Dad's heart. You were playing Boy Scout—no shower, no teeth brushed, no hair washed. Dad's proud of you for becoming one of them. :-)
I noticed the wind as we boarded the ferry but thought little of it. It was only as the boat pulled away from the harbor that the staff explained that they would attempt to make it to the island, but if the weather was bad we would have to turn back. Excuse me? How dare the weather interfere with my plans! We had barely left the harbor and hadn’t even cleared the barrier islands when the ship was violently rocking back and forth with waves washing over the front. Less than ten minutes away from the dock, we turned around and went back to have them explain that another company would leave from a different dock in four hours if we wanted to wait. At this point we were tired and didn’t feel like we had other options so we decided to wait. It was only on the van ride to the other dock that we began conversing with our fellow passengers. One couple was from Switzerland but now lives on Kho Tao. They explained that it’s a beautiful island 11 months of the year…just not in November, when monsoonal rains hit the Gulf of Thailand. Again, something our research failed to include. I’d seen a few regional weather reports on our trip, but they were always focused on the typhoons that were (thankfully) nowhere near us. Even if this other ship was able to make it to the island, there was no guarantee they’d be able to make the return trip in time for us to catch our flights to the US, to say nothing of the diving while we were there. They then suggested an alternative: Khao Lak, on the Andaman Sea side. In all the conversations I’d had this name had never come up, but the more they described it the more it seemed like a perfect fit for our situation.
We spent the rest of the day on buses crossing the peninsula through farmlands and jungle, and being subjected to Thai karaoke videos which were only novel to a point. I noticed an increase in the number of mosques, and on the last half of our trip we kept stopping at security checkpoints where armed soldiers would board the bus and check IDs...but only of the Asian passengers. It was only later when I looked at a map and chatted with the locals that I realized it was because we were quite close to the Burma border and they were looking for illegal immigrants. For someone who likes to have everything planned out and guidebooks/recommendations to go on, I felt out of my comfort zone as we stepped off the bus but as fate would have it we lucked out. We walked across the street to the closest travel agency and within minutes had a hotel and dive shop that was able to accommodate our situation. Cori was already certified and wanted to get in as many dives as possible; but the whole point of this leg, for me, was to get certified. Every school I’d researched to that point required a minimum of four days, and thanks to our weather delay I now only had three full days for this. It required a private class, but they were willing to work around me. As I emailed home that night:
Cori and I had our own little "Amazing Race" today, so after an overnight train ride and having our ferry to Kho Tao cancelled, we bused further south and across Thailand to Khao Lak. Plan B is looking great, though more expensive. I will have more blogging time tomorrow to catch up on things, but here's the number of hours since I've:
brushed my teeth: 26
showered: 48
washed my hair: 72
…to which mom replied:
So, what you're saying is that you are a girl after your Dad's heart. You were playing Boy Scout—no shower, no teeth brushed, no hair washed. Dad's proud of you for becoming one of them. :-)
Plane, train, automobile, Khlong, Sky train, water taxi, tuk tuk…
We were back in Bangkok, this time for nearly 24 hours, and without planning it we managed to use just about every mode of transportation possible. Our flight arrived so late that we took a taxi straight to our hotel and called it a night. The next morning, we were pleasantly surprised to discover we were mere minutes from church. This chapel must have been an office building at one point, because it’s the only one I’ve seen with a concierge desk. Once again the talks and lessons were excellent, and this week we had the bonus of joining the members for a potluck lunch after church. I can’t tell you what the dishes were, but I can tell you they were delicious assortment of curries and mango sticky rice for dessert. During this, I asked the missionaries for the best place to buy ties and wasn’t disappointed, but we never could’ve found it on our own because it involved taking…”the Khlong”.
A khlong is actually a canal, and there are a few key ones cutting across central Bangkok that are served by boats acting as public taxis. A sweet couple escorted us across the street and down a hidden staircase to the narrow canal where we stood on a platform with a sign that looked very informative—if you spoke Thai. We waited for a few minutes and soon a khlong taxi pulled up. These boats were clearly custom-made for this; they were just wide enough for two to pass each other in the canal, and were just tall enough to go under the bridges. Some bridges were so low that the boat’s roof could be retracted down nearly a foot to squeeze underneath. They lowered the plastic tarp that encircled the boat to protect the passengers from spray and we climbed in to sit down on one of the benches. The couple told us to go 5 stops and with that, we were on our way, zooming down the canal. This quickly became one of my favorite forms of transportation. For 8 baht, you got a backstage “cruise” in central Bangkok with the locals. The tie lady was impressive for the sheer variety of ties and great prices, but no two were alike and I was after a matching set.
From there we took the Skytrain. I was impressed at the system’s cleanliness, and divided my attention between the Bangkok skyline and the screens in each car showing commercials. Bangkok truly exists on several levels, with elevated trains, overhead pedestrian walkways, elevated freeways, etc. Heaven help the person with a wheelchair, as elevators were hard to spot. We got off at the main river, Chao Phraya, and boarded a larger water taxi to go up the river. This seemed quite tame after our khlong adventure, but was still great and the scenery was much prettier. We passed several temples and other beautiful buildings before getting off at the royal palace. From there we walked a bit before taking a tuk tuk to see a Buddha statue over 32 meters tall at Wat Indravihan and the Golden Mount, an artificial hill containing relics of the Buddha. We’d been warned against tuk tuk scams, but our tired feet were grateful for the break and we actually wanted to visit a gem factory to see how gemstones are cut. We beat some of the notorious Bangkok traffic by taking a khlong taxi back to the hotel, only to have our regular car taxi get lost and stuck in traffic. We made it to the train station with just enough time to grab a quick dinner and some water before our overnight journey south.
A khlong is actually a canal, and there are a few key ones cutting across central Bangkok that are served by boats acting as public taxis. A sweet couple escorted us across the street and down a hidden staircase to the narrow canal where we stood on a platform with a sign that looked very informative—if you spoke Thai. We waited for a few minutes and soon a khlong taxi pulled up. These boats were clearly custom-made for this; they were just wide enough for two to pass each other in the canal, and were just tall enough to go under the bridges. Some bridges were so low that the boat’s roof could be retracted down nearly a foot to squeeze underneath. They lowered the plastic tarp that encircled the boat to protect the passengers from spray and we climbed in to sit down on one of the benches. The couple told us to go 5 stops and with that, we were on our way, zooming down the canal. This quickly became one of my favorite forms of transportation. For 8 baht, you got a backstage “cruise” in central Bangkok with the locals. The tie lady was impressive for the sheer variety of ties and great prices, but no two were alike and I was after a matching set.
From there we took the Skytrain. I was impressed at the system’s cleanliness, and divided my attention between the Bangkok skyline and the screens in each car showing commercials. Bangkok truly exists on several levels, with elevated trains, overhead pedestrian walkways, elevated freeways, etc. Heaven help the person with a wheelchair, as elevators were hard to spot. We got off at the main river, Chao Phraya, and boarded a larger water taxi to go up the river. This seemed quite tame after our khlong adventure, but was still great and the scenery was much prettier. We passed several temples and other beautiful buildings before getting off at the royal palace. From there we walked a bit before taking a tuk tuk to see a Buddha statue over 32 meters tall at Wat Indravihan and the Golden Mount, an artificial hill containing relics of the Buddha. We’d been warned against tuk tuk scams, but our tired feet were grateful for the break and we actually wanted to visit a gem factory to see how gemstones are cut. We beat some of the notorious Bangkok traffic by taking a khlong taxi back to the hotel, only to have our regular car taxi get lost and stuck in traffic. We made it to the train station with just enough time to grab a quick dinner and some water before our overnight journey south.
Uncle Ho says hi
We spent our Saturday (21.November) in Hanoi seeing a few highlights and just enjoying the feel of the city. The night before, one of John’s friends told us why he loved Hanoi and it completely changed our perspective. Our travel-weary friends on the cruise had left us with quite a negative impression, but it just goes to show that it’s all about attitude. We found the people to be friendly, the street food tasty, and the transport exciting. Hanoi will be celebrating its 1000th birthday in 2010, which puts any birthday in perspective.
Armed with a hotel map, a guidebook from John’s friend, and a mental image of the landmarks (courtesy of the karaoke videos the night before), we set off. First tourist stop: Uncle Ho (Chi Minh’s) mausoleum. We couldn’t get very close, so really all we saw were the uniformed guards. I thought that calling him “Uncle Ho” was a nickname from the West that the Vietnamese would find insulting, but it turns out he insisted on calling himself that as part of the image he was trying to project to the Vietnamese people. Just around the corner was the One Pillar Pagoda jutting out of a pond on a single stilt like a flower. Then it was off to the Temple of Literature, over 900 years old and Vietnam’s oldest university, based on the teachings of Confucius. It had a series of courtyards and beautiful ancient architecture, but the best part was stumbling upon a concert. Women in traditional dress played instruments, some of which I’d never seen before. A bamboo xylophone looked the coolest, but the most ingenious instrument had different lengths of bamboo tubes and was played by hitting the tube ends.
A short moto ride later and we were back in the Old Quarter, where we stumbled upon a bridal photo shoot outside a Catholic church. The best part was the props: a gold scooter and a bunch of balloons. The architecture in this area is mainly from the French colonial period and was the perfect place to grab lunch. Our criteria: it must be popular with average Vietnamese folks and we must see the food being prepared so we can verify that it’s (relatively) safe and point to what we want if the menu’s not in English. We found a place that met both of these rules and were seated on low stools out on the sidewalk for a meal that was delicious, even if we were never confident what we were eating.
One of our final stops was to Hoan Kiem Lake. There was a myth surrounding the lake and a magical sword that anciently gave them victory over the Chinese, which sounded a little like Excalibur. It’s also the last home of a species of giant turtle that’s a part of this myth, and they have a specimen of it preserved in a temple in the middle of the lake. Sightings of the few remaining turtles are so rare that when they happen, everything grinds to a halt—I was told a government meeting broke up the last time one was seen. I found it so interesting that they could have so much respect for one type of turtle, when around the corner they were eating its cousins. Crossing the red bridge to the temple we interrupted yet another bridal shoot. I should mention that these brides look like princesses…western princesses. I know it’s become common for brides to wear a western dress as well as the traditional Vietnamese outfit on their big day, but we never saw the latter while walking around. Oh, and according to an in-flight magazine, that “traditional” outfit of a long fitted tunic over billowing trousers is actually less than a century old—before then, women wore loose fitting tops and bottoms.
From there it was a race back to the hotel and then to the airport. Our stay in Vietnam was brief but delightful and full of memorable sights: women in conical hats carrying wares in basket scales balanced on their shoulders, old men in berets playing Chinese checkers, hoards of motorbikes racing towards us while we attempted to cross the street, people playing a version of badminton with their feet in the park, and a blend of eastern and western architecture. As an American, I was always a little wary whenever the “American War” was mentioned and was afraid to say or do anything out of line, but the people were friendly and it’s a country I hope to explore further someday.
Armed with a hotel map, a guidebook from John’s friend, and a mental image of the landmarks (courtesy of the karaoke videos the night before), we set off. First tourist stop: Uncle Ho (Chi Minh’s) mausoleum. We couldn’t get very close, so really all we saw were the uniformed guards. I thought that calling him “Uncle Ho” was a nickname from the West that the Vietnamese would find insulting, but it turns out he insisted on calling himself that as part of the image he was trying to project to the Vietnamese people. Just around the corner was the One Pillar Pagoda jutting out of a pond on a single stilt like a flower. Then it was off to the Temple of Literature, over 900 years old and Vietnam’s oldest university, based on the teachings of Confucius. It had a series of courtyards and beautiful ancient architecture, but the best part was stumbling upon a concert. Women in traditional dress played instruments, some of which I’d never seen before. A bamboo xylophone looked the coolest, but the most ingenious instrument had different lengths of bamboo tubes and was played by hitting the tube ends.
A short moto ride later and we were back in the Old Quarter, where we stumbled upon a bridal photo shoot outside a Catholic church. The best part was the props: a gold scooter and a bunch of balloons. The architecture in this area is mainly from the French colonial period and was the perfect place to grab lunch. Our criteria: it must be popular with average Vietnamese folks and we must see the food being prepared so we can verify that it’s (relatively) safe and point to what we want if the menu’s not in English. We found a place that met both of these rules and were seated on low stools out on the sidewalk for a meal that was delicious, even if we were never confident what we were eating.
One of our final stops was to Hoan Kiem Lake. There was a myth surrounding the lake and a magical sword that anciently gave them victory over the Chinese, which sounded a little like Excalibur. It’s also the last home of a species of giant turtle that’s a part of this myth, and they have a specimen of it preserved in a temple in the middle of the lake. Sightings of the few remaining turtles are so rare that when they happen, everything grinds to a halt—I was told a government meeting broke up the last time one was seen. I found it so interesting that they could have so much respect for one type of turtle, when around the corner they were eating its cousins. Crossing the red bridge to the temple we interrupted yet another bridal shoot. I should mention that these brides look like princesses…western princesses. I know it’s become common for brides to wear a western dress as well as the traditional Vietnamese outfit on their big day, but we never saw the latter while walking around. Oh, and according to an in-flight magazine, that “traditional” outfit of a long fitted tunic over billowing trousers is actually less than a century old—before then, women wore loose fitting tops and bottoms.
From there it was a race back to the hotel and then to the airport. Our stay in Vietnam was brief but delightful and full of memorable sights: women in conical hats carrying wares in basket scales balanced on their shoulders, old men in berets playing Chinese checkers, hoards of motorbikes racing towards us while we attempted to cross the street, people playing a version of badminton with their feet in the park, and a blend of eastern and western architecture. As an American, I was always a little wary whenever the “American War” was mentioned and was afraid to say or do anything out of line, but the people were friendly and it’s a country I hope to explore further someday.
Only off by a few degrees
As we stepped off the plane in Hanoi, Vietnam, I couldn’t focus on my first smell as I had in Thailand and Cambodia. Instead, I was forced to focus on how cold it was. The pilot had announced as we were landing that it was 18 degrees outside, and while I still haven’t mastered the metric system I knew that 23 degrees was room temperature (and the lowest temperature I’d felt to date on the trip). Five degrees isn’t that bad in Fahrenheit, but in Celsius it’s significant—and it only got cooler, as a billboard posted 15 degrees on the drive to town. I knew Vietnam was a long, skinny country, but clearly was oblivious to how far north we were. I’d later learn Hanoi is 200 km of the China border, and Halong Bay only 100 km.
My lack of preparation for this part of the trip became chillingly obvious. Thankfully I had trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a light jacket that I’d only expected to use them on the plane. The whole point of this trip was to escape the cold, and here I was traveling right back into it. Mind you, it wasn’t that cold, but when you’re coming from tropical heat and expecting more of the same, temperatures in the low 60’s feel downright frigid. I was a little crestfallen at this turn of events, as my plans of swimming and basking in the heat on the boat slowly dissolved. I couldn’t help but reflect on the mural I’d just seen at Angkor Wat, that one depicting the people shivering in hell. What was I doing (besides miring in self-pity)? The drive to our hotel was mostly pitch-black and I was exhausted from another sunrise, but we did see a motorbike carrying hundreds of roses to market.
The next morning we finally booked our Halong Bay cruise, and had firsthand experience with the phrase “same same” that we’d heard so often on this trip. They’ll say it to convince you that while they’re giving you something other than what you’d wanted, it’s equivalent—and it’s often not. We drove to the Bay with another company’s groups and heard about all the great things they were doing and were really impressed with their guide. Unfortunately, this set the bar a little too high for our group, but thankfully Halong Bay is too spectacular for any company to spoil. I’d first heard about Halong Bay in a geology class. Once again, after seeing a picture I was determined to visit it. No matter that it required another visa for another country, another plane ticket, and that we could only stay for a few days. Thank goodness Cori was willing to go along with it, because it was just as stunning as I’d hoped!
Then we cruised further and further into the Bay, lost in a maze of karst typography until we docked near other boats for the night. Luckily the other passengers were friendly, and we unanimously requested to turn off the Vietnamese karaoke so we could have a quiet night and an early bedtime for once. Cori and I lucked out with a suite at the back of the boat, so we each had a window overlooking the landscape (bayscape?).
My lack of preparation for this part of the trip became chillingly obvious. Thankfully I had trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a light jacket that I’d only expected to use them on the plane. The whole point of this trip was to escape the cold, and here I was traveling right back into it. Mind you, it wasn’t that cold, but when you’re coming from tropical heat and expecting more of the same, temperatures in the low 60’s feel downright frigid. I was a little crestfallen at this turn of events, as my plans of swimming and basking in the heat on the boat slowly dissolved. I couldn’t help but reflect on the mural I’d just seen at Angkor Wat, that one depicting the people shivering in hell. What was I doing (besides miring in self-pity)? The drive to our hotel was mostly pitch-black and I was exhausted from another sunrise, but we did see a motorbike carrying hundreds of roses to market.
The next morning we finally booked our Halong Bay cruise, and had firsthand experience with the phrase “same same” that we’d heard so often on this trip. They’ll say it to convince you that while they’re giving you something other than what you’d wanted, it’s equivalent—and it’s often not. We drove to the Bay with another company’s groups and heard about all the great things they were doing and were really impressed with their guide. Unfortunately, this set the bar a little too high for our group, but thankfully Halong Bay is too spectacular for any company to spoil. I’d first heard about Halong Bay in a geology class. Once again, after seeing a picture I was determined to visit it. No matter that it required another visa for another country, another plane ticket, and that we could only stay for a few days. Thank goodness Cori was willing to go along with it, because it was just as stunning as I’d hoped!
Our day was spent cruising in the Bay with a visit to a beautiful cave, which they “enhanced” with their colorful lighting.
Then we cruised further and further into the Bay, lost in a maze of karst typography until we docked near other boats for the night. Luckily the other passengers were friendly, and we unanimously requested to turn off the Vietnamese karaoke so we could have a quiet night and an early bedtime for once. Cori and I lucked out with a suite at the back of the boat, so we each had a window overlooking the landscape (bayscape?).
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