24 Hours in Saigon

We left the island paradise of Phu Quoc on the early morning flight to Saigon which is now officially called Ho Chi Minh City. Our ATR aircraft was comfortable enough but we did get to enjoy a little early morning turbulence as we took of from the island. We landed in Saigon and quickly found a taxi into town after receiving our baggage. We were just in time for rush hour so the 5 mile trip took about 45 minutes all the while wondering if our taxi driver was taking us on a “scenic” tour to inflate the price of the ride.

I had the cab drop us in the backpacker ghetto which are found in every major tourist town in SE Asia. Backpacker ghettos have sprung up to service the increasing numbers of backpacker type travelers who are flocking to SE Asia these days. These ghettos feature hotels, guesthouses, restaurants and other services that cater to the needs of western travelers. Our modus operandi when arriving in a new city is that I drop Deb in a comfortable spot, sometimes in a café, but more often on the sidewalk. In Saigon she is treated to, as Ian put it, more motos than all of the rest of SE Asia combined while I wander off in search of lodging for the night. After about a half hour search, I report back to Deborah that I have found a beautiful little room with a balcony up a quiet side alley for $20 a night which is well within our normal range of $10-25 per night. We roll our bags down the alley which is chock full of other hotels, guesthouses, bars and restaurants which will provide fertile ground for our culinary needs.Saigon traffic

We relax in the room for a few minutes, flip on the a/c to cool off from the steamy Saigon heat. We head out into the mid-morning heat (did I mention it was hot?) and wander through the parkway which as first seems to provide a respite from the burning sun overhead and the buzzing, beeping motos in the street. Our momentary reverie is shattered by the beeping of a moto on the sidewalk behind us.

When we reach the end of the park, we are faced with a new challenge; crossing the street through an endless stream of the aforementioned buzzing, beeping motos. Riding 16 abreast on the boulevard. Since there is never a break in the stream we test out the method to cross the street as suggested in our guidebook. This method is reinforced by watching several locals perform the maneuver. After ensuring no trucks or buses are in sight we simply step off the curb in a leap of faith. The method entails walking slowly straight across the stream without attempting to dodge or weave the oncoming motos. This method enables the motos to gauge your speed and location and take evasive action. The method works flawlessly as long as one resists the urge to run screaming in panic to the opposite curb. We arrive safely on the opposite side much to our amazement.

We arrive at the large covered market of Ben Thanh. It is a huge market covering several acres and contains clothing, dry goods, groceries, vegetables, fish, meat, hardware and just about anything else the modern Vietnamese home might require. After shopping for some souvenirs we are enticed by the food stalls in the center of the market. We order some fried rice and shrimp and sit in the now sweltering market cooled only by the cold Saigon Beer we are pouring down our throats. Deb strikes up a conversation with a Canadian who sits down beside us. Practically the first words out of his mouth is a remembrance of Robin Williams’ weather report from the movie Good Morning Vietnam. “Today the weather will be hot and shitty with tomorrow continued hot and shitty.” That, dear readers is Saigon weather in a nutshell.

Street vendor

We give up on the market and return to our room after running the gauntlet of buzzing beeping motos.
We hide out until early evening and decide to walk over to the post office to investigate the cost and procedure to mail some of our accumulated treasures home. We find the post office without too much trouble. It appears to be a modern facility with very helpful staff. We gather the necessary forms and cross the street and haggle for a box and start the walk back while looking for a highly recommended sushi bar in which to have dinner. I know, call us crazy---sushi in Saigon? However, there is a Japanese ghetto in Saigon with blocks of sushi and Japanese restaurants. We find the sushi bar and walk in the door to be greeted by 6 uniformed hostesses yelling the traditional, “Irashai!!!!”. We sit down at the bar and are treated to a hot scented towel. We peruse the menu which is priced about half of the cost is in America but exorbitant by Vietnamese standards. We go crazy and wander out an hour later, $30 poorer, but stuffed to the gills(pardon the pun) with excellent sushi, sake, and beer. We aren’t dirt bags all of the time.

We start back to our hotel but decide to detour and take a walk along the Saigon River in the still stifling heat. We walk down some streets that are a combination of sidewalk food stands, pool halls and brothels. We do enjoy scenic tours of cities. After several minutes we arrive at the river. There were two huge floating restaurants lit up like Christmas trees, one of which had lights that outlined a sharp toothed fish. We tried to walk along the river but next our way was blocked by a stream of motos coming off the cross river ferry. We no sooner got through that than finding our way blocked by another stream of motos going on to the ferry. After struggling through a few more obstacles we left the river to find the road back to our hotel. We scored a big bag of muesli on our way back to the room which would provide a welcome respite from the steady diet of fried eggs provided by most of the hotels we have visited.

After a few hours of steady walking we arrived back at our hotel for a much needed rest.

Creative Vietnamese wiring

The next morning was spent packing the box that we would entrust to the Vietnamese postal service for a journey home. After packing, inventorying, and filling out forms we set out for the post office. We were met there by very helpful postal worker who helped Deb fill out the rest of the forms. He then performed a customs inspection which consisted of asking us if there were any cds or dvds in the box. There were no questions about heroin, child pornography, or vegetation. I guess he figured that was U.S. Customs’ problem. After being assured we had no Cds he put the box on a backless office chair. He attached one end of a roll of packing tape at the top of the box and then proceeded to spin the chair as he gradually lowered the roll of tape which was unwinding around the box, effectively encasing four sides of the box in packing tape. He cut the end with a razor sharp box cutter and then proceeded to tape the entire top and bottom of the box by laying a strip of tape across the box, deftly slicing the end of the tape and repeating this process in an extremely rapid process until the every bit of cardboard was covered with tape. He placed the box on a cart which we wheeled over to the payment window where the box was put on an automatic strapping machine which placed two heavy nylon straps around the box.

We left the post office with our packs fifteen kilos lighter and $70 poorer and rushed back to our hotel to catch the noon bus to Dalat in hopes of finding cooler weather and fewer motos.

Valentine's greetings

Dear family and friends

We just wanted to wish you a Happy Valentines Day. We love and miss you all.

We had some very good news today. Ian got accepted into the Berkeley masters program. We are very proud of him.

Moto madness

Back in the 60s I believe it was Huey Newton that said you are either part of the problem or part of the solution. As a traveler you are often both. Your dollars give a much needed boost to the local economy, especially if you are traveling in the developing world as we are. You are also part of the problem because the usage of resources such as water means less for the local inhabitants. We do our best to conserve resources wherever we are but sometimes we break down and become more a part of the problem than we would otherwise wish. With that caveat I'll take you along with us on our last day on Phu Quoc.

We decided to spend our last day on Phu Quoc exploring a little more of the island. The most efficient way to do this was too rent a small motorcycle for the day. Those of you that have been following this blog know how I have struggled with the constant din of beeping motos and risking life and limb to cross the street in the big cities we have visited. It was with some reluctance that I became part of the problem that day but it was the only choice available to explore some of the remoter parts of the island.

I went out in morning to find a moto to rent. The first machine I was offered had bald tires and looked pretty tired otherwise. Since most of our travel would be on dirt roads and paths, some of them remote, I passed on this machine. About 50 feet further down the road I was offered a near new Suzuki with new tires. Still it was a less than ideal choice because it had street tires and suspension.

The bike owner gave me a ride back to the hotel to pick up Deb and left me the keys and 2 helmets. There was no rental contract, instruction on particular idiosyncracies of the bike or any gas in the tank. I wasn't worried as the bike was an automatic shift with electric starter. What could be simpler? I went and grabbed Deb, put the key in the ignition and nothing happened. I tried everything that usually works like pulling on the brakes and looking for lockout switches. I have owned numerous motorcycles and scooters and had never encountered such a problem. A security guard from our hotel came over and he couldn't figure it out either. At least now I did not feel like a complete idiot. He called the gardener over who confidently flipped up the kickstand and the bike fired up immediately. Undaunted we roared, or I should say putted, out of the parking lot of the hotel.

"Born to be Wild" by Steppenwolf ran through my head and adrenaline coursed through my veins as we zoomed through the town of Duong Dong on our way to the north coast. After a quick stop on the other side of town for gas and directions, we found the right road. Free of the town traffic, I opened her up to 25 mph. It was then the short comings of the street suspension and tires were noticeable. Every loose bit caused the bike to swerve in a nerve wracking manner. Another problem was every bump in the road made Deborah's innards bang against her pelvic bone. As for braking or taking curves each of these actions resulted in sliding or broad sliding. Despite this I pretended to have fun so as not to alarm Deb. Within a mile or so of leaving town a large road construction project funneled me off on a side road which took us through a small village. It was interesting to see how the Vietnamese live. It was not a pretty sight. The detritus of the industrial age was everywhere. It made Appalachia look like the upper east side of Manhattan.
One of the nicer villages we passed through

We came out the other side of the village into the countryside but as we went along the road became smaller and smaller until it became a single track and then appeared to peter out altogether right in front of a house. A seemingly very friendly Vietnamese woman came with a puzzled look on her face as if wondering why we were stopped in her front yard. I showed her our map and she gestured that she would show us the way to go. She hopped on her moto and we followed her a few miles of single track through open jungle. It was probably a beautiful ride, but my full attention was on the track which was an unpredictable mix of leaves, sticks, mud, loose sand, firm dirt and everything in between. It was kind of fun but an extremely challenging ride. When we reached the main road again she smiled and I smiled and we waved and took off as she held out her hand for an expected payment. So much for the friendliness of the Vietnamese.One of the local "roads"

We continued on our journey through a luxuriant green jungle. We visited a few of the small resorts in the area which were a mix of very nice and very funky. A local resort

We then went on through the jungle and finally the road started following the beach which was very nice and deserted. We stopped briefly at what was once a beautiful beach but was marred by lots of trash. We continued on but by then I was starving so we stopped in a fishing village briefly and bought some fruit to stave off the hunger pangs until we found a suitable place for a real lunch. We motored on to another resort but there was a tour busload of Vietnamese who were playing a rowdy game of soccer on the beach adjacent to the tables in the restaurant. Not wishing to have a soccer ball with our lunch we motored on for several more miles still looking for lunch. We started up over a mountain that we thought would take us to our goal which was a lighthouse on the northwest corner of the island and fantasized about a restaurant by the lighthouse. The road was steep and windy and I was being extra cautious which turned out to be a good thing. On a particularly sharp uphill curve we were met by a dump truck full of dirt going way too fast. As soon as I saw it, I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. He obviously was not paying attention and saw me too late, panicked and slammed on his brakes. The back end of the truck started to slide towards us but I saw that he would clear us but it gave us a moment of pure adrenalin rush. Deb was convinced her heart had stopped. As the truck passed us we turned to watch him over correct and go up on two wheels flinging dirt and rocks out of the truck. He over corrected the other way and went so far up on the other two wheels I was sure he was going to crash. In retrospect I believe he dumped enough dirt out of the truck to lower the center of gravity and enable him to stay upright. It looked like a stunt out of a Hollywood movie. Again we continued on.

As I watched the gas gauge move towards empty, and the sun sinking in the western sky,I became concerned that we were not on the right road. It was difficult to tell where we were as all we had was a tourist map. We stopped again to ask directions. After much sign language and pointing at the map we realized we were not on the right road. Reluctantly we turned around and headed back towards a restaurant we had seen on a beach about 5 miles back.Lunch on the beach

We stopped at a beautiful spot right on a sheltered bay. The table was right on the sand. We ordered a cold beer to wash the red dirt out of our mouths. This was followed by a plate of stir fried noodles with seafood and vegetables. After a few more beers we stripped down to our swimsuits and dove into the crystal clear water. It had the usual trash but was beautiful nonetheless. After a quick swim and conversation with some fellow travelers from Finland we downed an ice coffee and turned the bike toward home.Deborah is nearly eaten by a pod

The return trip was as eventful as the trip out. As we entered a small village looking for gas we slowed to see a man holding electrical wires up just high enough for us to pass under. Deborah was very nervous about this but we had no choice. There was no gas station in town but we spied a man with bottles of gasoline by the road. We bought a liter which was enough to get us home. We putted back out onto the dirt highway to find a huge pile of dirt that had just been dumped which spanned the road. There was just enough room to ease the moto by on one side of the pile but for the last 20 feet. When I was almost through to the other side I opened the throttle as far as it would go and powered through the remainder of the pile. Deb opted to walk for this part of the journey. Next we came upon a dump truck parked in the middle of the road with just enough room to pass. As we passed a huge excavator swung its arm towards the truck tossing dirt and rocks in our direction. Again, I went full throttle and passed as a head sized boulder came crashing out of the truck.

The final adventure on our moto tour was humorous and sad. We noticed two other motos stopped in the road ahead. As we got closer we saw that one fellow was off his moto wrestling with a crate about 4 feet long that that straddled the other moto. As we approached even closer I could see that there was about a 300 pound pig upside down in the crate. It would have been very amusing but as we passed the terrified squeals of the pig rang in our ears long after we could no longer hear it. Finally we arrived at our hotel just in time for our last sunset on Phu Quoc.

Administrative note: A few of our readers have tried to post comments. I have noticed that it does not always work the first time. Just repeat the process and it usually works. We love the feedback.

Phu Quoc

"Our" beach on Phu Quoc

After a month of hard travel through big, hot, dirty, noisy SE Asian cities more numerous than I care to remember, we were ready for calmer settings and a little R&R. We are now on the island of Phu Quoc in the South China Sea off the southwest coast of Vietnam. Our guidebook and internet sources suggested it was an unspoiled tropical paradise yet to be discovered by tourists. Of course any traveler knows once a location makes it into the guidebook, it is no longer a “secret”. Despite this, Phu Quoc is a reasonable destination for anyone seeking some rest and relaxation in a tropical setting.

Our island home

The long path to the beach

The mega resorts so common in much of the world have not found their way here---yet. However, there are numerous hotels and guesthouses to fit all budgets and tastes ranging from four star resorts costing well over $100 per night to palm frond huts on the beach which can be had for as little as $15 per night. There are restaurants for every taste and budget as well.

Unfortunately, like everywhere else in the developing world (which used to be called the third world) there are problems with too rapid development and the resulting trash associated with the first (or developed) world without the infrastructure to handle it all. Beaches in front of hotels are kept clean for the guests but the undeveloped beach next door is usually covered in trash mostly in the form of plastic bags.

Despite these problems, Phu Quoc is a worthy destination. There are numerous beaches with beautiful white sandy shores. The water is crystal clear and 85 degrees. Most days are a mix of clouds and sun with an air temperature of 85-90 degrees. It is quite humid but there is usually an onshore breeze that prevents the heat and humidity from becoming oppressive. The shore is lined with coconut palms which is one of my favorite trees. They provide food, shade and fuel especially if one is camping. We don’t need the fuel as we are “camping” in a beautiful little bungalow a few feet from the sand with air conditioning, hot water, and breakfast included for the not so princely sum of $35 a night. Our days are spent lounging on the beach under palapa umbrellas lulled into insensibility by the waves lapping at the shore, a cool breeze for our sweaty brow and ice cold Tiger beer to quench our thirst. It is a welcome change from the frenetic pace of the city.

The fruit lady slices and dices mangos for 30 cents

There is not much else to do here which is fine with us. There is snorkeling and diving available but our one snorkeling expedition to the An Tho’i Archipelago just off the south coast of Phu Quoc was a little disappointing when compared with other locations we have visited like the Red Sea in Egypt or the Adaman Sea in Indonesia. The coral is mostly dead as a result of bleaching due to increased UV from the diminishing ozone in the atmosphere. There is also not a lot of fish left due to over fishing and degradation of habitat. Even so, we had an enjoyable day exploring snorkeling sites on three different islands of the archipelago. Thanks to Deborah, I have slowed down my movements in the water while snorkeling. She just drifts with the current and sees many more sea creatures than I used to. Had I not used her technique I would have missed the 50 pound grouper hiding down in the rocks as I lay motionless in the water above him. Even though the coral and fish were not the best I have seen, it is hard not to enjoy snorkeling in 85 degree water in a beautiful island setting on a sunny day.

Sunset over the south China Sea

Ankor Wat

Deborah's triumpant entry into Ankor Wat

I was an avid reader of National Geographic magazine from the time I was about 8 years old. Aside from the pictures of bare breasted native women I was most intrigued by the pyramids of Egypt and the temples of Ankor Wat in Cambodia. The pictures of these mysterious temples enshrouded in jungle fired my young imagination. I could not conceive of anything that could be so exotic and I vowed to go there some day to make sure it was real. A few weeks ago I honored that vow.

Early morning mist rises from the temple

Ankor Wat is the generic name for a huge complex of temples that covers over 60 square miles. The first view of Ankor Wat is across a giant moat that surrounds the main temple. The moat reflects the soaring temples against the verdant green of the jungle and the azure blue of the tropical sky. The Kmer architecture with its ornately decorated tiered structures is breathtaking in detail as well as scope. It is so different from anything else I have seen in the world. In short, it is incomparable.

Detail of frieze showing the dancing apsaras or "angels"

The first temples were built around the beginning of the 11th century and construction continued into the late 14th century. The first were built to honor Buddha but as Hinduism became more popular some were “remodeled” to reflect this change and new temples were built to honor the panoply of Hindu gods.

Some of the complexes are very extensive and take hours to explore. They are in various states of restoration and disrepair. Ankor Wat temple, for which the whole site is named is in the best condition and is nearly as good as when it was built 800 years ago. My personal favorite was Wat Preah Kahn. Part of my affinity for this particular temple is probably due to visiting early in the morning when there was no one else around. Approaching the temple down a long corridor of jungle, the temple was lit by the early morning sun as the mist rose over the jungle. The jungle still partially embraces this temple with giant trees entwined in the stone of the temple. Strains of classical music alternated in my brain with the theme song from the Indiana Jones movies.

Unfortunately, Ankor Wat is being loved to death by the millions of tourists that pass through each year. The Cambodian government is beginning to block off parts of the temples. If you have any desire to see it, my advice is to go now before more of it is closed to the public.

Another nymph under a tree which has overgrown the temple

It really is difficult to give a good description of this amazing place so please enjoy the pictures and use your own power of imagination. Better still, get out of your chair and go see it. It will not fail to enchant, amaze and impress you.

Eastern gate of the temple by tuk-tuk

Rach Gia, Vietnam

I was busted by one of our readers by trying to slack off and have you all read Ian and Tiara's blog. Thanks Carol. :) It is nice to know someone is reading. The only way we know you are reading is if you comment on the blog or drop us an email. Keep those cards and letters coming.

Anyway, we left Can Tho and are now in Rach Gia which ranks among the real s@#%holes of the world. We arrived late afternoon with no idea where we were in the town as the guidebook provided no map despite the fact that many independent travelers, such as ourselves, end up here in transit to the island of Phu Quoc. Arrival at bus stations in Vietnam is always chaotic. There are always about 20 moto drivers vying for the priviledge of ripping you off by coercing you to jump on back of their motorcycle at exorbitant rates to haul you off to whichever hotel will give them a kickback. Needless to say, neither Deb nor I are eager to get on a motorcycle much less with our baggage. However, in this town, feeling the need to get to a tourist agency and get a map so I would at least know, 1. Where we were; 2. How to get to the ferry to Phu Quoc in the morning and 3. Where I would be likely to find a hotel since we had not pre booked anything for this town.

After haggling the price for a moto ride down from 50,000 to 15,000 Vietnamese dong, (a little less than a dollar) I got to the tourist agency to find it closed. Additionally, I was right in the center of town at rush hour with 200,000 motos zooming around and frantically beeping their horns. On top of this, still I had no idea where in the town I was, there were no sidewalks so I was wandering aimlessly around while being swarmed by the aforementioned 200,000 motos. It was not one of my finer moments traveling.

I finally found another moto to take me back to where I left Deborah. After much hand wringing, gnashing of teeth, and buckets of sweat ( did I mention it was 90 degrees at 90% humidity?) we decided to catch a cab to the area that we knew the ferry would leave from in the morning. We would look for a room there. Fortunately we got an honest cab driver and 75 cents later we were dropped in front of an acceptable hotel where we decided to bed down for the night. I asked the proprietor if there were restaurants in the area to be told that the only restaurants were in the "center" from whence we had just come.

We walked back to the center which was only about a ten minute walk along the "charming" waterfront which was an extremely dirty side channel of the Mekong. We were assaulted by an endless and mindless litany of small children screeching, "Hello, hello, hello" . We escaped them to not find any restaurant we would consider eating in, again surrounded by 200,000 careening and beeping motos. We finally gave up the idea of a restaurant and decided we would find a store and at least get some potato chips or something else to sustain ourselves. We walked all the way back to the hotel without finding a store. But right across the street from the hotel we found a little pho restaurant. For the uninitiated, pho is the national dish of Vietnam. It is a beef broth with noodles and other "stuff". Usually it is reliably good but this night, in concert with everything else, it was bad but edible enough to get us through the night and hopefully on to a better day tomorrow.

As you may have ascertained, dear reader, it isn't all fun and games out here. I would post some pictures of this place but we could not even find a good photo. :)