Dear Family and Friends,
Saturday, September 1, we awoke with our alarm at 8:00 AM, dressed, had breakfast at the hotel again (coffee and a bread with jam and butter), and discussed our options for a visa to Laos and the next few days’ travels with Tien, the head front desk man of the Darling Backpackers Guesthouse. On his recommendation, we decided to take the “overnight” bus ('17 hours,' ... yeah right) from HaNoi, VietNam, to Vientiane, Laos, starti
ng the afternoon of 3 September. In the meantime, we booked a day trip to HaLong Bay to the East of HaNoi (one of those ‘must-see’ places in VietNam or ‘you haven’t really seen VietNam’) for 2 September with hopes of getting back in time to see some of the VietNam Day Festivities ongoing around town that same day.
With all that settled, we headed out to walk West past the large old French military complexes (perhaps homes to diplomats or other officials) to the Presidential Palace and over to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum. Martha was in the lead, so we took several wrong turns before arriving finally to the North end of where we might catch a glimpse at Ho Chi Minh’s (HCM) body, only to be continuously told to keep walking around and around, and no, you cannot cut across 
the lawn, go around. “Do you want a moto? It is still at least 10 minutes to walk.” Why would we give up and take a moto now? Oh no, we would walk it. But, boy, we were hot, exposed in the bright sun even at 10:00 AM to the point of dripping sweat and sharing an obvious display of areas where our bodies were losing liquid rapidly. We knew we had to dress respectfully to be permitted entrance, and unfortunately, our respectful clothes were not our coolest.
After what seemed like an extra half hour that could have been easily shortened by a quick walk across a field, we got in the proper line (Dani was even asked to move one-inch to the right so that she would be standing ON the white line) and through the security check where our bags were scanned, precious water bottles taken without the option of drinking
them before handing them over, and cameras handed over to be placed in red and black bags for post-HCM-view retrieval. We were ushered through more lines, and could finally see the grey, towering, stacked building immediately before us instead of taunting us with its Las Vegas-like closeness from across an open field.
Our journey was rewarded, as we enjoyed sub-arctic temperatures within the doorways of the mausoleum. We could have spent all day lounging in the chill air, but the too-fast moving line was propelled constantly forward by guards in white, urging foreigners and locals alike to move one-inch to the left to be in the proper place or a few steps forward to close the gap between you and the person ahead. Everyone around us respectfully walked into the room where The ‘Ho Chi’ Ma
n lay in frozen stillness. Dani remarked at the impressive results of the embalming process. He looked like he was taking a nap, lying beneath a red lamp in a clear protective case with only his shoulders and face visible to the crowd that flowed around him like white waters around a peninsula. Ironically, all of this pomp and circumstance is contrary to his final wishes that his body be cremated and ashes simply scattered on hilltops of VietNam.
Outside, we turned in our ticket in to retrieve the bag of our cameras that had miraculously moved from one side of the mausoleum to the other. We paid the foreigner’s fee before we walked through the lands of HCM’s former homes, the palace grounds, and into more tourist-trap space. HCM was modest in his living, well respected for his dedication to the peo
ple and the nation over his own desires. He led by example instead of taking advantage of the resources he might have made available to himself. He believed in the simple life, and his home well reflected that. It was a stilt home, not large. He rarely used the grand palace that had been home to previous heads of the country (above left). Instead, he lived in a garden area that still contained fruit trees and the cars and furniture of his home life.
We were going to venture into the HCM Museum, but it was closed for the VietNam siesta (many offices, banks, shops, and industries close from 12:30 PM to perhaps 2:00 PM or so). We decided we had done enough of this tourist thing and decided to find lunch before walking to our next tourist thing. As we walked past the gates just outside of the HCM complex, we noted the loud hum of gathered peoples and wondered what was on the other side of the wall. Our curiosity was rewarded, but we were also to 
encounter one of our worst fears in venturing into this country ... cooked pooch. The Bia HaNoi chain of restaurants was the same that we found the night before for our water buffalo and goat dishes, so we went ahead into the crowded beer garden. We ordered the noodles and beef with a side of garlicy spinach … and we did NOT order the deep-fried dog that was being carved up on the counter 
a few tables away. It appeared that the guys seated next to us did order up the delicacy, however, so we got a look at the meat to make sure that we never accidentally found pooch on our plate during the remainder of our time in this country.
As we walked the estimated half-mile South through town to reach the Temple of Literature, dedicated to Confucius and his approach to learning, Martha stopped at a small stand next to an octogenarian couple lounging on separate sides of the side walk to ask about a fix for her recently-dead watch battery. The elderly man jumped up, used a knife to split the silver backing from her Timex, and quickly replaced the battery, but then had trouble gett
ing the backing to stay on; he coaxed us to follow him, and we ended up around the corner at another watch shop where the owner tinkered with the back of the watch and finally put it into a small press to get the backing to stay. The last time Martha had looked into getting a watch fixed was in London and if memory serves, they asked something like 15 pound (about 30 USD) to replace a battery! Here on the corner side in Viet Nam with a man who surely needed the money more, it cost us less than 20,000 dong or 2 USD).
The Temple of Literature contains several different buildings serving as gates to get to the next in a beautiful wall-enclosed complex with trees, lotus ponds, and places to sit and contemplate. The style of the buildings with their dark walls and traditional red-tiled roofs with pointed corners contrasted with the white of the walls and the entryway gate. Statues within altars to great teachers or emperors who had furthered the development
of education in the country were heralded throughout, with information in both Vietnamese and English, so we could learn a thing or two along the way, as well. A series of large tablets atop turtles were lined up in one courtyard to honor all of the doctorates in mandarin who had achieved that high status in their knowledge and skill. And, of course, there were a few shop fronts throughout in case one wanted to buy a souvenir.
On the long walk back towards Darling Backpacker’s we passed the large statue of Lenin in a grand park where children played soccer. We passed over train tracks, through the clothes-making district where many people were hard at work behind sewing machines and decorative motobike seat covers were displayed every
where, making the alleyways particularly colorful. Closer to ‘home,’ we needed a cool boost, so stopped at an air conditioned café for milk shakes of papaya and coffee flavors. Not cool enough, we took cold showers back in the hotel room and stretched out to relax for a while. Dani checked email and the blog to find that 
the Dutch Ladies from HoiAn were in town and had written an address for their hotel! We made note of it and headed out for the evening in hopes of running into them in the big capital city and also finding some food.
Martha enjoyed a doner kebab for 12,000 dong, which she had been eyeing up since they noticed the small stand along Bia Hoi Corner the day before; Dani had finished lunch leftovers in the room while Martha was resting. We peeked into one of the main pub districts recommended by the Lonely Planet to find it considerably changed since their last edition (ie, some of the bars recommended do not exist anymore), but we were 
supposed to walk that way regardless because, as fate would have it, the hotel of the Dutch Ladies was RIGHT IN FRONT OF US! As we entered, the gentleman offered us the key to 'our room' … which happened to be the key to theirs!! We explained that we were actually friends of theirs, may we leave a note? We told them where we were in the city and that we’d meet up the following night, just name a place around 9:00 PM or so over email and we’d find them! What luck!
Reaching the main area around the lake was impressive! The streets were filled with people and more honking motorbikes and cars than we’d seen here before ... and balloons! It was the night before the big VietNam Day festival, and the people were revving up for a party. Motos whizzed by, and crossing the street seemed even more treacherous than usual, but we did it several times as we walked around the lake, wandering through 
the kids area where they shot off lighted whirly doos into the sky to chase them down or get their parents’ help to remove them from trees. On the waterfront itself, it was wonderful to see couples snuggling along the waterside, looking at the moon. Tomorrow is indeed a festival day! (Or is it like this every Saturday night?)
We cut through an alley of bars and … sitting outside of one were two of the three Duck Ladies (known as the ‘Duck Ladies’ because the Vietnamese have a hard time saying ‘Dutch’)!! YAY!! We found them. Without a word, we sat down with Marjan and Saskia, and they started for a moment before seeing who it was joining them! We were welcomed, as we expected, and learned that Manon had taken down with a bit o
f food poisoning from the day’s meals. Sad not to be with her, as well, we still closed down the bar together, enjoying our usual teeming laughter and setting up when we might meet again the next night after our HaLong Bay Tour to enjoy the festival as a fivesome. When we returned to the guest house, the doors were still open, thankfully, and we scooted off to bed for our early rise to HaLong Bay.
Sunday, September 2, ‘VietNam Day,’ we awoke to our last full day in the city and our chance to see one of the ‘you’ve not seen VietNam unless you have seen this wonderment’ stops in the country: HaLong Bay. The tour was set to pick us up at 8:00 AM, and we were up and out and downstairs by 7:30 AM to enjoy our co
ffee and baguette/jam breakfast. Miss Khanh picked us up around 8:10 AM and walked us to the bus around the corner (that answered Dani’s wondering how the bus was going to make it down the narrow alley that even motorcycles have a hard time traversing). The minibus trucked around to other hotels until the bus was full and was out of the city by 8:20 AM.
Miss K shared with us details such that there are 4 million people in HaNoi, and perhaps as many as three million motorcycles! She was a wonderful guide, giving full and detailed descriptions, and taking every opportunity, when not performing her official speeches, to give further explanations on Vietnamese life and culture. For example, Clementine the Chinese Horse is actually a unicorn t
hat looks like a lion; the other important animals in temples are: the dragon for power and nobility, the tortoise for long life as well as heaven and earth, the phoenix for virtue and grace, and the unicorn for intelligence and goodness. The dragon and the phoenix together can represent marital bliss, the dragon symbolizing the man, the phoenix the woman. 
We stopped for a coffee break at a handicapped childrens' embroidery shop. Oh, how we wished we could buy something of the beautiful and intricate work performed by the folks employed here. Back on the bus, we continued along our journey, passing many towns with new construction, streets lined with tall thin homes or squat little shops. As the hours wore on, limestone cliffs finally began to jut out from the rice fields! This is what we wanted to see!!! 
Into the harbor town, we waited in line for quite a while before loading onto the boat at 12:11 PM. The harbor was jam-packed with old-style junk boats waiting for their human cargo to go out into the calm, calm bay. Miss K explained that not only would foreign tourists be out today, but also many Vietnamese, as they were celebrating the weekend before all
the kids went back to school, just as our friends were back home in America! In the year 2000, there were only 35 of these boats for tourists. Now, there are more than 400 of them, many of them large enough for overnight sleeping quarters to be included in multi-day tours of the bay. 
Out into the bay, the mighty junk vessel moved smoothly over the water. Some folks stood outside on the deck while others remained inside the main compartment with tables. Beer and other beverages were available for a price as the journey continued. Martha and Dani spent most of their time outside snapping photos of the passing landscape and mountains. Between glorious jutting limestone mountains, we stopped at a floating village fish market where 35 kilo King Fish swam in circles along with salmon, 
crabs, prawns, and many more. We walked along the planks surrounding the contained fishes, and supposedly the day's lunch was picked out while we were there. Back on the boat, we journeyed to a docking place and were tied to someone’s floating home. The boat stayed still for lunch, which we shared at a table with two Aussie couples. The meal was plentiful, more than we six could eat, and comprised rice, veggie soup, fish, squid with veggies, Chinese spinach, spring rolls, and pork. All of the Vietnamese passengers were taken to a cave, supposedly f
rom a James Bond film, by little boats, but we were not taken. It was confusing, especially since we thought we were supposed to go to two caves during the trip. Boooooo. Instead, we continued chatting with the Aussies about their work at home and the vacation styles of their homeland, sipping beverages in the afternoon sun, and staring at the gorgeous black, grey, and green tones of the surrounding mountains protruding miraculously from the water. So many of them, so grand and imposing. 
Back out on the water, we first toured around the bay a bit to see some of the famous rock faces: fighting chickens islands and human head island. Finally, we reached our final destination, a large cave up above us. Our boat joined about 20 others docked for this attraction, and we climbed climbed climbed up the steps to the cave entrance.
Thien Cung Cave is grand, about 25 meters tall and 35 meters wide; its walls were mostly made of dead stalactites and stalagmites, meaning that there was very little moisture still in the cave to form new structures. The cave was lit with multicolored lights that gave it an eerie but beautiful quality. Miss K tried to tell us stories about the cave, but we had to keep m
oving as larger groups with microphone-laden guides invaded our space and made hearing her virtually impossible. We did learn that the cave was very recently discovered, about 1993, by a fisherman looking for a place to sleep during a storm. Miss K wondered at how many other caves may lay hidden among the thousand-plus islands in HaLong Bay. We climbed back down the steps to the boat and headed back to shore. A
long the way, a man looked over Martha's shoulder at the photos she had been taking, exhibiting to us once again how our own culture is so limited in it personal space. Martha was quite comfortable sharing, however, and leaned in the direction of the gentleman so he could see more easily. She did resist his request to switch hats with her, though.
When we finally docked and got back onto shore, we made a quick stop to check out the virility-inducing bin of Vietnamese wine … for men only … that is made from snakes, scorpions, geckos, and even blackbirds, all crammed into a single, large vessel and fermented. One of the Aussies commented that it was ‘strong stuff.’ We didn’t ask him why he tried it.
By this time, it was getting late. Martha said, ‘It’s 4:00 PM now, and it took us four hours just to drive here, so we certainly won’t be back in HaNoi by 9:00 PM meeting time with the girls.” Fear and sadness threatened to set in. However, we needn’t have worried, as ‘Darth Vador the Lunatic Driver’ got us home right on time! He seemed to have an actual case of road rage as he zoome
d forward and threatened the safety of smaller vehicles with his display of dangerous maneuvering.
blessedly calmed down in his driving style so that the rest of us felt much safer. Don’t get us wrong, the driver was still going unreasonably fast, but at least he didn’t stop again in a fit of road rage to force the car behind us to have to wait for him to start again, as had happened earlier in the trip! 
Miraculously, we made it safely back to the outskirts of HaNoi by 7:40 PM, safely. The Aussies were mighty put out since the agreement had been to take us each back to our hotels. It was fine for us; the fan fair that had collected would never have allowed the minibus back into the Old Quarter where we ‘lived’ but the Aussies lived downtown in a quieter part around the lake and surely could have been brought home. We were happy, though, because we were close to where the festival action was, and where we were to meet the Duck Ladies, and with time to grab a bite to eat! 
Although we had wanted to drop our day-bags off back at the hotel, we decided with time as it was we would be okay just o carry them for the night. Looking for a place to eat where we could watch the crowd gathered at the Northern-most point of the lake, we went with Aussies’ recommendation of Legends Bar, which offered a perfect view over the stage performances going on below from our window seat! Yay!! Dinner and a show! We had a perfect vantage point to view about ten different acrobatic performances like one would see in the center ring of a Barnum and Bailey big top! What great entertainment during dinner. 
Dani ordered the sausage and sauerkraut; Martha ordered roasted chicken—served with the head—and a wonderful green salad. During dinner, Martha witnessed a row as a young Western man with a woman’s purse was speaking loudly with a Vietnamese woman in a black skirt and white shirt. The body language showed distress between the two of them from the start, but eventually, Martha’s suspicions were confirmed as the woman was saying, “But I am pregnant and for my baby,” and the man yelled, “You can tell it to the police.” They were quickly escorted out of the main door of the restaurant and not seen again. 
Back out into the crowd, Dani felt a slight tug on her backpack and quickly pulled it to the front to find that the zipper had been undone!! The guy behind her stared into the sky with a ‘not me’ face. She put her finger in his face and yelled “Thief!”; without looking at her, he changed direction and headed into the crowd—with empty hands. (If it had been Martha’s bag, that guy would have been flattened.) In the meantime, Martha felt tugging at her shorts’ pockets, and moved her hands to cover all openings as our duo made it as quickly as possible out of the mass of people and pickpockets. We had only been in the street two minutes!! 
Once out of the huge crowd, Dani looked into her bag and saw that the water bottle was still the first thing on top, and ran her hand through to find that her camera was still deep inside. We realized just how fortunate (well looked after) we are (Thanks, Guarding Angels from Inge!!). So many ‘horrible travel’ stories are from people who knew better, but had let their guard down for just one minute. In the times when we have been careless or not well prepared, things have turned out okay for us, and many times even better than we could have thought. We are indeed blessed and thankful. .JPG)
And speaking of … who, almost immediately ... did we run into? Marjan, who was giving a begging woman on the street a little something! We were welcomed with hugs, and were quickly taken to Manon and Saskia. Manon had one hand behind her back as she told us they had a present for us!! Wah La! She wipped out a beautiful Mickey and Minny Mouse balloon with the astonishingly silly phrase: “Christmas Happy to You!” We loved it! We ‘Ducked’ around the corner away from the madness to find a pub where we could hear each other, where we closed it down before finding another that stayed open after hours. What a grand time of getting to know each other better. Our conversations in the few nights of spending time and sharind of each other had grown from simple talks of our jobs, family, and dogs back home to more meaningful talks of our dreams, aspirations, and triumphs. 
At our second pub of the night, the ‘Pinky Moon’ (you’d have to ask Manon for a proper description of how that is said in Vietnamese, but it’s something like ‘Pinkymoo’), we ended up in conversation with a couple from France and their friend from Marrakesh, Morrocco, (living in France) on the balcony. As the conversation got boisterous, we were asked to please be very quiet because it was late, the doors had been closed below, and the police might be about, and we were ushered inside away from the street. Martha ended up talking with the French girl and Moroccan gentleman, while French guy ended up over 
with the Duck Ladies and Dani. The larger group had fun discussions on international swear words—Dani learned that while most English obscenities are sexual in nature, the Dutch have more hex based swearing such as, ‘Go get cholera’ or ‘Go get typhoid’. The French are just nasty with such nonsensical putdowns as ‘Go get sodomized by your mother.’ Martha and the other two were deep in heated political discussions, but while she was sad not to spend her time with our beautiful MMS Duck Ladies, she was glad to have introduced the Fre
nch girl to a global American and enjoy the company of the two she spoke with during the night. As the night ended and we finally walked back home, we noticed that many bars had soft sounds of a crowd inside, but gates and metal door fronts were closed and locked. ‘No party going on here, officer.’ Our sleep was filled with dreams of laughter. In love and light,
Martha and Dani
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