August 17 to 19—SaiGon, Vietnam, and the Exciting Game of Dodge Motocyclo

Dear Family and Friends,

Friday, August 17, Martha’s spots were worse, and she still felt pretty poorly, so we had another down day in SaiGon. All day we considered going to the hospital to get the spots diagnosed, but instead just lounged around the coolness of the hotel room, working some more on the Angkor postings from Cambodia, and taking turns being wishy-washy about the cyclo ride to the hospital. Eventually, however, the hunger came upon us, and we ventured out into the city to stay local for a bite to eat. We had just settled down at Cafe Go2 (many of the local establishments are numbered and go simply by their number, but this one uses a catch: “Go2Eat, Go2Drink, Go2Sleep”) on the sidewalk tables to enjoy a brunch of pancakes and coffee. The coffee here is served single-cup style, with a little metal filter placed over a glass. We learned patience as the hot water dripped slowly through the coffee grinds to make some very strong black coffee. Add a little fresh milk or sweetened-condensed milk, maybe a bit of ice on a hot day, and you have a caffeinated delicacy!

We fended off the queries from many locals to buy books, postcards, sunglasses off of thick poster board, cigarettes (an easy one to fend off since neither of us smoke), lighters, and even Tiger balm! The women and children carrying the books were especially impressive as they had towering stacks of books that were tied together with several, long pieces of cloth and then balanced on the hip to cross the street to the next group of farangs (Thai for foreigners). One’s experience and age could be determined by how tall their stacks were; the most we saw was taller than the woman carrying them when it was placed on the ground!

No sooner had we finished our meals and hankered down to slowly enjoy our coffee than Kevin, the gentleman from the Vietnamese embassy in Phnom Penh, walked by and sat down to join us for a bit of chit chat!! He was not staying long in SaiGon; he had just arrived but was leaving the next morning to go directly to the beachfront of Nha Trang, VietNam. We agreed that we’d email him (we had already received one email from him since our initial encounter) when we arrived to try to meet up once again, and said goodbye to our new chance-encounter-friend!

Kevin had taken a peek at Martha’s spots and thought that they might be an allergic reaction to the many mosquito bites on her legs, so we crossed the street to the pharmacy, where the idea was supported by the pharmacist reaching first for some antihistamine cream. We paid for it as well as some Tiger balm that contains an antibiotic and soothing agent. Martha had been routinely applying the lavender prickly heat powder that we picked up in Bangkok to her leg spots, and it seemed to be helping, keeping them from the bright red that they had been when they first appeared. When we returned to the room, however, the spots were brighter red than ever, and had spread a bit across her shins. She applied the anti-itch cream to one leg and the Tiger balm to the other to see which helped. Both were soothing, but the spots remained.

We whiled away the afternoon in our hotel room, where Martha got the last of the Angkor days posted to the blog and rested in the air con in front of the television. Soon, we had fallen asleep and hours passed. Martha awoke in the evening and started out the door alone to head to the hospital to get her spots checked, but smartly wimped out of going it solo, returning instead to continue her nap for a couple more hours. The rest helped, but she was pretty sad when we awoke as the sun was going down. Knowing that the worst time to go to the hospital in America is nighttime and on the weekend, we opted to wait another night to see how she felt and how the spots looked in the morning.

Back on the street, we headed to the riverside and crossed one of the bridges overlooking the rapid development of the SaiGon skyline and walked along streets where few tourists routinely tread, ogling the indecipherable signs until we found another bridge to cross farther up the cityscape. We crossed and headed back towards the hotel, Martha slowing down again as the evening was as pretty darn hot as the day. We stopped for dinner overlooking one of the busy intersections, passing on the sautéed beef penis with green peppers or sautéed ‘skin-left grog’ (read: skin-less or skin-still-on frog, perhaps) and instead opting for cheese-stuffed beef rolls and a luscious glass noodle salad with green peppers and strips of meat. The corner-block motorbike-heavy ‘television’ was in full swing as the crazy traffic entertained us during dinner, before heading home for an early bedtime.

Saturday, August 18, the spots were STILL there, even with all the creams and powders and ointments, but the rest had helped us both feel much better from previous cold and allergy issues. We were up early, around the corner in front of the Sinh Café sipping fruit shakes across the street in time to join our 8:00 AM day tour of SaiGon.

Our first stop was one of the older Chinese temples, the Giac Lam Pagoda from the 18th century, where monks were celebrating before the altar and a large part of the temple was set up for a community meal. The deities here were more colorful in comparison with the gold-tones of Thailand, and the fat, happy Buddha that we tend to associate more with Chinese culture (but now know is prominent in Viet Nam, as well) had begun to appear. The grounds contained religious sculptures, and gentlemen lounged on park benches.

We drove through Chinatown to the local market of Cho Binh Tay, where our little group of a dozen was given a half hour of free time to wander the stalls. We had no desire to purchase anything along the way today, so we walked through the area displaying cloth, past the open air vegetable market, and to a booth where we were able to get some coffee. How can we still be so tired after so much sleep the day before? Waking up is hard to do, but the strength of Vietnamese coffee can definitely help rectify that issue.

Back to the van right on time, we headed to the second temple of the day, Thien Hau Temple, which was dedicated to the Chinese goddess of the sea (no wonder Martha liked this stop the best) and was beautifully adored with mosaic masterpieces depicting local life habits in the rafters of the temple outskirts. The guide explained that the swastika-looking emblem was actually a good-luck symbol that appears in reverse of the emblem associated with the Nazi regime. Large cauldrons on three legs held sand and the red sticks of former incense. A couple of locals hanged incense spirals from the ceiling that had been purchased by visitors and labeled with a wish or the name of a loved one to be kept in prayer. Paintings prettied up other simple walls. A triad of deities clothed in orange held center stage for focused worship. Another in gold-lay and distinguishing red dress had the stylish ‘Ho Chi Minh-style’ mustache and beard still worn by many older Vietnamese men.

Our fourth stop was to the artisan’s shop to view artists at work. We witnessed an age-old technique of carving of wood, placing of the egg shells or cutting of the mother-of-pearl designs, and the lacquer application for a high grade finish to the work. Many of the artisans are trained Agent Orange victims whose legs do not work well, but whose arms and hands create these great works of beauty. Each wall hanging can take up to three months to complete, depending on the size, level of detail, and whether the pattern is made of egg shells, mother of pearl, or a combination of both. We had opportunity to watch the artisans in action before their lunch break and then enter the government-run shop to see (and consider purchasing) their work on wallboard, small souvenirs, and on the backs of chair and table sets.

Back at the Sinh office close to our hotel, we had two hours for lunch and a short nap. We enjoyed a bowl each of the local soup (pho bo) around the corner before enjoying the air con in our room during the hottest hours of the day. Martha’s spots were still there … red even for the creams applied. She returned to the prickly heat powder approach for the afternoon, and they were not too bad by the end of the day.

On the minibus once again, we journeyed to the VietNam War Remnants Museum, which housed a lot of leftovers from the American military during the American War in VietNam (perhaps known to you as the ‘Vietnam War’). The grounds were littered with a US tank and several planes. The main building to the right of the entrance contained the photos of 14 foreign photographers who won Pulitzer Prizes and who each lost their lives during the bloody war. Images depicted soldiers in the thick of battle, sunk beneath the waters of this water-rich land, fleeing, fighting, and generally warring beside the South Vietnamese army. Others showed the locals, often scared and surrounded by their children as they tried to escape the path of bombs and soldiers. Each was especially impressive because we knew that the man holding the camera that took the photo gave everything that they had to continue to tell the world the story of those times.

Inside the main building, which we barely had time to explore completely, there were chronicles of how negatively war affects a country. We found a variety of examples of how Agent Orange has continued to affect the Vietnamese people—the men and women exposed to the chemicals dispersed by American airships to destroy the foliage that kept the Viet Cong safe among the trees in their guerrilla warfare style had more than a lasting effect on the environment of VietNam. It has also destroyed the bodies of innocent babies and young Vietnamese who were not even dreamed of in the days when the war was ongoing. And there are still children of Agent Orange walking the streets of VietNam today: adults with missing limbs selling books in the streets from carts made so that they have propel themselves fluidly to get around. Of course, the display barely talked about the fact that many American soldiers’ children also suffered from the toxic effects of Agent Orange on their children, but how could it not?

Our next-to-final stop took the longest time to explore, as our guide got out of the bus along with us to bring us through the old royal residence, now called Reunification Hall. This large four-story building, with basement, had been left unchanged since April 30, 1975, when SaiGon surrendered and they moved the capital from Ho Chi Minh City/SaiGon, to Hanoi, VietNam in the conquering North of the Viet Cong. Rooms with late-20th century decoration (looked like 70s to us with its bold patterns) were ready for conferencing, discussions of current affairs, welcoming of guests, and political debate; the basement remains wartime ready.

Finally, we stopped at the Notre Dame Cathedral next to the grand Post Office. Dani was particularly taken with the neon on all of the religious sculptures in the majestic Catholic church. It was built during the French occupation, between 1877 and 1883. Not as grand as the cathedrals seen in Europe earlier in our trip, but it was wonderful to be able again to take a few moments before the religious symbols with which we are most familiar. The walls of the church were cluttered with the names of devoted gone but not forgotten. The pews in the front several rows contained Vietnamese women chanting in unison to celebrate God’s blessings upon their lives.

Across the busy street, we entered the main SaiGon Post Office, which reminded Martha of Philly’s 30th Street Train Terminal. Benches littered the front entrance way and the back walls were crowded with stops to help visitors find the right way to deliver their deliverables. We didn’t spend much time inside, instead opting to sit on the curb as our group collected to return to the Sinh Café stop. The bus swung by the Ben Thanh Market and let a few off as their final stop, but we'd enjoyed those sights the night before, so opted for the return to the tour office. The tour ended for us right on time, close to 5:00 PM, and we had plenty of time to walk down the road to find dinner at a local Italian-style eatery that also fashioned Vietnamese cuisine. Yearning for a taste of home, Martha ordered what she thought would be a veggie burger but that turned out to be grilled vegetables on a bun, but with glorious Freedom fries; Dani enjoyed noodles with veggies once again, but wished she had ordered the pizza that the couple behind us had. Plain, but still fine fare for our last night in SaiGon.

Sunday, August 19, we packed up and headed to the fruit shake place by 7:00 AM, where Dani got us shakes and some sandwiches for the road. By 7:15 AM, we were settled on our Sinh Tour bus to the mountain town of Dalat, VietNam. Oh, glorious chance at cooler air after a month and a half of heat, heat, heat!

The six-hour bus ride turned into closer to eight as we did not arrive into Dalat, along the grand lake that is its centerpiece, until 3:30 PM. We chose to throw on our packs and walk to our choice hotel room at Dreams Hotel. Along the way, we encountered a couple of the guys who work for the Easy Riders group of motorcyclists. For a fee of 35 to 45 USD per day, one can procure these kind, eloquent drivers to take them around the lesser traveled parts of VietNam. Too rich for our blood these days, but we were thankful for the first of the Easy Riders we encountered, as he pointed us in the proper direction of our hotel, and then showed up again a few hundred meters later to make sure we were on the right path. We did stop for a few moments along the way, however, as we ran into Phuc once again … he was the waiter at the Go2 Restaurant where we encountered Kevin again in SaiGon, and happened to be headed to the cooler air of Dalat at the same time we were for a three-day holiday from the rigors of his job in the big city.

North of the lakeside area, we checked into Dreams Hotel for 15 USD for our one night in town, complete with breakfast in the morning, two wonderfully comfortable beds, an enclosed shower, soap, sheets, and another beautiful balcony with lots of greenery. We made sure the door locked and headed out to explore the town in the cooler air. (Did we mention how much we were looking forward to the cooler mountain air??)

In the wide streets of Dalat, so much easier to walk than in SaiGon, we encountered lots of smiles and “Hellos” as we walked around. This area is known for its waterfalls and wonderful trekking excursions, but with just an afternoon to enjoy this lush atmosphere (so sad) we walked West towards the interesting adornments of Camly Falls. Along the way, we did the necessary housekeeping task of buying toothpaste for 8,500 dong (about 0.50 USD), finding it easy to point at the local open market shop where the container was pre-labeled with the price (a rarity for all goods here).

We walked past some amazing old homes from the French colonization of this part of the world … quaint structures with great gardens and walkways to the front door that have been too poorly maintained over the years. Over-growth and decay threatened many of them, still obviously occupied by families. Along the river, we encountered an area less walked … and our sneakers got muddy in the banks of the river where they were making new pathways. Construction and development are rampant along every other walkway of this country, it seems. Our sneakers are at completely different stages on this top … Dani’s now with holes in the sides where her little toes peek out, Martha’s her ‘newest shoes’ that have yet to be tarnished—although she’s already given up one pair of shoes and her sandals are broken, worn, and unlikely to make it back to Europe.

We encountered what we saw was an impassable forward versus a reasonable backtrack, and headed back to the rickety bridge that we knew would get us across the river. Martha asked a girl if we were headed towards Camly Falls, and found our way to the place shortly thereafter, still with quite a bit of sunlight to enjoy the falls area. The falls were pretty, but what was more interesting to this particular attraction was the mix of Native-American–looking men battling tigers, nearby cartoonish alligators and swans, one towering elephant, and real live horse and zebra. We walked the grounds as the rains began, with few other people in sight. Dani loved the Calla Lily farm on the outskirts of the complex. We watched as two men used an electrified net to catch fish in the base of the falls area. They threw their bounty up from the water’s edge where a young girl went to collect the stunned fish into a bucket for fresh keeping. At one point, the man with the net threw the fish beyond the edge of the landscape and back into the water, losing the foodstuffs in the process to the dismay of his compatriots.

From the waterfalls, we walked to Dalat Cathedral as the nightlight set in. Our guide post? What Martha dubbed ‘the Lighted Awful Tower’ … an obvious reminder that the French had great influence on this culture. The Cathedral was in use at the time that we passed; people could be seen out the doorway, so we did not enter as tourists to disrupt whatever ceremony might be in progress. Turning instead with hungry eyes back towards town, we found a wonderful place to dine, guided as always by our instinct to follow where the tables were packed.

Dinner at a particularly local-filled place was among our favorites so far in this trip; the bowls of grub were huge and delicious: Mekong Delta style seafood soup for Martha and rice noodle with “mackerel” (we think it was actually tofu from the texture and non-fishiness of it) for Dani. We split some rice cakes that were a treat to eat: you put them on lettuce with some picked cabbage and carrot, wrapped it up, and dipped it all in a tasty sweet tea-colored liquid. Boy were we stuffed on this tasty dinner, which cost us all of 5 USD! Always eat where the locals love the food … words to live by to not only find a great dining experience, but also to avoid food sickness as the more frequented places always have better food turnover and freshness!

Back by foot towards the hotel, Martha talked Dani into exploring an interesting-looking basement bar called Amorphis, which was a Heavy Metal Bar. Seemed to Martha like an interesting scene to explore, and it was. The basement was filled with about 30 Asian men and seven women (ourselves included). The sound system was awesome and the television showed taped episodes of Headbanger’s Ball from MTV2. The crowd was pretty young, and very into swinging their heads up and down, enjoying the rocking boom of the music. We have no idea if they understood the lyrics or not, but with all the screaming, we didn’t understand much of what they were saying and it’s our native tongue (supposedly). Interestingly, the bar menu was all in Vietnamese, but we figured out some safe bets from our limited Vietnamese understanding, still able to note that only about two items on the menu were alcoholic. It was dark and smoky and really neat to experience the vibe of the local rockers.

We walked back through town to the Central Market as it approached 9 PM, witnessing the mass of coat-wearing and sweater-selling peoples with their wares in the streets. Finally, we headed back to the hotel to work on the blog making notes from previous days for a bit and were happy to get an early-to-bed night so that we could get up for our breakfast and too-early 7:15 AM pick-up for our bus out of town. Onward to the beach of Nha Trang, VietNam!

In love and light,

Martha and Dani