Martha & Dani Go International.Blog (GB.NL.ES.DE.TH.KH.VN.LA.HR.BA.Montenegro.GI.MA.PT.IE.USA)

What's That You Say? A New Post Today?

2010-02-01T17:28:00.003-04:00

Hello Family and Friends,

It's true. We're back with a new installment ... and we're partying in Berlin. For a taste of history, and some of the world's best pastries, check this out:

September 24 to 26: Berlin Days

Thanks for stopping by!

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

We Return to Europe!

2009-02-19T12:53:00.005-04:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Ah, glorious progress. Our wanderers finally return to Europe and enter the last two months of the journey. We return to our friend Markus' home town of Dusseldorf, where we spend two nights reactimating to the comforts of Western civilization, and the euro-to-dollar ratio is at a new high in history, about $1.47 to 1 Euro.

September 20 to 21, 2007--Bangkok, Thailand,
to Dusseldorf, Germany

September 22 to 23--We Arrive in Berlin, Germany

At this time in 2008, into the third month after our return, Dani and Martha had just started new jobs in downtown Philadelphia. Today in 2009, we are still blessedly employed with challenging and interesting worklives. Our community grows in our neat little town. Love abounds as we watch our friends morph into parents, our families grow and mature, our life together enrich in our partnership.

Many blessings to you all, and thanks for reading! Look for additional postings linked to this page in the coming days.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

Back in Blog Action for 2009!

2009-02-09T18:32:00.006-04:00

Another two new ones (2.18.09):
Back Towards Bangkok for Time With Cindy Stew ...
and the Return of Kevin!
and
Last Days in Bangkok

NEXT: Return to Europe and Family/Friend Time!

Dear Family and Friends,

Friday, February 6, 2009, Martha underwent arthroscopic surgery on her right ankle to remove some fracture chips and take care of some other damage to the joint. The damage is not all recent, but is from injuries over the years since as early as 2000; the most recent third-degree sprain included fractures and has had her down since September 27, 2008. So, she's laid up at home with some time on her hands, allowing her to post the photos that are so time consuming in getting these blog postings ups. In other words, we're back in action for continuing this project!!

Here's the newest post, from September 13 and 14, 2007, when Martha and Dani enjoyed Udon Thani, Thailand. Martha's Dad was stationed nearby this retro-70s city during the VietNam War (or, the American War, depending on which side of the pond you're from):
Udon Thani--Martha's Dad's Old Stomping Grounds

So excited to continue sharing our adventure with you all. Please look for updates with additional postings in the coming weeks as "Gimpy" heals.

In love and light,

Martha (Gimpy) and Dani

Culture Shock in September

2008-09-21T19:46:00.004-03:00

Hi Folks,

Check out last year's wealth of experience
(or at least a few kewl photos):
September 11-12, 2007, Luang Prabang, Laos,
and Our Return to Thailand

And now, message from our sponsors (that is, our author at home alone writing short essays) ...

CULTURE SHOCK
A year ago today was the day after we arrived back in Germany from three months in SE Asia. We awoke from under the softest, fluffiest, whitest duvets on earth, our skin chill from an open window in a cool, Fall-smelling room a mile outside of downtown Dusseldorf in the NW country corner approaching the Netherlands.

The hot water from the shower didn't splash onto the floor but into an actual porcelain tub. Multiple-hundred threaded towels and bathrobes snuggled our bodies. A continental breakfast stuffingly offered us an unending feast of eggs, pastries, muesli with chocolate chips, fruit, coffee refills, meats, juice. The linings of our stomachs stretched from the pressure of our first big Western-style meal. Everything else was, well, comfortable.

The disquiet stemmed from the contrast in creature comforts, and how exceedingly nice these aspects of our lives, so taken for granted, were the dog biscuits of our biggest organ--our ski--covering the us body with sensory perception, our ability to feel every brush of a pantleg, every drop that falls, every hand it holds.

The loudness was gone. Shockingly quiet sans beeping and Bangkok bustle. We enjoyed our morning meal marveling, chatting about our thoughts, our next steps, how to make it to Munich before Oktoberfest, how long we could explore Berlin, and where to stay when we got there. We noted the time travel we'd experienced from full-on summer to the color-turning trees of Fall, so similar to home. How'd it get so chilly?

Now, back at home a year later, the days get shorter, the work weeks longer, the time warp of mental exhaustion sets in more often. My longing gets stronger as I am firmly planted upon American soil for an indescribably terminal indeterminable amount of time. Stagnation notwithstanding, my amazement of the contrasts in cultures, societal expectations, histories, seasons, these continue. Memory feeds thoughts of far away, wishing I was there, but knowing here is where I need to be momentarily.

Fall arrives tonight, offering the Solstice I've been craving. I shall work to release my longing and be happy for the stability and comfort of my home, my people, my Love, most powerful of all.

When I snuggle into my bed tonight, I will think of how blessed I am to have all that I have in this life. And to think about what I might be able to do to shock the culture out of someone less fortunate.

Thank you, the end.

PS--I wish I was on the other side of the world right now!

In love and light,

Martha & Dani

A Year Ago Today ...

2008-07-13T11:38:00.003-03:00

A Year Ago Today, my dad turned 60 years old. Happy Birthday, Daddy! So glad to get to spend this year with you.

A Year Ago Today, we met Cindy Stew for the first time, joining her for a pampered tea party at the Oriental Hotel along the Chao Praya in Bangkok. We miss and love you, Cindy. How goes the continuing quest for self-awareness?

A Year Ago Tomorrow, we lost our roomate/friend Sheila at the Buddhist temple when a monk obsconded with her at Wat Mahathat in Bangkok. Dani, Cindy, and I attended a session on Understanding Buddhism. And we enjoyed the infamous Khao San street, ripe with tourists, touts, and trouble.

Today, I am happy to have the memories that I am blessed to carry. Happy Sunday!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DADDY! LOVE TO CINDY AND SHEILA!

M&D

Glorious Summer Time, 2008

2008-07-12T19:44:00.005-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Hello to you all! We got another post up, from the second week in September 2007, when we were still in Laos:
Festival! Luang Prabang, Laos

All is well here in New Jersey. Martha has gone full-time at her job now. Dani is learning about her new HR Director. Our garden is flourishing. We've painted the bathroom, planted a pear tree, grape vines, and blackberries among our echinacea, dahlia, impatiens, snapdragons, peppers, tomatoes, basil, zucchini, cucumbers, beans, and lettuce. Willow seems to have somewhat adjusted to our return and daily routine on taking the train to and from Philly.

We took our first post-trip vacation over the 4th of July, and it was amazing. We headed out to Michigan for the Rothbury Festival, which I must say was wonderfully orchestrated, visually astounding, fun, original, an excellent collection of music on gorgeous grounds. We hope to go again sometime!

Hope your summers are going just as well. God bless you all!

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

New List of Posts and Videos!

2008-05-10T17:16:00.011-03:00

HAPPY MOTHERS' DAY TO ALL THE MOMMIES AND MOMMIES-TO-BE IN OUR LIVES! There are quite a lot of you these days!! We love you all dearly ...

OK, my peeps, we're finally working on the blog again. This page will host new posts of blog entries and videos!

AS PROMISED: A new blog entry, posted April 30, 2008 ... September 6-7, 2008 (The Road to Vang Vieng, Laos)

AND: NEW Viva La Musica, Havana Club, Leon, Spain
Ancient Ruins of Sukothai, Thailand,
Monsoon Rains, Bangkok, Thailand,
Peek at HaLong Bay, VietNam,
Houseboats of HaLong Bay, VietNam,
Traffic Video, Bia Corner in HaNoi, VietNam,
Mouse Circus in Stuttgart, Germany,
Street Performer, Sevilla, Spain, and
The Popular Music of Sarajevo (Bosnia and Herzegovina)

Love to all,

Martha and Dani

Return to the Working World Eats Up Blogging Time

2008-04-08T15:42:00.009-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

We know, it has been a while since we've worked on the blog. Sorry for the delay in posting. Dani and Martha are back in the working world once again, taking the train to and fro downtown Philadelphia each day. It eats up a lot of time to commute so far, but it's a joy to hold true to our desire to either commute a short distance or use public transportation. Thank goodness we live in an area where it's possible to hold onto that hope and make it a reality. We love the train!

We are thrilled to be back making money and paying our mortgage, but it does sap the time away from blogging. Bummer. We will work hard to continue to post to the blog in the coming weeks! Please look for an update soon as we continue to finish our Asian adventure from last Summer, return to Europe, and even touch the tippy top of Africa.

Many blessings and love,

Martha and Dani

January 3, 2007: HAPPY BELATED HOLIDAYS!

2008-01-03T16:19:00.000-04:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Happy Holidays to you all! Hope your time with family was wonderful. We are so blessed to have been able to share Christmas with our families and New Year's Eve with our friends in the area. We hope your 2008 is bountiful and healthy!

In the meantime, we continue with the ... eh hem ... three months of postings that we still need to publish. Here are the first of many to come in the next few months.

August 30 to 31 (HaNoi, VietNam: Puppets and Ethnology)
September 1 to 2 (Ho Chi Min, HaLong Bay, and VietNam Day With the Duck Ladies)
September 3 to 5 (Ba-Bye VietNam, Hello Laos!)

And a couple of housekeeping notes: Anyone who still has Martha's 732 phone number, please delete it as soon as you can from your files. She no longer has that phone or number. Also, if we have not yet called any of you since we've gotten home, we apologize and will do so as soon as we can. This 'post travel depression' that we heard would take effect has been a bit of a bear. (Time to hit the road again? I know, I know, time to get jobs again instead!)

Hope to see and talk with you all very soon!

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

November 28: Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig

2007-11-28T11:20:00.000-04:00

Dear Family and Friends,

We are back in New Jersey! Our flight from London Heathrow yesterday was flawless in its Newark, NJ, arrival. We are now with Martha's parents and Capt'n Harry at her growing-up house and should return to our abode tomorrow. Willow, the wee doggie, recognized us immediately and has been following us around some ever since.

What an amazing experience, and how lucky we have been to make this journey without being robbed or injured. So thankful also to have made it home with the computer and all of our other items. Even the three boxes that we mailed home over the last six and a half months have made it! Just in time for Christmas!

Happy Holidays to everyone. We will be finishing up the postings of our adventures in the months to come!

Much love and thankfulness,

Martha and Dani

November 20 ... One Week Remains

2007-11-20T10:42:00.000-04:00

AND, we have a new post:
August 28 to 29 (Tailors, My Son,
and Getting to Hanoi)

Dear Family and Friends,

So sorry for the delay in postings. Our last couple of months have been a blur of incredible visits with friends and family across many nations. We have also encountered an overwhelming lack of Internet access as our sleep holes have become, shall we say, 'cheap as all get-out'! (Especially those kindly supplied by said friends, family, and even random strangers ... THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!)

We are currently in Portugal, relaxing at a lovely four-star hotel called Solar de Mos (yes, off-season prices ROCK!). Capt'n Harry is right, we think, Portugal is one of the most wonderful places on earth; the countryside and people have made an impression on us in a very short time. We are so sad to have just a few days here, but will look forward to an extended holiday to really explore the country. And soon we will be in Country #15, Ireland, with our friend, Lyris, for the final days of the adventure.

Anyway, ONE WEEK LEFT!! Our emotions are mixed between: the immense joy of our return home to much-missed loved ones and the impending gloom of coming off of this incredible experience ... and time away from each other once again as work responsibilities take hold of us. Stupid responsibilities. :)

We will get back to posting our stories upon our return home, as we have managed to keep up with some of the extensive writing and have otherwise been taking notes each day along the way. So, look for the 'adventure to continue' as we share our experiences further in the coming months by posting the rest of our journey. Look also for several postings summing up some of our observations, including photos comparing different landscapes, work habits, peoples' faces, cuisines, portion sizes, and more ...

You may have noticed that the format of our Blog Title has changed to an abbreviated system. Blogger has kept us from posting the full names of all of the nations we have visited with a limited word count. Therefore, we get to show off our nerdy tendencies with the amazing International Two-Letter Abbreviation Codes used in the Internet universe (except for Montenegro, which does not have a country code yet, poor little new Montenegro). You can find out where we've been by going to this Web site: http://www.web-l.com/country-codes/. Tee hee. Work for YOU!

OK, time to go explore the coastline of Lagos, Portugal. The rain has finally let up and the sun is shining brightly. Now, where are my shades and sunscreen ...

Love,

Martha and Dani

September 24 to 26—Berlin Day Tour, Laundry, and A View of the Past

2007-10-31T17:06:00.054-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Monday, September 24, we joined the 1:00 PM Free New Berliner Walking Tour with Jessica as our guide. The tour is pretty awesome in that if you have no money. You can still enjoy learning about the city, but if you do have some cash, then you pay the guide whatever you are able to when the tour is over.

Most of the guides have theatrical backgrounds and are particularly talented in storytelling, or at least Jessica certainly was animated and spun a good yarn. After we met up with this former-Swede, who lived in Manhattan for six years as a dancer and speaks excellent English, she told us about her personal history as we made our way by metro from our meeting point outside of a Dunkin Donuts to the central meeting area near the Brandenburg Gate.

At the Brandenburg Gate, all of the tourists split up into several groups according to 1-2-3-4 number and language spoken, and we luckily were "stuck with" Jessica. She began with a long story about the larger history of Germany, how Berlin got its name from the local water source, the dawning of Prussia, and the eventual collection of provinces into the Germany of today. Of course, main characters in the tale were Otto von Bismark the ‘Iron Chancellor,’ Kaiser Wilhelm I, Napoleon, and Adolph Hitler with his Nazi cronies. The gate itself was stunning, with the Quadriga statue at the top, which had been stolen by Napoleon because he thought she was so wonderful. After the statue's return from Napoleon's clutches, she faced East, but after the reunification of Germany, she was turned to the West, where her head now faces the French Embassy below in a little ‘nah nee nah nee poo poo’ to Napoleon’s people! (Or so the story goes …)

From the other side of the gate, Jessica told us of the burning of the Reichstaggebaude (the re-creation of the original government building could be seen from where we stood) that led to Hitler’s dictatorial power over the country. We did not go in with the tour group, but Martha and Dani decided to return in the next few days to get a view of the city from the tower at the top of this building.

A few paces away, we approached the very-recently completed memorial to the Jews who died during World War II, better known as the Holocaust Memorial. The 2,711 pillars create a powerful and moving sculpture to walk through. We all walked through and met on the other side, sharing our interpretations of the work and how it made us feel. We’ll let you decide for yourself how it impacts you when you get a chance to visit.

Next, we headed to the side of East Germany where Hitler had his bunker and stood on the ground above where he and his wife (he married Eva the night before) committed suicide. Nothing left to mark the spot except a little sign that shows the layout of the bunker that was created below the city streets. Jessica informed us that Hitler and Eva had told their cronies to burn their bodies immediately after they were dead so that they would not end up like the body of Mussolini in Italy, which was paraded through the streets, spit upon and otherwise used as a celebratory body at the hands of the people.

Surrounding the scene were tall apartment buildings with red roofs, known in Eastern Germany as luxury apartments, homes for the Nazi elite, and tools for the Stasi police force. To get information from people, they might use an apartment in the complex as bait, saying, “Well, if you rat on your friends, then maybe we can find you a spot in the apartments!” among many lies told. Jessica told us that about one in every six people in Berlin were informing the Stasi, creating an intense atmosphere of mistrust among neighbors and families. Scary times, indeed.

Very little still stands of the Berlin Wall that separated East and West Berlin, but we went to the longest stretch of the remains to see its crumbling testament to a torn country. We had never visualized how the wall actually separated the city, and were surprised to learn that the Berlin Wall actually surrounded/encircled the central ‘West’ side of the city, the one that belonged to the capitalist Allies, because over the course of many years (up until 1961 when the wall was built), people were leaving East Berlin in troves to live in the West and to obtain a passport and/or flight to the rest of the West. So many intellectuals and professionals left that eventually the communists running East Berlin had to put a stop to the emigration and put up the wall overnight, separating families for thirty years, including parents who left their young son with a babysitter while they went out for a drink. There were actually two sections of walling, and the dangerous part was the zone between them that was heavily guarded by dogs and people with instructions to shoot on sight anyone who tried to cross without proper papers. Some people attempted to cross over and were killed. Some people made it, including two men who dressed up like a cow and mooed their way across to West Berlin!

The path that shows where the wall once stood is marked throughout the city by bricks in the streetways and sidewalks. A plaque marks that it stood from 1961 to 1989. We never did go too close to Checkpoint Charlie, but we could see it from where we stopped across the street. Many of the streets were lined with wallboard testimonials to attempts at escape and to the history of the region. Jessica stopped to show us how the Berlin Wall actually looked surrounding the center of the city.

A couple of hours into the tour, we had our lunch stop, where we split a ham and cheese sandwich since we had dined on coffee and bagels at the Dunkin Donuts before we joined the tour. We sat with Jessica and another guide who was from Sweden, listening to them talk about their jobs and Jessica’s impending trip to South Africa where she will be working with a South African choreographer to put together a show with dance students that mixes European with African dance styles. Sounds like an amazing task and opportunity!

Walking on, we headed in the direction of Museum Island, stopping at a square between two churches that looked exactly alike. The location, with its twin churches and grand theater house, is called the Gengarmanmarkt. The churches are known as the German and French Cathedrals (Deutscher and Französischer Dom, respectively) The statues adorning the cathedrals look older than the actual structures. They are from the original churches, built in the very early 18th century, that were damaged or destroyed during World War II, but were removed during war for safe keeping and put back up on refurbished buildings.

We walked down the once-classy and formidable Unter den Linden avenue, lined with lime (linden) trees and on to the Bebelplatz. Here, we encountered a memorial to the burning of 25,000 books in May 1933 that marked the early destructive days of the Nazi regime, when they entered the library with a list of books that had to be destroyed. Jessica told us of a German named Heinrich Heine who, about 100 years before, had made the statement “They that start by burning books will end by burning men” in a creepy, prophetic way. The memorial to the book burning is below a glass plate in the middle of the square. Along the walls below are bookshelves, empty bookshelves; from some angles you can see the shelves, from others, and especially looking straight down into the plate glass, you can only see yourself.

We stopped at a gorgeous memorial by Kathe Kollwitz called “Mother With Her Dead Son” at the Neue Wache building near the university. The ceiling is open so that, as the seasons change, the sculpture is a continuous reminder that there is no season for war; the mourning mother and child is supposedly particularly stunning as the snow falls.

Onward to Museum Island, where a series of sculptures and people littered Lust Park in front of the mighty Pergamonmuseum. Along the side of the Berlin Dom, near its cross that has still not been replaced atop the church tower since its Nazi removal, Jessica told us the lively story of the fall of the Berlin Wall. In short, the announcement of the opening of the Wall was supposed to be a trick to get the people off the government’s back as they shouted in the streets for the boundary to disappear, a step that would then be craftily overwhelmed in beurocratic nonsense for ages, the leadership in Eastern Berlin not about to lose their tight control over the people. However, the announcement was made by a particularly alcohol-blurred individual who had not read the announcement or been informed of the background of the plan. When he read the notice to the press, they asked when it was effective, and he offered the only date on the paper: November 9, 1989. Thrilled, the people cluttered the edges of the Wall, asking when they would be let through. The confused soldiers said that they could pass with the appropriate paperwork. Well, two women in the crowd happened to have proper paperwork as they had scheduled to go through that day … and as the gates opened for their proper departure, the people flooded through and began the process of knocking that darn wall over for good!! All because some drunken official had not been informed of the rascally plan to keep the people from each other indeterminably!

The tour ended, and we saw Jessica practice a humbling experience similar to what we might imagine from a monk as she stood before the clapping crowd and waited to see if any of us would offer her tips to thank her for the tour. We each took our turns, and Jessica clasped each of our hands in thanks with warmth. What a wonderful person and talented tour guide. We can only imagine the emotion she is able to pump into her dancing and would adore the chance to see her work someday. We headed out from the group to the Berlin Dom for a pit stop and got a peek inside the basement and the dom shop before taking the bus through the park and back to the hotel to freshen up. Refreshed, we stopped at a second hand store, where Martha bought two pairs of pants that fit her better (and were not worn out from too much walking) for 13 Euro total! YAY! Clothes that fit! We dropped stuff off at the hotel once again before heading out for the night, stopping quickly at a doner place for a meal and then joining the Pub Crawl that the New Berlin Tours group offered (taking 1 Euro off of the 12 Euro fee if you had been on a tour with them earlier in the day), seeing four different pubs, joining a half dozen familiar faces from the crowd of our group, and experiencing an awesome night seeing the Berlin nightlife. It was a very very late night, however!

Tuesday, September 25, was by far our least productive day. Martha did laundry, at 5:30 PM, carrying two stuffed garbage bags the several blocks to the laundry mat and taking quite a while to figure out the process of which machines were lighted and usable versus those out of order (which were many). She managed to waste a few Euro on machines that said they worked but did not actually before figuring out the system. Of course, the comedy of errors with finding change for a 20 Euro note among the stores surrounding the laundry mat was a different issue, as none of the restaurants wanted to offer even a couple of 10 Euro notes as change, the Internet shop did not have enough to break a 20 Euro note even with Martha buying a Coca Cola Light. Having already opened the bottle, though, she had to go next door to the pharmacist to buy some toothpaste and then return for her sodie pop. Whew. We had dinner at a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican food place around the corner. Dani got a big juicy hamburger, and Martha insanely ordered a veggie burrito, but we ended up switching meals since Martha’s burrito was filled with the fungus variety of veggies. We finally worked on the blog for a bit before heading to bed.

Wednesday, September 26, Dani was refreshed and up by 7:00 AM. Martha, having worked so very hard on the laundry the day before, slept in until 9:00 AM. We finished packing and were out of the hotel by 11:00 AM, checking out on time and heading to our next night’s lodging. With our packs and bags, we walked far across the neighborhood for about 40-minutes until we arrived at Haus Konstanzer, where we got settled in the spacious, pretty Room 10. The room had tall ceilings, an attached porch with table and chairs, big comfy lounge chairs in the room, and a spacious double bed.

We dropped off our things, but did not stay to enjoy the relaxing atmosphere as we headed out for the day in the city. Walking toward the U-Bahn station, we stopped in a grocery store and decide that’s where we’d find breakfast. Martha took pictures of the entire aisle of chocolate, then subsequent entire aisle of beer. Wine filled another entire wall. Martha picked a Curry Salad, a multigrain roll, and a pretzel ball; Dani picked a banana-flavored milk and some Pfefferneuse cookies, Lindt brand Chocolate with Chili, and a caramel chocolate. Who will eat better this morning?

We looked on the map and saw that there was a park just a little ways away, which turned out to be within a Little Garden Community founded in 1929. These communities comprised small homes surrounded by small garden plots, havens for gardening in the big city at a time when people needed to grow their own produce locally to survive. In a different plaza nearby, we stopped at a park bench and enjoyed our breakfast. Next, we needed a printer to get our train tickets to Stuttgart printed out before the next day’s journey to meet up with Markus and Steffi to the West. We went to Dunkin Donuts to try their Internet services, but no printers. The cheap Internet café aspect of Dunkin is grand in its scale, taking up an entire floor above the donut and coffee shop, and is probably what keeps the franchise alive in this country of amazing pastry shops.

Nearby, we stopped at the Went into the bombed-out Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, which houses a museum to the war, and the two sections of active church next door, each made of stain glass walls with red and yellow tones. We spent some time at the museum, learning the amazing history of the church and its destruction during WWII. In the new church, we sat for a moment in prayer, asking that the wars end, that there is an end to the destruction and mayhem.

From the zoo station, we took the train up to Potsdamer Platz, deciding that at 2:45 PM, it was finally time for a pastry, so we split a Streuseltaler, which tasted similar to the “cookie-dough pastry” that we enjoyed for breakfast three months ago, and which has kept us dreaming of finding it again! To less sweet activities, we walked through the Topography of Terror exhibit behind the remains of the Berlin Wall in what would have been the ‘death-strip’ between the walls, and the area that housed the Stasi and Gestapo headquarters. The exhibit explained the landscape of the neighborhood and the changes it had gone through in the previous three-hundred years—from upper class wealthy homes of the elite to the government buildings, and finally to the buildings housed by Hitler and his men. We looked upon the faces of the upper echelon of power during that time of cruelty and inhumane humanity.

The afternoon wore on and we wanted to make sure that we got to visit the Memorial to the Jewish Dead again, and to the Reichstaggebaude (Parliament Building), but the line stretched down the street. We made the tough decision to return the next day because it was close to 5:00 PM and we wanted to head over to the Statsoper Unter den Linden (the old state opera house) to check out tickets to the night’s “free entry” show that Dani had read about online and seen advertised—or so she thought—among the coming events.
The doors were open, which we took as a good sign, but the lady behind the counter said there was no performance tonight. What? We went back outside to look at the sign again. Unfortunately, the word Dani hadn’t found in the dictionary the day before but that mysteriously was there today meant “lecture”! Oooo, we almost went to the most boring Opera ever! There would have been no music, just some guy sitting on the stage speaking German! Hah!

OK, then, we decided it was time for dinner. Up the street and to the right, we picked a random place called Oase (Oasis), which turned out to be a Tex-Mex bar, but Martha ordered pasta with chicken, jalapenos, and an amazing sauce, while Dani ordered spinach tortellini after the jealousy of Martha’s spinach dish the other night. Great, filling, slowly savored in our new slowed life pace. We have been working on eating slowly and enjoying every bite.

We walked back through the artistic part of town, looking in on the not-so-secret society of artists who live in Tacheles, a bombed-out building covered in graffiti with random studios and exhibitions throughout. The backyard is an artists’ playground, with large sculpted letters as benches, an old VW van that could serve as a bar, an actual bar, color and steel in different displays of visual delight. On the top floor, we find a snoozing artist surrounded by surrealist-style canvases, large enough to cover the dense space of the room, and Martha buys one of his prints of an eyeball in peril.

Back towards Museum Island, we get a great view of the full moon over Bode Museum with the TV Tower, no longer carrying its cross in the nightlight. We walk until we’re tired before taking the underground back to our neighborhood and to our nice quiet room outside of the main stretch of town.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

September 22 to 23—Dusseldorf to Berlin, A Capital Train Journey

2007-10-31T17:02:00.039-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Saturday, September 22, we headed out for the capital city of Berlin, Germany! We sprang out of bed to enjoy the yummy buffet breakfast and then to repack. As a backpacker, even a short stay can require 30 minutes of repacking (if you’re Dani, adds Martha). Soon, we were within an hour of check-out, well-fed, and about ready to go … except for one, very exciting, very important errand.

On last night’s walk home, Martha saw a pair of shoes in a store window that looked just about perfect for her: a mixture of brown and black to go with every outfit, sneaker-types without being the All-American white running shoe, and reasonably priced at less than 20 euro! When we arrived at the shoe store, already bustling with customers pre-noontime, we looked up and down the aisles for the pair that was in the window. Finally, we pulled aside one of the women who worked in the store and asked her if she spoke English. A look of terror came upon her face, and she said, “a little.” We smiled and let her know we were patient, were sorry for not knowing her language, and that we’d try to make this easy for her. Aftar all, we’re good at pointing!

Sadness, the store no longer had the shoes that Martha pointed to in the window, so she found another pair that would work just as well, pointing to the size of her feet in European sizing (38, btw), and picking out a second pair to try on just in case. Both fit well, but one was more stylish and one was more comfortable than the other; Martha had to decide, and chose the lovely-looking leather sneaker type that seemed to better fit to her foot.

We ran back to the hotel, threw away her old brown Timberlands that had served her well for a couple of years. They were completely worn through on the soles, and it was time to let them go. Onward! We asked the helpful front desk man how to get to the central station—it was just a quick ten minute walk up and to the right. Out we went, packs on, energized, and happy with new German shoes that made Martha feels like a new woman! We don’t get as many looks here as we did in Asia for carrying large packs, so it was easy to make our way along ‘undetected.’ Certainly, nobody has laughed at us for walking farther distances with the heavy packs, which was a routine occurrence in Asia, especially from folks in Bangkok.

We stopped once to look at the map to confirm we were headed in the right direction as Dani understood it. Yup, she’s right! At the ticket counter, we stood in line to talk with the woman behind the desk, who spoke some English to facilitate our budding German skills. Did we want to take the 11:55 AM train to Berlin? No, I don’t think we will make that in less than 10 minutes. So, we decided on the 12:55 PM ride, giving us one hour and five minutes to wait.

To the platform, we found that the 11:55 AM train was still there—we could have made it! The extra time meant Dani could buy Coca Cola Light (known to folks in the states as Diet Coke), an apple, and a yogurt drink before returning to the platform where Martha was sitting with the bags. Figuring out the systems of other countries is always a fun adventure: First, we ended up in the plush, comfy seats of First Class and had to move with our packs and bags when the ticket-checking lady came through. Then, we ended up in seats that had been reserved by other people. We had not splurged on paying three extra euro to make seat reservations, but how did we know where to sit? We moved seats once again and asked the ticket man who came through next if we could sit in those seats. “No.”

As we were finally figuring out that the luggage rack contained not only the seat number, but some had town names (eg, Hamburg–Berlin) ... so that might mean the seat was reserved between the towns of Hamburg and Berlin, a local stepped in to ensure we would be fine. In great English, he asked first if he could give us some advice. “Yes, please!”

“Above each seat is an electronic sign. If it has the name of a town to another destination, then it’s reserved. If it’s blank, then you can sit there without a reservation.” Thank you, Mister Guy! We confidently chose two seats without names on them, and settled in. The max speed of the train was 251 KM/HR as it whizzed through the open countryside. We arrived in Berlin at 3:15 PM. Stepping off the train, I was instantly taken with a couple in a loving embrace, kissing out in the open! What a shock to be back to the openly-affectionate lifestyle of the Europeans after having been in hands-holding only Asia!

With directions to our night’s pension in hand, we made our way downtown on the underground, surrounded upon embarking by a group of friends drinking and loudly enjoying their Saturday afternoon break. As we disembarked from the metro and made our way towards the street, we encountered a couple walking towards the metro station below; at first, Martha thought that the woman’s trouble breathing was an asthma attack, so she offered her inhaler. The woman’s gentleman motioned and spoke in German, but we didn’t know how to help. Finally, someone else who understood stepped in and grabbed the lady’s arm, helping her to the floor before her epileptic seizure began. We felt so helpless to be unable to help, and vowed to work on our German skills in the coming weeks.

A bit shaken, we took some wrong turns on our way to the hotel, Pension Dafna, where we checked into Room #8, which was so spacious after the cramped rooms of hotels in Asia. We had four nights booked at this hotel (until 26 Sept, when they were full and we would need to find another place to stay), so got settled with our things, ‘made ourselves at home,’ and opening the window to a little balcony overlooking the street below. The room had a television, desk for our computer work, two beds, a bathroom with shower, wardrobe, and tall ceilings.

Ready to explore a bit of the city, we headed to a tapas place recommended in the LP along the Savignyplatz. It had a neat set-up, where you could go inside to grab soup and salad, and after the restaurant became more crowded, they would send someone around with a platter full of the tapas options and you could pick whatever looked good to you! Not quite able to wait long enough for the crowd to gather, we went ahead and got soup and salad, and then ordered from the menu after the kind patron explained our options to us. Veggie filled pastry with pumpkin and a cream sauce, veggie curry with potato, and a potato pancake topped with fish. We enjoyed the experience and a little conversation with a couple of older guys from Florida who were spending time with a friend in town for a week on their holiday. Our walk back to the pension gave us a nice taste of this residential section of Berlin, with its tall six-story buildings and pretty parks spaces.

Sunday, September 23, we enjoyed our first full day in Berlin by taking a long stroll in ‘our neighborhood.’ We found where the laundromat was located, stopped in for a couple of pastries covered with berries, and marveled at the tall buildings as we walked and walked. We love the feeling of being in Germany, so clean and orderly. Even when there is no traffic, they wait for the little green walking man to tell them it’s okay to cross. Down for a while in one direction, back around towards home, weaving in and out of the streets.

As the afternoon wore on, we found ourselves at the Rathaus (town hall), at a Sunday market. The square stretched from the front around the side of the hall and was packed with vendors selling second hand clothes, books, records, knick knacks, dishes, and treasures to somebody. Dani bought a French-language book for Maddie, her best friend’s little daughter. Across from the Rathaus, we stopped for a doner lunch as we continued to struggle with the inflated prices here in comparison to food in Asia by avoiding even five-plus euro meals at other eateries.

As our feet tired, we walked back to the hotel for a siesta and some much-needed Internet time before heading out to dinner at another of the guidebook-recommended places. Along the way, we passed and took photos of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, which was bombed during the war and has been left in its broken state as a reminder to the people. We spent a few minutes with one of the Berlin Bears (similar to the artist-painted buffaloes in Buffalo, NY, and cows in New York City) that stood outside of the Mensa building, pretending to be brilliant for a bit. And, of course we got lost, finally finding the restaurant pretty late in the evening, close to 10:00 PM. The waiter was lovely, encouraging us to speak German; dinner was just as wonderful. Martha enjoyed a tortellini with spinach sauce to die for and Dani enjoyed gobbled up her pasta made of spinach with a fried cheese topping and a little salad on the side. We have found the German custom of tipping difficult: you get the bill, give the waiter your money and tell them right then what change you want back with them keeping the rest. Doing math that quickly is just not always easy, especially since we are never sure the percentage of tip that is appropriate! It was rather late by the time we were done eating outside, enjoying the cool air still and people watching. We had originally intended to go to a club recommended by the nice folks from the restaurant the night before, but by the time we were done with dinner, we decided to simply enjoy the half-hour walk home.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

September 20 to 21—Goodbye, Hot and Humid SE Asia, Hello European Comfort!

2007-09-29T06:31:00.026-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Thursday, September 20, we took in the final glimpses of Thailand as we made our way to the airport and the airplane back to Europe and the comforts of Germany. Up at 5:30 AM, we caught a cab for 250 baht plus a 20 baht tip (less than the 300 baht it would have cost us to take the bus), arriving at the airport by 7:40 AM. (Of course our last taste of Bangkok cabbies was just a fun as our first—as we negotiated with him, telling him we could pay 250 baht for the cab or just wait for the bus, he said, “OK, 300 baht. OK, 150 baht each. OK, 200 baht each.” We moved on from that cabbie to one who might think us capable of doing simple math!)

Once we had checked into the Lufthansa terminal (and asked to make sure that we did not again have seat that did not recline like on our 11 hour journey to Thailand), Dani napped while Martha went to spend the last of the baht on a croissant that she was able to share, and a soda that she forgot that should could not bring past security to share with Dani. As we sat, eating our croissant, we talked about our weight loss during these three months and the challenges ahead in keeping it off, especially in the meat, potato, and beer-rich land of Germany. Our general plan of attack was the share a main meal and split a salad when dining out … if we could find a salad, that is.

On the 11 hour flight back to Europe, we encountered another episode that caused distress and sleeplessness: “Tall” people behind us who requested that we not recline AT ALL!! Well, we have friends who are taller than six foot five inches, so we know how difficult it can be for tall people when flying, so we respected their wishes, except for a few hours of sleep when Martha reclined because she otherwise would have had no rest whatsoever. Upon arrival, our angst with the couple increased, however, as we saw them from across the room with their luggage … and they were not tall at all! (Well, everyone is tall to us at our five foot three inches, but STILL!)

When we landed, we had some confusion as to how to get to the Dusseldorf town center from the airport, finally figuring out the railway system after some time. Dani had ot head out to find change since the automated machine for tickets said that it did not give change, but then did anyway! We found a map from the information desk (LP does not supply one for Dusseldorf), and the train took us quickly downtown.

We did not have habitation for the night, figuring that with it being a weeknight, there would be little problem. WRONG! Martha left Dani with the luggage while she walked among the quaint downtown lodging options, only to be turned away time and again because of a convention in town. The kind receptionist at the Opera Hotel made some calls for us, however, and we were soon downtown, though paying an arm and a leg for the night at 118 euro! Glad to have somewhere to settle, though, we walked the couple of kilometers beyond the city center to Room #409 of Minotel Antares, exhausted by the time we arrived.

But, HOO DOGGIES! What comfort there is in the ‘civilized world’! The beds were so luxurious, all soft and comfortable. Chocolates on the pillows and duvet covers on the blankets— so warm and comfortable. Luxury! And what was this weather that chilled the skin as we walked down the block for something to eat at a local doner kebab place? Fall? We enjoyed our meat and salad on a pita as locals watched a game of foosball (soccer) on the tellie. Didn’t seem like anyone’s favorite team was playing, but it really doesn’t matter, they get sucked in anyway.

Before bed, we stopped at the Internet café to look into our options to get to Berlin in the morning, opting instead to book the same hotel for the next night so we could see more of Dusseldorf, slow down for a day, and have time to find a decent hotel price in Berlin. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the non-convention price for the hotel was half what we were paying for this night at 59 euro!

Back at the room for a hot, hot shower (they give you soap and shampoo and everything here) before bed at 11:30 PM (that surely felt like 4:30 AM)!

Friday, September 21, Dani was awake at 5:30 AM (her body telling her it was 10:30 AM with the five-hour time shift from Thailand), staring at the ceiling and drafting proposals to big corporations and the UN for solving the world’s energy crisis. Her plan? Let’s use the excess sunlight in Africa to build solar power stations and provide power to all of Europe!! MOO WA HA HA HA!! While waiting for dawn and Martha to eventually awaken, she saw a tree outside with red leaves (omigosh, is it autumn?), typed out notes from the last few days, and filled in her Excel sheet to begin planning for the rest of trip.

Martha had trouble staying asleep while Dani typed because the rest of the room was so quiet. In fact, the whole town was quiet, especially in comparison with Khao San Street in Bangkok. Even with the window open, we could not hear the cars on the streets outside. Early, we were up, showered, and headed down to the hotel’s breakfast buffet among the many suits who were finishing up their conference and about to head home. The breakfast was wonderful, ample, and made us wonder if we would in fact be able to maintain our weight loss: chocolate in the cereal, sausage that wasn’t a hot dog, and as much coffee as we could stomach!

With our free day in ‘D-Town,’ we walked down towards the Rheine River and up into the Old Town (Altstadt) section to explore the old buildings and see the statues and people jaunting about. We stopped at a church and walked through the “Carl Market” to see the open-air wares being sold, taken again with the differences between the markets here versus those in Asia—especially the simple things like refrigeration, gloves, and wares off of the ground. After a couple of hours wandering about in the chilly air, taking in the people and the small town atmosphere, we sat to warm up with one of the local Alt-style beers. We also stopped in at the tourist information office to learn what we could about the train options to Berlin. No go, as the tourist information office had only details about adventures in Dusseldorf, but recommended that we go underground to the train information station to see what they knew.

So we did, but went through the wrong entrance and never did find the train information stop at that time. Jet lag was setting in, so we headed back to the hotel for an afternoon nap in our cushiony beds. The Internet that was supposed to be available at the hotel was ‘still not working’ so Dani took a bath while Martha clicked away on blog stories and watched CNN, hearing the distressing news that the dollar had fallen to an all-time low against the euro and that the political situation in Myanmar was heating up considerably.

Rested, we returned to the Internet café across the street to reserve a hotel for our next-day arrival in Berlin, but did not purchase train tickets quite yet, hoping that the price might be better if purchased in person instead of online and unsure of exactly when we would get going to catch the train in the morning. We walked back through Altstadt to a restaurant recommended in the guidebook, called Llerige, that served tapas and its own local brew. We found it packed with locals on the inside and even spilling into the square across the street, where additional tables and kegs had been set up. At ‘just’ 3 to 4.50 euro per plate (which still felt like a whole lot to pay after our one-dollar meals in Asia!), we figured the portions would be small for these appetizers, but boy were we wrong! The German tapas-style dinner was huge! We managed to gulp down all of the large blood-sausage, bacon on bread with butter, potato salad, pickle, boiled eggs served with mustard and vinegar, and chopped pork salad. Hmm, meat and potatoes for dinner. Maybe we’ll get vegetables tomorrow? Overstuffed, we enjoyed a long, slow evening stroll back through the town to our hotel.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

September 17 to 19—Last Days in Bangkok

2007-09-29T06:08:00.091-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Monday, September 17, we worked on finishing up our list of ‘want to dos’ in Bangkok. We were up and out by about 11:00 AM and downstairs to enjoy a vegetable (read: tomato and onion) and cheese grilled sandwich and yogurt for Martha, and a peanut butter grilled sandwich and yogurt for Dani. Today, we head first to Wat Arun—the Temple of Dawn—a grand structure across the Chao Praya River from the main part of the city. We crossed through Wat Samphraya when a gentleman encouraged us to walk through to find a faster path to the expressway stop we desired. The shortcut turned out to be a bust since the far gate was closed, but we enjoyed the detour, welcoming the few extra steps.

Eventually, we arrived at the Phra Sumen Fort and its surrounding park , farbelow the Rama XIII Bridge. We took the Chao Praya Express for 13 baht each down from station Tha Banglampu to Tha Tien, and then across the river to Wat Arun for another 3 baht each on the across-river ferry at Tha Tien.

Wat Arun is an interesting mix of the heighted grandeur of Angkor (including a Khmer-style spire) and the adornments found at the Grand Palace in Bangkok, with mosaic flowers made from porcelain tiles brought over from China. Some of the guardians holding up the structure had yellow eyes, others had green eyes, and all had faces showing the burden of centuries of holding up the towers. We paid 50 baht each to enter the grounds and climbed all the way up as high as we were allowed to go on the central stupa. From that height, we could see much of the city, including the Golden Mount that had given us our last great cityscape view. Climbing the steep stairs was a challenge, but at least here (as opposed to parts of Angkor) the railings are sturdy and well secured!

Next plan, to head to the Thieves Market to check out the offerings there. We walked all over the area shown on the map where we should have found the marketplace. Martha’s stomach was still not feeling up to snuff and her energies were pretty low, so we stopped to get her one of those energy drinks (Carabao!) and some cool Thai tea. Finally, as we sat pouring over the map for quite some time, our aimed-but-aimless wandering ended as we got some help from two kind young women who asked if they could help. One of them ran into the bank to try to help determine just where to send us! They pointed us in the right direction, and we found what turned out to be a very small, disappointing group of stands with little of interest except some pairs of sunglasses (Martha’s shades from the beginning of the trip have finally succumbed to scratches that cloud her vision), but even they were ‘too stylish’ (read: too big on the face) to suit her taste.

From the Thieves Market area, we walked North back towards the guest house. By the time we made it up to the Giant Swing, it was raining pretty hard, and we were without an umbrella today. So we hit an Internet café for a while to see how things were going with Cindy’s plans and to check in with the family. It was cheap, about 20 baht for the hour we were there, and we were tempted to stay longer, but the rain had let up a bit so we headed back out to find dinner. We ended up at a great little restaurant called Jamaika … open air, nice clean seating, menu items and prices displayed on the walls as well as on the menu. We ordered the papaya salad (much more edible than in Luang Prabang) to share, as well as tofu pad thai and a green salad that turned out to be a nice cold-slaw type dish with the dressing on the side. The presentation of the meal was what really hit us, however. The plates were beautiful, the tomato around the salad was made into a cute little heart shape, and the attention to detail was generally appreciated. Plus, the food tasted great! Wet and tired from walking all day, we headed back to bed to continue the ‘last of Bangkok’ list in the morning.

Tuesday, September 18, Dani headed downstairs at the guest house to ask for help in making a call to Wat Mahatat. One item still on our list was attending a class on Buddhist meditation that was supposed to happen daily in English at the wat. Dani was glad that she asked for help because it took the lady at the desk three times to get the phone to work right and complete the call—and then she was asked to call back after 1:00 PM because the monks were busy eating!

We enjoyed the morning, not leaving the hotel until about 1:00 PM. We walked through familiar neighborhoods from our guest house down to Wat Mahatat, peeking in the shop windows and working our way through the obstacle courses of street vendors. We went directly at Wat Mahatat to the room where we had attended the Buddhist learning class with Cindy many Saturdays prior, asking the monks there about the meditation class. Before we could consider not having eaten anything all day, we found ourselves in the back room where the meditation class was beginning. We joined a couple from the Netherlands who were in town just for the day and received a booklet and instruction from a 60-something-year-old monk who spoke good English. He explained first the basic principle of Buddhist meditation: clearing of the mind so that one can remain present and recognize every motion, every distraction, every emotion. Not an easy task, and one that people strive to achieve their entire lives. For the afternoon, however, we would be putting our mind and body to the challenge of getting to know one another better.

Downstairs in an open area away from the nuns practicing meditative walking above, the four of us listened as this kind monk explained the basics of both sitting and walking meditation. For walking meditation, he began with slow, repetitive speech to show us how the mind should cover each step of the body’s actions: First with the right foot, recognition of actions go in rounds of threes, first with moving the feet, “Rising, moving, falling. Rising, moving, falling. Rising moving, falling.” Across the room. Then, stop, “Standing, standing, standing.” Again in the process of three movements: “Turning, turning, turning.” Once again, across the room, “Rising, moving, falling. Rising moving, falling. Rising moving falling.” Step after thoughful step. After creating paths back and forth across the room, it was time to settle down for sitting meditation, at which time we went through the process of Standing, Moving, Sitting, Moving the Arms, and Breathing, “Inhaling, Exhaling. Inhaling, Exhaling.” If the mind becomes distracted, notice what is happening with simple naming of the moment, “Barking, barking, barking. Worry, worry, worry. Pain, pain, pain.” An act of naming, acknowledging, and then letting go and returning to the focus on breathing in and out. We sat in silence for about a half an hour, then continued practicing our walking meditation, sat again, and then headed out into the day with a renewed sense of calm.

Wat Traimit was next on our list, and we walked right past the first tuk-tuk driver who wanted to charge us 100 baht for the ride just across town. The next tuk-tuk driver was very nice, charging us a much more reasonable 50 baht. As we walked the grounds of Wat Traimit, which houses a giant gold-gilded Buddha that was discovered under a plaster covering to the surprise of the monks transporting it! We were saddened to find that the main temple was closed. As we headed out to our next stop in dismay, however, a kind tuk-tuk driver hoping to stir up some business after we were done told us where the entrance to the Buddha’s house was located, and we entered with just enough time to enjoy the giant, seated image before the doors closed for the day! We thanked the tuk-tuk driver and lamented not being able to give him some business, but headed instead a bit North to the metro (we had not yet ridden the metro, and like to take every form of public transport available in the city just for the fun of it!) over to Lumpini Park area. We had wanted to see what the Huay Thai boxing experience was like, since neither of us have ever been to a boxing match and the prices listed in our guide book made it sound like a deal for the experience. However, when we arrived we found that the price for decent seats was more than double what we expected (1,600 baht [50 USD] for ringside, 1,000 baht [30 USD] for nosebleeds among the betting locals)! Too rich for our blood, and not so keen on seeing others’ blood spilled when we could enjoy a nice meal and a walk instead, we headed out in search of the last item on the list: the Erawan Shrine, where locals who have good fortune occasionally will throw an impromptu fiesta in thanksgiving. We never did find the elusive Erawan Shrine, but found two others instead, taking pictures and enjoying the city as we went.

We walked back to Little Arabia to enjoy the food (sharing kibbei, parsley salad, yellow lentils with garlic naan) and the vibrant atmosphere. It was much less busy than during our time with Sheila; the city prices were down, the streets less crowded with tourists, and the vibe much more ‘localized’ than in July. Our first attempt to get a taxi wanted to charge us 250 baht to go to Khao San, saying he would not get fare back. We got out of the taxi when he would not put on the meter for us. Our next attempt was more fruitful, and it cost us about 80 baht to get across town (actually, 63 baht plus ‘generous’ tip). We especially thanked the gentleman for his honesty. While Martha enjoyed time on the Internet checking in with folks, and sadly learning that Cindy would not make it to dinner the following night since her school workload (it was her first week back at teaching, after all!) would keep her close to home. Sad, but certainly understandable!! We let her know that we had something to leave for her, and she recommended that her friend, Gee, who owned the River Guest Houses, would be the one to contact. So, we said that it would be waiting for her with her friend! In the meantime, Dani went down the street on Khao San for a 600 baht wax job, meeting up with Martha soon thereafter to head back to sleep for the night.

Wednesday, September 19, marked our last full day in Bangkok and the end of our time exploring the mainland countries of SE Asia. We had planned to change rooms for the day to stay at a B&B around the corner that had WiFi. Why not spend our last day blogging and getting a good rest before our long flight? Alas, our lack of planning put a dent in our semi-plans when we found the B&B booked for the night! The kind ladies at reception did let us once again buy some tea and coffee and spend some time using their WiFi access, however, and we soon found a place called ‘At Home Guest House’ near Khao San at a decent price that touted WiFi, as well. Martha went off to call and make sure that they had room, and to drop off the package for Cindy Stew with friend Gee. YAY! They had a room for us! We packed up our packs and walked the kilometer or so to the new location, getting settled on the fourth floor of the 500 baht-for-the-night place before lunch.

On our journey to find lunch, we encountered a student protest near the Victory Monument. While taking photos and gawking as the impending marchers gathered, two young female students approached us, asking—in wonderfully spoken English—whether we would like to make a donation by buying one of their pins. Martha decided that the purchase for 20 baht would be worth an understanding of what was going on, and asked first why the students were gathering. The next day’s paper showed her explanation to ring true: The students were from the university and were fighting against privatization of the school system The measure would substantially increase the cost of education for the people. We noticed that one of the pins, with Thai writing, showed the toppling of the Saddam Hussein statue in Baghdad, which went along with her verbal commentary about the Imperialist Quality of the Privatization. We did not buy that one since it was seemingly against America.

We did follow the students as they semi-blocked traffic, walking down the street in black headbands and red armbands, chanting their distaste with the potential change in their education system. Photographers from local papers ran after them, snapping photos of their banners and the front line of the march. We continued along with them around the corner, eventually turning off a main road as the march stalled to head back to our room to get some work done.

Along the way, we stopped at a hole in wall for lunch of a fish-ball salad for Martha and fish-ball soup for Dani. It was a rainy walk back to the hotel, where Martha blogged for several hours in front of the television showing the Transformers movie. Meanwhile, Dani tanned on the roof and enjoyed taking photos of a kitty while speaking with the Nepali-born neighbor of the guest house (he ran the clothes shop next door and watched the television between clients). In the evening, we put a final call in to Cindy Stew to say Goodbye and see how her first week of school was treating her. We’ll miss that wonderful lady, and certainly appreciate all of her kindness and the chance to pass this family friend down to another generation! Until next time, Cindy!!

Our last Bangkok dinner was at Hemlock, a restaurant recommended by LP for good reason. The food—chicken miang kham for both of us, one last curry for Martha, and bok choy with fish and garlic for Dani—was delightful, enjoyed among an eclectic mix of wall art and clientele. Back on Khao San for our final night in town, we used the last of our baht (except our fare to the airport, of course) on a bucket of whiskey, coke, and red bull on the street with other travelers. Our main conversation was held with a Scott and two German chefs, a threesome that had met on the road doing a similar loop from Thailand up through Laos, to VietNam, Cambodia, and back to Thailand. At the end of their journey, the Germans (who were from Munich and recommended a particular tent for us at Oktoberfest) were headed off to cook in Malaysia. The Scott, who had a wicked sense of humor and kept us laughing for hours, was headed back home. We were having a riotous laughing time of it when we were joined by a mouth-slurring older man from Finland who was not neither pleasant nor demure, spouting off unpleasantries and foul comments about one or the other of the women in the group. We were all thankful when he headed along his way, and we could return to the jovial discussions at hand.

Thank goodness THOSE guys have been few and far between!

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

September 15 to 16—Mahasat Klong Tour and Massages With Cindy Stew

2007-09-29T06:08:00.054-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Saturday, September 15, Martha’s belly did not take the night’s meal too well, and she ended up having a tough time getting out of bed. By the time she was ready, about 9:30 AM, Dani and Cindy had been up chatting for quite a while. We settled in for breakfast of bananas, two types of dragon fruit (red and white), rambutan, grainy breads, and yogurt, before heading out the door to enjoy the local ‘Ago Tour’ along Mahasawat Canal by boat. Cindy informed us that the tour had been set up by the locals as a means to make some money and show off their commerce. We paid a total of 510 baht for the three of us (about 6 USD each), and waited a few moments at a table where food could be provided. A young woman approached us and asked if we would like to take a survey, revealing that they were from the environmental school at Mahidon University (where Cindy teaches pre-college English) and were interested in responses on the eco-friendly klong tour. Of course, we had not yet taken the tour, but agreed to complete their survey upon our return!

Cindy was smart in not telling us the details of the tour, as each of the four stops was a wonderful surprise!! We were particularly thrilled with the first stop … at a local orchid plantation!! We had been sad not to make it to see the orchids in Udon Thani, but it was meant to be as we continued our trend of doing each touristy task just once on the trip. But, to get to see rows and rows and rows of gorgeous purple orchids was just incredible. Some smelled pretty, even like grape Koolaid; others were brilliant red, yellow, and orange colors. The proprietress of the plantation rattled off details of her work in Thai, completely lost to Martha and Dani, and Cindy admitted to catching about 10 percent of the details. We were content to walk the grounds, taking photos and marveling at the use of coconut as planter bases for the young orchids to flourish. It was difficult to leave, but we were soon back on the little boat with Lek, our beautiful guide. We were not empty-handed, however, as Cindy purchased a couple of orchids and a ‘lipstick’ plant that reminded her of one she’d owned during her life in America.

Our second stop was a fruit orchard, where we sat to enjoy some of the local fruit and fare—grapefruit/orange slices, the best bananas we’ve had in three months, a coconut sweet, and some puffed rice. The real treat was the ride on the tractor through the orchard, however, as the driver had to swing his body to the far left and to the far right around curves, physically dismounting from the tractor to make the turns. We passed jackfruit trees and the hanging grapefruit/orange trees, and eventually came to a rice field that was about ready to harvest. Martha and Dani noted that we had been in SE Asia for just about an entire rice crop’s growth cycle, and were so pleased to get to see the rice up-close at its final stages of growth, with long grain-like tops where we could see the rice about ready to be plucked from the ground. Neat! Back towards the entrance, we purchased some of the flavored banana chips produced at the orchard and headed back to the boat with Lek once again.

During our fruit orchard stop, Cindy had received a phone call from the local Wat Pho Massage School where her daughter had taken a course on foot and leg massage. Cindy had gotten a rather bad massage that had thrown her back off, and she was waiting for word on when her appointment for some help in healing the wound might take place. When they called to see if she could come in that afternoon, she asked if perhaps the appointment could be for three instead of one, and we all looked forward to a 4:00 PM herbal Thai massage!!!

Our third stop was at a rice cake factory, which included a board with photos of the process and some English descriptions. The proprietor shows us the tools used to create and cook the rice cakes, including utensils and the heater cauldron for oil. We were able to take recently-cooked rice cakes, put some sauce on top, and add the final toppings of either sesame seeds or a BBQ pork-based thread that looked a bit like hair and tasted delightful. Cindy picked up a bottle of fruit juice with intentions of dinnertime enjoyment (but completely forgot about it by the time we got to the house--hope Cindy got to enjoy it). One of the greatest joys of living in SE Asia is the abundance of fruit and fruit products, among other great joys in the arts, the history, the culture.

The fourth and final stop was at a lotus blossom farm, where we disembarked from the boat past the usual landing that Cindy remembered from her previous two times on this tour. We walked past little "rat doodie" pepper plants and onto a platform in the middle of a reservoir where baby lotus flowers were growing. When Cindy was there last, the water was filled with full grown plants and flowers, ready for harvest; she enjoyed getting to see the different stages of growth at the farm. We enjoyed the serenity, sitting among the plants and enjoying the water supplied at this (as it had been at every) stop before getting back onto the boat one final time.

The klong itself is a beautiful means of travel. The motor was the only noise along the way, and we got to peek into people’s lives along the canal, seeing them washing themselves or clothes, getting smiles from everyone that we passed, and witnessing their commercial tasks, including a bin of frogs and one woman collecting reeds from the klong’s vegetation. The bridge near the baot's landing is one of Cindy’s favorites, as it is so steep going up that bicyclists and motorbikes have difficulty in the ascent and greatly enjoy the decent. The water was clean, the ambiance was delightful, and we had a great three hours enjoying the tour.

Back at the dock, we fulfilled our obligation to the students as three of them sat across from us and asked questions about the eco-tour and what we might like to see them do to improve it. Cindy’s main feedback was a request for more English-language instruction on what goes on at the orchid and fruit orchards, in particular, pointing out the picture-board at the rice-cake factory as an example of a helpful resource. In general, though, our reviews of the klong tour were glowing, and we had a great time speaking with the students.

Onward, we dropped Cindy’s orchids off at her house before landing at the lavish Wat Pho Massage School, where we donned fisherman’s pants and little sleeveless shirts and giggled at the pampering goodness of it all. Cindy insisted on treating us again for this second extravagant pampering-us outing with her, and we appreciated her kindness, looking forward to the time when she will let us return the favor.

Orchid foot bath started us out, washing and scrubbing away from our sandaled feet months of road dirt from the trails of SE Asia. The lovely ladies washed our feet and lower legs before ushering us back to the massage room where Cindy’s masseur was already hard at work to help correct her injured back. Martha took the bed to her right side, and Dani took her left, each laying down for an hour of quiet bliss. This massage differed so drastically from the ‘original’ Wat Pho massage in that the room contained only the three of us, separated by screens so that we were in a peaceful and calm environment, surrounded by the smell of herbs and blissful Asian instrumental music.

Relaxed, so happy to be together, we enjoyed one more stop in our evening, walking through the local Salaya marketplace to pick up an assortment of dining stuffs to eat back at Cindy’s—pumpkin soup, three types of satay, a green salad, veggie-packed jellies with a spicy sauce, gyoza, and two types of drinks, including a detox tea to complete our day of goodness to our bodies. We sat down together to enjoy this last meal, talking about the coming days’ events and whether Dani and Martha would end up South for a few days on a Thai island or if they would end up in Bangkok before heading back to Europe. Just a few more days in this part of the world …

Cindy drove us the half hour to her friend’s guest house, the Riverline Guest House near the Rama VIII Bridge in the Northern downtown of Bangkok. She expertly navigated the narrow alleyways, pointing out a restaurant that she knew well, and telling us of her early days living in the city, where she stayed at the accommodations of her now-friend, Gee. The original location of Cindy’s living was the Riverside Guest House, which is the parent guest house to the new one where we would be staying, just around the corner. We were happy to spend the time in surroundings familiar to Cindy and give her friend some business.

No sooner had we opened the gate to enter the secure, walled guest house and check in, than who should be standing RIGHT THERE!?!? Now, realize, folks, we had not set foot in Bangkok but about five minutes at this point … and … so oddly … and unexpectedly … who should be standing right there!?!? You’ll never guess. OK, you might easily, but still. (Is this suspenseful enough for you?)

Our friend, Kevin, from Cambodia and Saigon to Nha Trang, VietNam, was RIGHT THERE IN THE DOORWAY with his lovely girlfriend, Pim!!!!

Everybody now: “It’s a small world, after all. Bum bum bum. It’s a small world, after all. Bum bum bum …”. What a pleasant surprise! We were headed in different directions after a very warm (and confusing-to-Cindy) reunion, but knew we would run into each other again in the coming days as we were staying in the same place! (Weird.)

We said our ‘see ya laters’ to Cindy, making plans to have dinner together on Wednesday to celebrate our last night in town, and Dani and Martha headed down to the riverside eatery for another quick bite and some ambiance in this hipsters part of Bangkok. A live band played. The chit chat of the locals flooded the air. We were back in Bangkok.

Sunday, September 16, we asked to switch rooms in the Riverline Guest House since Martha’s back was hurting from how hard the bed was in Room #306; upstairs, we found the bed just a wee bit softer in Room #405, and paid the 350 baht for another night. We got settled and headed out to the weekend market of Chatuchak. Dani asked the lady at reception about which bus to take, and we hopped onto Bus #34 around the corner. We were on a mission, to find a coconut lantern.

The ride was pretty long as the market was located uptown, close to the bus station of Moh Chit (where we were formerly lost on Bus #77 months ago). The afternoon was not as hot as it had been in July, and we enjoyed walking around with only a bit of sweat pouring down in the humidity. It was still a nice break from the weather we had been experiencing all summer, and way better than it had been in Bangkok previously.

Chatuchak Market was huge and packed with people out for their Sunday enjoyment. Many locals and tourists cluttered the pedestrian walkways. Some children played their musical instruments along the sides of the walkways in hopes of getting some extra baht from passers-by. Folks with mobile stalls sold hair ties and trinkets, only to pick them up and move along whenever a security official showed up. Eventually, it started raining, but not before we had finished up our shopping for Christmas and crossed most everyone off of our list! GLORIOUS! Among our triumphant purchases were two that we were particularly happy to find—a couple of coconut candle holders! We had been looking all over the continent, up and down market aisle after market aisle, everywhere for one for Cindy Stew’s daughter. Now we could turn them over to Cindy on Wednesday over dinner and surprise her!

We ate lunch of chicken with rice … hold the chicken liver, please … at a local stand in the market. Among the wonderful wares, we found a couple of Buddha at the request of one of our friends (Love the Stephie ...), including one of the medallions that we have discussed in an earlier post. The man we bought them from was playing the stringed instrument common to this region. In negotiating with the musical wheeler dealer, we learned that the elderly gentleman had visited the United States in years past. Behind him in the large market stall were photos of a younger-him in DC in front of the Capital Building and New York City before the Statue of Liberty.

In Vang Vieng, Martha had lost her khrama from Cambodia (so sad), and we were also walking through the aisles on the hunt for one to replace it. We found many scarves of various styles and patterns but none of the colorful gingham designs specific to that part of the world. UNTIL, we rounded one bend only to find an entire box filled with them for 50 baht each! Needless to say, Martha picked up another one, and an extra for good measure (just in case of a second incident of loss).

We took the bus back towards home and stopped in to grab the computer. We took a different path away from the guest house, passing the old Phra Sumen Fort along the way. Dani had understood that there were places along Khao San Road where we could have dinner and use WiFi services. We never did find a place touting wireless and a meal, so we sat down for a nice dinner of hot and sour pork for Martha and stir fried beef with basil, chilis, and vegetables for Dani. In the end, we shared Yahtzee once again, enjoying a learning-for-them experience with two Japanese gentlemen who had just arrived in Bangkok that day for several weeks of holiday.

Love to you all,

Martha and Dani

September 13 to 14—Udon Thani, Thailand: Martha’s Dad’s Old Stomping Grounds

2007-09-29T06:07:00.040-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Thursday, September 13, Martha awoke to Dani’s tippetty tapping on the computer at 10:00 AM. Late-sleeping Martha had hoped to get up much earlier to start their day of finding where her Daddy used to live! But, Dani figured that a little extra sleep wouldn’t hurt, considering how badly Martha felt the day before. We quickly got ready and were out the door, though, stopping at the open-air eatery nearest the King’s Hotel for a nice ‘brunch’ of rice and chicken curry for Martha and rice with beef concoction for Dani.

From there, we walked to the prince’s statue several blocks away and hopped on saang thaew #6. The sang-thaew–bus system in Udon Thani is a great set-up of small trucks with converted truck beds--seats in two rows line the sides of the truck bed along the back; they circle the city in patterns and arrive often, making navigating around this large city space particularly easy. We headed South out of town, where we passed some buildings that looked like they could be army barracks, conjecture based on their repetitive simplicity, and past the US military planes that marked the outside of the old Air Force base. Martha’s Dad had come through the night before, sending a few details about his living space, saying that he had particularly enjoyed a reservoir where he would walk often to see the water buffalo at play and that it was nearby the largest hills in the area, which were actually the largest ammunitions dump in Thailand.

We couldn’t remember for certain if Martha’s Dad’s email had said that his base’s location was 5 KM South of the Air Force base or 5 KM South of town, so we stopped about 4 KM out of town where we saw a body of water and a few hills that might have been the arms deposits that he had mentioned. We passed a school yard where the kids all waved and said ‘Hello’ from the playing fields and classroom windows. While walking through the school grounds to see what we could see, we came across giant old clay jars in the muck. Heading back towards the perceived hills, we found ourselves in a wat area where locals were gathering for an event; one monk filled us in that there had been a car accident and they were preparing for a funeral. We headed off of the grounds to let the mourners have their peace, eventually arriving back at the street.

At the Fort Prachaksinlapakom Hospital, we thought, ‘Well, Fort means Army, right?’ and headed back around the hospital walls to the reservoir behind, imagining that this might be where Martha’s Dad once walked and watched the water buffalo. We did not encounter any water buffalo, but we did have to manage our way around a group of cows out grazing, slowly moving around them in hopes of not being sat upon or worse. (Martha’s uncle was once sat upon by a cow on her mother’s childhood farm, so she is always a bit wary of the beasties.)

As we neared the end of this harrowing journey around frightening, calm-faced cows, the smallest of the cows started walking right towards Martha!! Standing still, she was fine as it turned out the little guy just wanted his head to be rubbed. Martha obliged, even having opportunity to learn that a cow’s tongue is rougher than a cat’s (for those of you who always wondered).

We walked around the reservoir, and took a wrong turn, somehow ending up on the grounds of one of the military bases! We walked all the way through, back towards the road with guards watching us, but no one contesting our presence … until we reached the main entrance, where an MP-type guard ushered us into his room, telling us that photos were not allowed on base and taking down our identification information (albeit, on a newspaper, which did not make us feel too officially overseen). We waited for the hammer to drop, for us to be thrown in the clink for trespassing, for the rifles to be brought out in proper firing-squad fashion, but instead we were simply ushered out the entrance, never to return again.

Dani had trouble not giggling until we were well outside of the fort’s walls. But it seemed that they knew we held no malicious intent. They did not even check Dani’s camera to see if she had taken any photos! Martha left hers in her bag just in case they chose to confiscate Dani’s. Oh, the unfounded paranoia!

We passed the actually Air Force base before catching a saang thaew back up North into town. Martha’s belly was still not feeling very well, so we had a bit of a ‘from home’ break and stopped at KFC in the mall for lunch. Martha recalled that the first time she had ever had one of the KFC chicken Zinger sandwiches (known at home as the spicy chicken sandwich) was in Malaysia with Capt’n Harry years before. So, really, we were having Asian food, right?

Next stop was the train station to check on the time for the ride to Bangkok planned for the next day. The early-morning train left at 6:47 AM, and Dani decided it would be better not to buy our tickets right then, just in case we didn’t get up on time. Then we tried to make it to the Orchid Farm located Northwest of town before 5:00 PM when they would close. Besides being a wonderful place to see the orchids that Thailand is famous for, it was also reportedly right next door to one of the local veteran hangouts. Martha thought it might be an opportunity to learn more about th elives of military personnel in the area. But the saang thaew that would carry us that far across town never appeared, so we ended up just walking back to the hotel, unsure of whether we had seen any of the landscape of Martha's father's youth or had just been chasing our tails for the day.

Martha took a nap as her body continued to fight the bug in her belly. Around 6:00 PM, we headed down to the café that offered Internet the day before, ordering coffee and tea once again and spending a couple of hours online. Luckily, Cindy Stew was also online at the time, so we were able to email with her to firm up plans for the next day, including details of what to tell the cab driver who would bring us to her place outside of Bangkok in Salaya, Thailand!

We dropped off the computer in the room before heading out to find dinner at a local Thai/Chinese restaurant. Dani had the prawn pizza (which was a fried, stuffed pizza), and Martha had egg noodles with pork in a delicious gravy. We got back to the room and to bed pretty early (even though one of the local guys tried to coax us into the dance halls along the street past the restaurant) for our early-morning departure and return to Bangkok!

Friday, September 14, we made it to the train station with plenty of time to catch the 6:47 AM train from Udon Thani to Bangkok! Dani even had time to grab us some water and yogurt drinks, but lamented not having purchased anything to eat as we finally sat in our second-class train seats. Unlike other recent travels, we decided to upgrade for the day to air conditioning, non-crowded conditions, and lots of leg/backpack room for 472 baht [about 15 USD] since we were about to cover almost 600 KM in the day. Within five minutes, our prayers were answered as a kind Thai lady across the aisle offered us some tasty little breads with meats in the middle! SO NICE!

Martha fell asleep almost immediately, as her belly ache and some related bad nights of sleep caught up with her. During her three-hour nap, Dani watched the scenery and read her book, eventually purchasing a little snack of rice, egg, and meat. She ate only half of it, gifting the rest to Martha when she awoke from her nap. The afternoon passed delightfully as we quickly made the trip to Bangkok. The scenery changed from the open lands where cows grazed and people fished to the cluttered homes of the city. We disembarked at Don Muang station, where the police came up to help us almost immediately, then enlisted a gentleman who spoke some more English than they did. After negotiating the price (which turned out to be more than twice what it should have been based on what we confirmed with Cindy! UGH!), and we were soon in a cab towards Mahidon University, where Cindy teaches.

The ride took a bit more than an hour in the rush-hour traffic, but it was so nice to be out in the countryside away from the big city for a night! Cindy was waiting for us at the pre-appointed location where we had the cab pull over, and it was soooo very nice to see her smiling face once again. We loaded up our bags into her little car and arrived in short order to her beautiful row home a block off of the cleanest klong (river canal) that we had seen. Her home is gorgeous, decked out with the reminders of her years as a backpacker, the worldly collection and cleanness making for a comfortable and colorful space. The guest room upstairs contained comfortable beds and air conditioning, and we settled in to make the room smell like backpackers. By this time, we were mighty hungry, and Cindy let us treat her to dinner at her favorite place within walking distance, which overlooked the klong.

From the deck-like dining area outside that overlooked the klong, we could see three or four trains pass by on the horizon line on their way to Malaysia. The rumble of the tracks was the only sound to break the tranquility of our conversation as we caught up with Cindy and told her about our travels in the time since we had last seen each other in July.

And boy did we feast! Cindy chose our menu, and we enjoyed a spicy eggplant salad; a prawn pizza similar to the Chinese-style that Dani had the night before; a plate of spicy, garlicy greens; and fish miang kham, a local favorite of leaves and lettuce that you stuff with pieces of fried fish, peanuts, chilis, thinly sliced lemon grass, onion, chunks of lime, ginger, and dried prawns. Once the leaf is filled, you pop it into your mouth for an extravagant ‘ricochet of flavors,’ and we all closed our eyes as we took our first bite to experience the richocet.

Back at the house, we talked into the night, eventually parting to sleep before our next day together exploring the klong!

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

Making It Easy: List of New Posts From August

2007-09-19T07:25:00.000-03:00

UPDATE: We landed in Croatia 7 Oct and made our way to Sarajevo and our friend, Alisa, on 8 Oct with no problemo! Internet access is minimal, so do not expect more updates until our return to Spain 19 Oct at the earliest. Love to all!

Hello Dears,

I realize that checking the Archives and remembering where you might have left off on your readings of our adventures might be easier said than done, so I will update this 'newest posting' with a list of links to make your lives as easy as possible.

Here are the newest blog updates from early August in Cambodia! Please note that Dani may not have done her final edits on some of these, so typos may disappear eventually.

August 15 to 16 (Leaving Phnom Penh, Cambodia,
Arriving SaiGon, VietNam)
August 17 to 19 (SaiGon and Dalat, VietNam)
August 20 to 21 (Nha Trang, VietNam, Beach Days)
August 22 to 23 (Fun and Scuba in Nha Trang)
August 24 to 25 (Mud Bath and Leaving Nha Trang
for Dalat, VietNam)
August 26 to 27 (Hoi An Moon Festival
and Swimming in the China Sea)

Love!

M&D

P.S. Our hearts go out to those who lost loved ones on the Thailand flight this week; we were blessedly not among the fallen. Miss you all!

September 11 to 12—Luang Prabang, Laos, to UdonThani, Thailand

2007-09-13T09:34:00.042-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Tuesday, September 11, we awoke questioning what the day would bring. Would we be able to leave Luang Prabang today? How far would we make it? After all, the last time Martha had tried to make the trip from Luang Prabang all the way to Vientiane, she and Capt’n Harry had to stop in Vang Vieng because the trip was too long, windy, and uncomfortable by bus to go on.

We’d unpacked few things the night before, so repacking was easy. We paid for the night in USD and got change in both kip and dollars to get us through the day since we’d been unable to get cash from the ATM the day before. We grabbed a tuk-tuk to the bus station, arriving by 7:45 AM—whoa early!

We each bought a baguette with egg, tomato, salad, and cheese for 10,000 kip. As we waited for the 8:30 AM bus to depart, we wanted to take some time to contemplate the sad events of six years before in New York City and DC, but since it was 11 hours earlier and still September 10 in the States, we decided to wait for 9:00 PM at night to be more in-line with the situation at home. Map of Vientiane from the tourist office in hand, Dani went to ask at the counter where we would arrive in Vientiane and about what time so she could figure out if we should try the border crossing into Thailand today or wait until tomorrow. The ‘Express Bus’ left right at 8:30 AM, and we’d be arriving at the bus station out by the airport T2 around 5:00 PM.

We were thrilled to have seats 3 and 4 in the front of the bus (great views for our picture taking extravaganza!), and very few other passengers got on board. The bus took off like a bat out of Hades, speeding through towns, beeping at other drivers and locals lollygagging across the street as if he was from Hanoi. We’ll make it to Vientiane in no time at this rate, we thought, enjoying the view of the villages from a more panoramic perspective. But by 9:15AM, we stopped.

A food stop already? Nope. We are told to get out of the bus and get into the other one waiting for us. Apparently the speed demon tactics had been to catch up with the 8:00 AM VIP Bus (because it had a bathroom on board) so that they could add us to the masses already on board. The nine passengers from our Express Bus managed to find seats on the already-packed VIP Bus. We found two seats together—in the last two seats in the very back row of the bus.

This driver was no less a crazy maniac than on the previous bus, and his a co-pilot wore in a T-shirt that said ‘Psychopathic.’ The bends had become no less strenuous than Martha remembered from before, and certainly being at the back of the bus extenuated the circumstances. What a workout for our core and upper arms.

When we stopped for lunch around 12:30 PM in the town that had been our first stop out of Vang Vieng the other day, we were amazed to be that far along already. Again, we spent the hours staring out the window at the rolling, awe-inspiring mountains. Martha couldn’t sleep with the jostling but showed off her strong stomach by reading in her book while holding on with one hand around the curves. Dani managed a few zzzz out of boredom; she couldn’t see out of the window very well and her book had too fine print to read during the heavy periods of twists and turns. She did manage to get some reading in at the stops along the way, and is finding it fun to finally read stories she’s heard about but never known: Samson and Delilah, David and Goliath, etc.

The VIP bus was scheduled to arrive in Vientiane at 4:30 PM, but we got in a half hour early. We hopped into the saang thaew to the border. Yes, we could go to the bus station for a couple of dollars each and still make the last locals bus to the border for only 0.50 USD, but since Martha hadn’t slept much, Dani made the decision to just pay the extra for a direct ride. One other traveler joined us to head on to Thailand, so the driver lowered his price to take all of us for 10 USD. He dropped off a bunch of other travelers in town, and dropped off a French girl working in Vientiane for two years and her friend. We still had a long ride out to the border, almost 20 KM away.

Stamp stamp, we were out of Laos and between countries. We used the last of our kip to buy two tickets onto a shuttle bus for 4,000 kip each (0.40 USD). We stowed our packs under the bus and were over the Friendship Bridge built by the Aussies with lots of daylight left. Dropped off at the Thai border crossing, we willed out paperwork, waited online … stamp Stamp, we’re back in Thailand!

It was strange for Dani to be happy about arriving back in Thailand after the slightly sour taste Bangkok had left in her mouth. Martha, on the other hand, was thrilled! Next stop was to see where her dad had been stationed during the Vietnam War! It turned out that the same guy from our ride to the border crossing, a Brit on vacation, was milling around. Are you going to the train station? Cool, let’s share another ride. With three, it cost us just 20 baht (0.70 USD) each for a nice car ride The driver of the car that took us the couple of kilometers to the train station was a character, picking up Martha’s bag to put it in the back of the car and saying, “Oh, 20 baht for you, 10 baht for bag!” The Brit’s name was Mickey, and he had found things in Laos to be too expensive for his tastes, which surprised us since we thought the prices, especially for accommodation in Vang Vieng, had been right on.

We arrived shortly to the train station. At payment time, we paid 40 baht from our leftover stash; Mickey had a 100 baht note, and the driver handed Mickey back our 40 baht payment as change for his larger bill. No maliciousness there, however, as the driver stood there waiting for Mickey to take notice that he’d been shortchanged. We finally pointed out that Mickey hadn’t been given enough change, so the driver pulled one more 20 baht note out of his wallet. Mickey accepted it and prepared to move on, still not thinking, but the driver was still standing there with a smile on his face. Oh, Mickey, look, shouldn’t you have more change than that? He ended up letting the driver keep the extra baht as a tip. We thought we should tip him too just for the show!

Our train tickets to Udon Thani cost just 11 baht (0.33 USD) each for the one hour ride. Our travel continued at a smooth pace as the train left 10 minutes later. Our seats were on the last car of the train, and the weight of our packs kept us from lifting them up to the luggage racks above. So our seats were taken by our packs, but we had no issue with standing after so many hours on the bus sitting. A couple of kind Thai passengers offered to put our packs up on the luggage rack for us, but we declined their offer. We did ask one what time they would arrive at their destination, Bangkok—5:00 AM on the overnight train. We felt for them as they faces all night of sitting straight up in those hard chairs.

Mickey showed up and sat across the aisle, having opted to see what Udon Thani was like, as well. About an hour later we arrived in UdonThani right on time. It took us a minute to find a tuk-tuk in the darkness of night. He gestured ‘right there’ for the King Hotel we wanted, but wanted 60 baht to take the three of us. Mickey got him down to 40 baht for the three of us, and we were off. To our surprise (since there is no map of this town supplied in the Lonely Planet), our tuk-tuk driver ended up bringing us not around the corner, but wayyyyy up the street and down the block in this large town.

OK, he was right to want to charge us that much—so we paid him 70 baht and checked in to the King’s Hotel. We took an air conditioned room for 270 baht—it was only 40 baht more than a fan room and we felt the need for some cool air. Packs down, we headed back out into town, stopping at an ATM and then at a great local’s place for dinner. Thai TV blared in the background, and we got our return taste of Thailand and ‘civilization.’ Ladies poured our beers and refilled our ice for us. Duck laap for Martha and fish laap for Dani took a while to arrive giving us time to decompress from the hundreds of kilometers traveled in the day. After ordering, Dani realized that laap probably was the Northern Thai (Issan) food that contained roasted rice flour—a flavor Dani didn’t like. And, we’d both ordered it so there was no option of switching. The meals arrived and Dani tasted with hesitancy. Yumm, thank goodness. The flavor was there, but it was subtle and did not have the bad aftertaste Dani had found elsewhere. Since it’s the region’s specialty, they must know how to make it right! We enjoyed dinner and our conversation together, reflecting on Laos and figuring out our next steps in Udon and beyond.

We walked back to the hotel stopping in at the 7-11 to look for more bug spray (which they didn’t have), and headed to bed almost immediately. We watched a few moments of TV coverage from NYC and had a moment of silence in memory of the Twin Towers. Amazed at how tiring sitting around can be, we fell asleep exhausted.

Wednesday, September 12, Day 122 ... Martha awoke with headache, so Dani typed a while until Martha felt better. We were both excited to get out and see the town. Martha found that there was a tourist office nearby (she’d picked up a map of town from the lobby of the hotel). We walked along the lake to the office, only to find it was closed. So we continued down ‘Safe Food Street’ to find breakfast/lunch, stopping at Relax, which helped Martha perk up for the day. Martha had pan fried fish with carrots and cold French fries; Dani had a pork chop and salad. Not exactly Thai food, but it was a popular place with the locals and helped to settle Martha’s stomach. After lunch, we wandered past the number of stalls setting up in the afternoon. The map listed the area as a bustling evening market area—should we stop for afternoon foot massage for only 3 USD? Not now, we are on another mission!

Back to tourist office, where it took three different people to reach the one that spoke enough English to tell us where the old US Air Force base was (he did not mention Army, unfortunately). He produced another map and circled some areas South of town that might be of interest to us. He also recommended some places where the local veteran Farangs got together to sit and talk about the old days.

We set out down the street to find an Internet café so we could ask Martha’s dad for some more details about his whereabouts in the early 1970s. Otherwise we were just taking pictures of every street corner along the way! We noted a café that was close to our hotel touting wireless access on the door, but kept going since we didn’t have our computer with us. Martha’s sandals were literally hanging on by a thread, so she stopped in a store that had many options; the man sleeping behind the counter told her that they didn’t have her choice (or any?) in her size. The next place up the street did want to offer us some service, so she bought a nice, supportive pair of sandals for 300 baht (less than 10 USD). As Martha talked with the salesman, she mentioned that her father had lived near here with the Army thirty years before, and he cryptically mentioned something about him having built Udon Thani, then. Martha would have to ask her dad about that one.

So many shops in this big, lived-in town. It was nice to be somewhere other than a routine tourist stop. As we walked the streets, snapping away at different street signs and the American-style 1970s architecture of many of the buildings, we stopped where a man and woman in their 70s were selling clothing on the side of the street; Martha noticed a shirt style that Dani had been admiring starting in VietNam, now hanging before us in Dani’s favorite color. Dani had been talking herself out of spending the money and carrying the item, but since it was so beautiful and in her favorite color… darn! Trapped.

Before too long, we found ourselves way down at the train tracks, still no Internet café. Across, there was a sidewalk food market with vegetables, frogs, eels, fish out of water, turtles (certainly on sale as pets, mistakenly here in the food market area, right?). The heat was revving up for the afternoon, so we stopped at the 7-11 for a cool drink of Thai tea. Dani found that the saang thaew #15 would take us back to the block right behind our hotel, so we hopped on with the school kids heading home from their learning day. We paid 16 baht (0.45 USD) for the ride all the way across town. A larger market area stood between us and our hotel room, and we passed by complete pigs’ heads sitting along the street. But we also found a water filter machine to refill our water bottles instead of buying new ones all the time!

Back to the hotel, we enjoyed a quick nap in mid-day heat before heading to the café with wireless. Sooo happy to have such a strong connection and to be able to post on the blog, check e-mail, and research flight options to Eastern Europe to visit our friend Alisa in Bosnia! We were there until past closing time, finally getting a blog post live just as time ran out and the Internet access was shut down! We dropped off the computer in the safety of our room, which we locked with one of the locks from our packs for extra protection, and head out to find dinner. As we walked up to another popular locals’ place, we stopped to take pictures of the City Pilar Temple.

Our restaurant for the night was a large open area that appeared to be a small former aircraft hangar, with its tin roof and empty openness. Martha’s fried rice should calm her belly. Dani felt silly after realizing she had ordered a spicy salad at a local’s restaurant in Thailand … and indeed it was REALLY spicy, gouramy fish salad. Not sure if that was intended to be ‘gourmet,’ or if ‘gouramy’ is a type of fish—it was small, deep fried, with edible bones and fins served too. It didn’t fill Dani up, though, so we stopped at the 7-11 once again on our way ‘home’ to pick up a steamed bun since the lady selling them on the street earlier had vacated her spot. Dani needed something to calm the belly fires. Back in the room, we read through the e-mails that had downloaded, and went to bed a little too late.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

September 8 to 10—Two Nights, a Festival, Extra (Rained-in) Night in Luang Prabang, Laos

2007-09-13T09:33:00.032-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Saturday, September 8, we packed and checked out, saying goodbye to Joe and his nice set of bungalows by 8:00 AM. We lugged our packs up the hill, across the bridge, and to the bus field, where we bought two tickets for 90,000 kip (about 9 USD) each on the 9:00 AM mini-bus to Luang Prabang in the central-North of Laos. Dani ran off to get us bread with jam for the road as Martha settled into one of the fold-down ‘jump seat’ next to two of the four guys from Finland in the bus. The two girls from France took up the back seat. Dani was half hanging off the short seat in front of Martha next to the other two Finnish men.

At the first of many stops along the ‘six hour’ trip, Dani went back to the large back row with the two tiny French girls. Two more stops allowed twenty minutes for the driver to eat and for each of us to wander around to potentially buy some food or other items. The drive itself gave us beautiful views of the rolling green hillsides and ragged limestone cliff faces. As the mountains rose, so did we, riding around bends, holding onto the seat as sign after sign gave the driver an idea of the road’s path ahead or simply warned that a dangerous curve was coming up. Up, up, up, our ears popped. Mountain tribes people had built their homes along the sides of this major highway. The homes numbered many more than when Martha had ridden this same curvy path in the past. So many small villages between mountain views.

The locals were busy with their daily lives as we rode past. Many were washing up at the new water stations installed by UNICEF where people could shower and get clean water. Others walked home from the fields carrying rice on their heads or a machete in hand. Through the villages, kids laughed and chased each other and women held watch at their food stands. Even though we considered the mini-bus full with the two of us, the four Finnish guys, the two French girls, and the three Laotians across the front seat, we were wrong as the driver picked up a young mother and her coughing daughter about halfway into the trip. The sky turned threatening as the day wore on, and we could see the cascading rains move across the valley and finally hit the windshield of the minibus.

Our arms were tired from holding on by the time we arrived in Luang Prabang, around 4:00 PM. Across the street from the mini-bus station to the main bus station, we contemplated getting on a bus the next morning to make it to the Field of Jars, many many miles away. As we stood there, sore and loaded down with our packs, we decided it was enough. The idea of another 20 hours on a bus in the next two days was just too much. We decided to stay in Luang Prabang two nights and then just head South back to Vientiane and onward into Thailand.

After the long day’s ride, Martha did not take too kindly to the tuk-tuk driver who kept calling her ‘Sir.’ Dani tried to calm her by explaining the language issue to him, but eventually we gave up and accepted his services to town for 15,000 kip for the two of us. The rains started just as we got into the back of the tuk-tuk, and ended just before he dropped us off at the nearest guest house mentioned in the guide book—Rattana Guest House. It was a lovely place, where for 8 USD per night, we got a clean, quiet room with two beds, a fan, and hot water for the shower. The nicest lady showed us both the cheaper room that we took and the luxurious pricer room with its soft bed, extra space, and television. She said we should shower and relax before coming to check in, and brought towels and a water bottle with two glasses.

After taking her advice, we explored town as evening approached. First, we walked through the evening food market looking for dinner. The stalls were full of fresh veggies for those who could cook at home. The assortment of pre-prepared meals were foreign to us, except for the heavily salted fish and the skewers of meat products, which tempted Dani but did not reel her in. In the end, we opted to watch the sun set over the river, dining at one of the many restaurants that lined the Mekong River. Martha had the red vegetable curry and sticky rice, and Dani ordered the wild boar steamed with vegetables. Each of us took turns capturing the colors of the sunset reflecting off of the lake, certain with each snap that the colors could not get any more beautiful.

Not yet ready for bed, we walked the evening market to see the beautiful craft work created by the Hmong mountain tribes, and wished we had enough room in our luggage for those beautiful bed spreads with their hand-woven designs. We did buy a thing or two, however, and watched as the superstitions of the region went into action—after a purchase is made, the vendor smacks all other items near the one that sold with the new cash and says “lucky lucky.” As we walked up towards town and our beds, we decided to go back to the room for an early night and leave the exploring for the morning. Back in the room we enjoyed the motionlessness to read, but Dani was sound asleep a short while later.

Sunday, September 9, our early night paid off as we were up by 8:30 AM. Martha was reading to finish her Agatha Christie novel, while Dani typed away at notes for the blog. In town the night before, we’d seen several places that did one-for-one book exchanges and a café touting WiFi access, so our morning seemed well laid out. The first café ‘with WiFi’ said it was not working, perhaps it was that they did not know the password because Martha found the signal was strong. The next café down the block that also ‘had WiFi’ would not connect, but Dani enjoyed her mocha and Martha a Lao coffee (prepared by an espresso machine) while Martha made the attempt to use their service. OK, so we’re not supposed to work on the blog in Luang Prabang. Darn.

Next stop should therefore be food. We walked up along the middle of the three main streets in town, and stopped by a book exchange that was free with a 1 USD donation to the orphanage—but they were closed. We found ourselves on third street however, which was also along the riverside. Men were spending their weekend playing with silver balls (a game that we imagined was like Bochee Ball at home). Other folks were down in the river fixing a boat. We enjoyed a relaxing walk in the shade, stopping to take photos, especially of the boys across the river who were jumping from a stairway, doing flips and splashing about.

This river arm connected to the main Mekong body that we had enjoyed the night before, and the path rounded the bend and headed back into town as we had reached the end where the three main roads connected. We stopped for a drink and hoped for breakfast where a bunch of people were sitting and dining. A man at another table spoke some English and tried to help, but no, they have no noodles. OK, we decided, then we’ll have what you’re having. So, we split a plate of curried meat (most likely goat) and some tangy field greens with beans and dipping curry sauce. Yummmmy, but, not a filling breakfast.

Walked slowly down the Mekong back towards town. Days before, our lovely Duck Ladies had asked if we’d tried the grapes here, and it made Dani realize that she’d almost completely skipped any kind of known fruit, opting for the exotic Asian fruits every time. However, in Japan, Dani’s favorite thing had been the pears. So, we stopped at a fruit vendor and picked up a small orange, some grapes, a pear, little finger-sized bananas, and a pomegranate for 16,000 kip (1.60 USD). The vendor first mistakenly said ’60,000 kip’ and then laughed at her own mistake (and our confused faces) and corrected it. Martha also found another book exchange, turning over her book and a dollar for a photo-copied version of ‘Diary of a Geisha,’ a book she had wanted to read for some time.

Back in the room, the nice daughter at Rattana gave us two plates and a knife for our fruit, to which we added the remaining langsarts from a few days before that were still in our room. Upstairs in the shared area, we stretched out on the mats there for fruit and siesta. Dani cut up the fruit and we ate. Martha then typed away while Dani read (and eventually snoozed in the afternoon warmth).

We dawdled in that comfortable space for quite a while, so that when we went out to catch the sunset, we were too late. It was still a pretty evening, so we settled beside the river for some more food. Dani ordered the green papaya salad and Martha ordered some fresh spring rolls, making for a light dinner after our fruity afternoon. OoooOOOOoooo Doggies! We finally hit the big time with the spicy food, as Dani’s face turned red and her eyes filled with tears over the UBER-SPICY papaya salad. Dani was not happy. Of course, Martha tried to help her eat it, and shared her spring rolls with Dani to make up a bit for her pain. Even though neither of us likes to waste food, we finally had to surrender and leave the spicy papaya salad when our cold beer glasses emptied too quickly.

Again, we returned to the street market to buy a few items that we had "slept on" the night before … so close to being done with our Christmas shopping! Martha went back to the room for clickty-click time while Dani wandered town looking more at the market items. The locals fair was getting bigger as the next day was a festival day, including a big boat race along the river—hopefully we’ll get to see some of that before our bus outta town! Dani saw a neat photo sticker maker like she’d seen popular in Japan 10 years ago, but now it was just a computer instead of a stand-alone machine that people could enter to have their stickers made. When she went to check out the Internet café to read emails and make sure nothing urgent was going on at home, she forgot to send a note out telling people we were okay in order to make sure that she returned in time to keep Martha from worrying about her. Oops. So we planned to get online tomorrow again before heading South in the evening.

Monday, September 10, was supposed to be our last full day in Laos. We packed our bags in anticipation for a 7:30 PM departure from Luang Prabang on an overnight bus all the way back to Vientiane. Dani set the trip up with our hostess at the guest house (buying the tickets from her would cost us a dollar more each than paying 3 USD to take a tuk-tuk round trip to buy the tickets at the bus station). We checked out of Room #102 by 10:30 AM. We left our things in the lobby of the guesthouse and went out into town.

Fiesta! Tons of people walked the market stalls that had appeared overnight up and down the street just a block, starting just a block and a half from our guest house. Martha’s stomach feeling rough, she opted for a solid baguette with chicken, cheese, tomato, and onion for 10,000 kip (1 USD), and we split it. The streets were filled with locals, and we could imagine that most of the town was enjoying their day off together with people from neighboring villages who had made the trip into town for the festivities by motorbike, boat, or car. We finished up our shopping in town when we ran into a woman from two days before; she had offered us a decent price on a particular item that we had bypassed in VietNam, but Martha still had to think on spending the money and carrying the item until Munich, Germany, a week plus away, when we would see our friends from home and they would take some items home for us. She bought it, making the woman happy as she pat the money across the other items she had up for sale.

The wares were beautiful, full of color. Dani noticed some women working on hand-embroidered items there as they waited for customers in their stalls, proving the hand-made quality of these items. We imagined that some of the women behind the booths had traveled overnight from their villages in the remote mountains, carrying the handiwork of many of the local women who had entrusted them to bring home money to help sustain their families for weeks or months to come. Security also had a presence here. We felt very safe among the crowds, enjoying the spectacle of children with balloons, and being slightly horrified by the many realistic-looking guns that the children carried around, occasionally pointing one at the other’s head and play-firing.

Having had enough of that scene, we walked down to the river again to see if anything was going on, but guessed by the number of people in town that there wouldn’t be anything along the riverfront quite yet. We sat to write a few postcards to family as a storm developed. We hiked back up into town and made it under the awning of the post office’s back door just in time for a tumultuous downpour, one of the worst and longest of the trip. Martha went to the front of the building and mailed the cards while Dani waited with the computer bag. Still no luck on finding a café with working WiFi, especially with this downpour, so we decided to go to an Internet shop to wait out the storm instead of standing under the awning. Soaked, we arrived at the shop where Martha was told that the Net was down there, as well.

We went to JoMa’s for coffee instead, watching through the window as the locals were forced to take down their stands and the festival came to an end for the afternoon. We were not the only ones sad for them as we heard other English-speaking JoMa patrons having similar pity for the short end to day’s events. We tried to wait out the storm by playing gin rummy and enjoying LARGE mugs of coffee, which also came with a free refill. After a time, a nice Israeli couple took the seats next to us. We struck up conversation with the lady of the duo as the gentleman was out in the streets on an errand, learning about their sons and daughter, the oldest of whom had become a professional traveler, telling his parents that he had a ‘PhD in Travel.’ She literally clapped at us, commending us on taking up this adventure, which so many people around the world do but that so few Americans do. She and her husband were planning a similar tour to ours, but in the opposite direction, with les time, and with flights instead of busses. They were next headed to Hanoi, so Dani offered to exchange the 50,000 dong note that she had somehow ended up with after our departure for 3 USD, giving them some change for the border quarantine and us a few extra smackeroos.

The couple decided to join us and check out our guest house as we headed back to drop off our new purchases. As soon as she saw Dani, the Lady of the Guest House looked relieved that she had shown up in the middle of the afternoon instead of at 7:00 PM, the latest we were supposed to return before our bus ride. The bus had been cancelled because of the rain! Martha and Dani took the news rather well, quite surprised that in all of their land travel in such a rainy monsoon season that this was the first time their travels were delayed because of a downpour! Thankfully, we had built an extra day into our schedule to return to Bangkok, so no worries on our end.

We discussed our options: 6:30 AM, 8:30 AM, or 7:30 PM busses left the next day. We asked her to please reserve the 8:30 AM bus for us, just in case the earlier one was also canceled or too full with hopeful travelers from tonight. We checked into a different room in the guest house because the beds were a bit too firm for Martha’s back in the one we had occupied. Ooo, softer beds in the room upstairs, so we resettled. By nightfall, the rains had calmed, so we headed back out into town to enjoy our last evening in Laos. The Internet shop was now functioning, so Martha sent notes out to the family while Dani walked to the ATM since our kip was running low enough to make us worry about being able to eat the next day.

The sign on the ATM did not have the Visa symbol—hmm, still not everywhere we want to be! She walked back to Martha. Martha finished her messages, but wanted to try the ATM since Dani hadn’t made an attempt but just trusted the sign. No luck. OK, we still had a few kip, and we had dollars that we knew would be accepted for our night’s stay and around town if absolutely necessary.

We had passed a place the previous two nights that was full of hippies enjoying the vegetarian fare, so we went there for 5,000 kip (0.50 USD) per plate buffet. We loaded up our plates, then passed them over to the lady behind the counter for her to throw all our chosen veggies into a wok to warm them up for us. What else should we do tonight? Go to concert in sloppy wet grounds? Go to see if any temples are open? Not really in the mood for anything, we walked back to the room and worked on notes for the blog.

Dani pulled a picture from London of Martha and put it next to a picture from today as she happened to be wearing the same outfit. The pants were now baggy, the shirt easily fit across her chest and shoulders. What a difference 120 days of not working, eating better, and exercising can make! Yay! Martha lay awake all night, reading her book and dealing with too much coffee in the afternoon, while Dani slept soundly for a few hours.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

September 6 to 7—The Road to Vang Vieng, Laos, Tubing Below the Mountain Peaks, and a Muddy Cave Climb

2007-09-13T09:31:00.008-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Thursday, September 6, the road called to us early, and we set out for our 7:00 AM bus ride with the locals headed North to Vang Vieng, Laos. Dani had not slept much in the night with some more of the belly sickness (she felt in the morning like she’d done 1,000 sit-ups), but we decided to risk it and catch the bus anyway. After checking out of the hotel, a tuk-tuk driver sitting at the front door charged us 10,000 kip (1 USD) to go to the morning market bus terminal in the center of town. The kind driver dropped us off directly behind the proper bus (yay!), and we hopped on.

It was definitely a local bus—mostly full, with the aisles and extra seats in the back loaded down with vegetables and other produce. Sandwich sellers came on the bus offering their wares to Dani while Martha was out buying water at a little shop nearby. Martha came back, and went to find the sandwich seller; unfortunately, she did not have proper change for a 50,000 note (5 USD) so Martha took all of the change that she had and declined a second sandwich to make up for it, more than doubling the price of the 5,000 kip sandwich. But it was good and nice to have something in her belly, so no complaints.

On the bus, the mountainsides opened up for us once again, offering beautiful scenery. We stopped many times to pick up more passengers and once on a hillside for everyone to have a moment with Mother Nature. Most of the local women wear long skirts that are big enough for two people but folded over to wrap around, with beautiful designs on the bottom; Dani noticed that they also wear pants under these skirts, and when nature calls on a hillside next to the bus, they simply open the wrap and pull the skirt to above their shoulders to make a nice screened tent for themselves! Quite discreet!

We arrived in Vang Vieng around 1:00 PM and accepted a saang taew (pickup truck with two benches along each side of the back cargo bin) ride to our chosen guest house. It was across a new bridge over the rushing river, so the driver dropped us off next to the bridge. We paid 4,000 kip (0.40 USD) each as bridge toll and walked over the well-constructed bridge, admiring the view of the gorgeous mountains. Down the rocky path and to the right, we found the May Lyn Guest House, recommended by LP and rightfully so. We were lucky that they had a room left, although all the bungalows were taken.

Martha went to look at the available rooms while Dani stayed in the outdoor dining room of the guest house. A dog came up to Dani wondering if she was trustworthy enough to ask for some petting; Dani bent down to scratch the dog’s face and pet the top of her head for a few moments. Oh, it’s been months since Dani pet a doggie! When Dani lost balance a little, the dog was startled and started to bark. She kept barking, even as one of the longer-term guests attempted to calm her. One of the other guests said, “It’s a Lao dog, not an American dog.” Road-weary, tired, sick, being barked at, and now outted as the 'obnoxious American' who ruined the serenity of everyone’s breakfast was almost too much for Dani. Martha finally returned after chatting it up with the former-Irish now-Laotian owner of the place, and we went up to the room to settle in. “No, I don’t want to nap,” says Dani, “I just want to get out of here.” So, we threw our swim suits into a bag, took water and our cameras, and headed out of the guest house for the afternoon to see whether tubing on the river was still an option for the day.

Vang Vieng is a quiet town in the daylight, although much more built-up than Martha recalls. We had lunch in a cute restaurant at the corner. It looked nice, though no one was in it at 2:00 PM in the afternoon, which was a little concerning, but shouldn’t have been because few farangs were around at this time of day in the main stretch of town. The waiter’s name was Pia, as he informed us, and he was a nice guy, very friendly. We chatted with him for a while and enjoyed a lunch of pad thai for Dani with a coffee and banana fruit shake; Martha had a chicken curry with lots of veggies and rice with a lime shake and some coffee.

After dining, we decided to hit the closest tubing place, and used their back room to change into our swim suits. Dani decided to leave her bag with them, though it made Martha exceedingly nervous. She did put together a small plastic bag of her camera, wallet, and toilet paper—to take onto the river. Onto a saang taew with four other people towards the water’s edge, we listened to the other tubers and eavesdropped on the two guys travelling together from Spain. Eventually, we chit chatted with them a bit, and learned that they were from San Sebastian in the North corner of Spain—we would have stopped in this town on the recommendation of Martha’s sorority sister, Emily, had we stayed in Spain for a full year.

At the water’s edge, the driver of the saang taew unloaded the tubes and left. We went into the river with no explanation on when to get out or anything for safety! But once we were in the water … ahhhhhhh. Nice temperature in the river, and a lovely quickness to the flow. We were able to lean back, hold onto each other’s hands or feet to stay together, and relax along with the pieces of driftwood floating by. A kilometer or so along the way and to the right appeared a bar with loud music and a bunch of people hanging out. OK, let’s go ahead and float on over! Martha missed the landing point while Dani was pulled in by a strong swimmer. Finally, Martha came walking out of the forest having gotten out a little way’s down.

We ordered a beer, and saw someone jump from a platform high up in a tree into the river. He swam a little way downstream, then was pulled back in by one of the workers with a bicycle tube on a rope. Oooo, that looks like fun, thought Dani. She handed her rings from her fingers to Martha, and climbed the ladder just as another guy jumped in. At the top, Dani could clearly see the large pieces of driftwood occasionally floating by, and identified other obstacles that would make for a not-so-fun experience if she jumped at the wrong time, including three tubers headed into the bar.

As she was assessing (and, yes, getting over the realization that she was actually pretty high up in the tree), the young man who worked at the top of the tree passed her a handle. Oooo, even better than jumping, Dani gets a zip line! Yeah!!! She grabbed hold of the zip handle, reviewed the waters one last time, and jumped. Zzzzzzzzzzzziiiiiipppp over the muddy waters! What fun! Dani hopped out, smiling and pulling her swim top back up. She climbed the slippery muddy banks back to the deck where Martha waited. OK, now Martha was ready for her turn! She was unfortunately now third in line. But, soon enough, zippppppppppp into the river she went!

Good music (well, a lot of Red Hot Chili Peppers to be most accurate) thumping along the waters, cool breezes, a zip line and jumping—no wonder we’ve been hearing about this town from other travelers along the way! Wheeee! Dani went again down the zip line!! This time, it was a bit more perilous for her, though, as she forgot to take a deep breath before she landed in the water, and was pulled under for a moment without air. But, she was just fine and smiling by the time she came back up on shore.

Back into our tubes, Martha had her ‘almost died in Laos’ moment as her tube was sucked under the deck at the next bar, and the workers had to come down and help her maneuver to the rope and be pulled back up to the landing. We met up with the Spanish guys again at this next bar where it was fun just to hang out (and listen to the Red Hot Chili Peppers). A tube popped, and it turned out to belong to one of the Spaniards. One of the workers grabbed the tube, brought it back for repair, and returned it to the guy free of charge. (After all, the fee for ‘lost tubes’ is one thing, but as long as you showed up with a tube, it could be deflated … most of them had multiple repair patches to them.) We watched in amazement at the swimming abilities of the workers at the bar; they jumped from the edge of the bar, swam out to grab tubers who weren’t otherwise going to make it to shore on their own. What a great way to ensure the bar had visitors! As the Spaniards drunkenly bebopped around the bar, we had fun talking with a Kiwi/Aussie couple, Vicky and Dave.

Soon, it was time to move on to the next pub, the last before heading back through the quiet waters into town. As the quick waters swirled, Martha didn’t make it to the water’s edge, opting to enjoy some quiet time bopping along the river. At the bar, Dani waited for Martha to again walk out from the forest as she had at the first bar. But after many minutes, one of the bar workers who had a motorized kayak showed up shaking his head, and Dani realized that Martha wasn’t going to materialize. The bar looked like a lot of fun, with a pool table and most of the folks we’d seen along the way in previous hangouts, but eventually Dani hopped back into her tube and floated on downstream. She spied another bar on the left side of the river where a bunch of Irish guys were hanging out. Nope, Martha wasn’t there, so back into the tube. Two Irish guys floated by on one tube with a deflated tube in tow, and yelled up at their buddies for not giving them enough advanced notice to get out and join them!

At the fork in the river with two flags—one red, one green—Dani smartly opted for the left fork with the green flag, remembering Capt’n Harry’s sailing rule of ‘red right returning.’ Following in Martha’s path, she went through the slow lazy residential area. In the meantime, Martha had been bobbing along, taking photos of the towering mountainsides and enjoying the time alone. She passed pretty close to the water’s edge, looking for places to get out, which meant that she occasionally passed locals fishing with their large nets, and had to quietly hang so as not to disturb the fishes. She eventually got out at a rocky sideline, climbing up to find the tubing office right in front of her!! She collected the bag left safely with the tubing group and headed back to our lunch spot in hopes that Dani would know to find her there. Pia was happy to see Martha, and the two of them passed some nice time together.

Dani learned that the rivers rejoined, so it wouldn’t really matter which flag you chose to follow. At a small sign that read ‘Tubing Stop Here,’ she hopped out, finding herself behind someone’s house. As she made it to the street, she realized she had landed pretty far downstream from the tubing office. As she walked back up the street, Dani saw Martha (who had spotted Dani first) standing on the street talking with Pia. He invited Dani to change in the bathrooms (Martha had already done so) and get more comfortable.

We then sat and talked with him for a few hours, learning that he had a good friend in the Netherlands who had invited him to visit and would even pay the airfare (gosh, aren’t those Dutch just wonderfully sweet)?! We helped him complete the visa application to the Schengen Nations before wandering up the street towards the ATM to take some money out for dinner instead of walking back to the guesthouse and paying the bridge toll again. This ATM did not accept our Visa card (apparently, it’s not everywhere we want to be), but an Italian from earlier in the day invited us to sit with him and a group he was amassing. Italian, Dutch, two Asian Americans who freaked Martha out a bit when they responded to her in perfect American English, an Israeli, and more as the night passed, each wandering in at the request of the Italian guy. Dani spoke with a Japanese gentleman who let her know that he had been hanging out in a bar up the street with two Spanish guys who were pretty drunk—yay the Spaniards made it back to shore! As much fun as it was hanging out, by 11:30 PM we needed some food and weren’t at all sure if the guest house closed its doors by late-night, so homeward we went. Thankfully, the proprietor of the May Lyn, a friendly and interesting guy named Joe, made us a baguette and cheese, and we hung out with American Cleo and British Paul, who had each been there 10 days already, sitting on the balcony sharing stories and enjoying the riverside silence.

Friday, September 7, we decided to stay another night in Vang Vieng, especially since we’d gotten to bed so late the night before and had spent SO much time on buses of late. Breakfast at the guest house was good, including baguettes, cheese, and eggs. A necessary evil, we started the day walking to town to drop off laundry (where it would be machine washed AND dried for just 4,000 kip a kilogram [0.40 USD]!). As the morning heated up, we stopped for a fruit shake at a place near the Laundromat before walking to the bus station to try to review options out of town.

The open expanse of the bus stop looks like an old air strip. We had hoped to learn about the locals' bus up to Luang Prabang, but found nothing but an easier route back to town and towards our guest house than the way that our tuk-tuk driver had taken us upon arrival. For lunch, we stopped at a spacious hangout for some tuna laap with sticky rice (for Martha) and some gloppy rice and meat-based stuff for Dani that we don’t remember the name of, with a side of rice. Some ginger tea for Martha was given the task of settling her stomach a bit, and Dani enjoyed her coffee.

The only damper on lunch was the horrible movie that some other tourist chose to play on the big screen television—a slasher film about a group of people on a remote paradise island. Not pleasant lunchtime background noise, so we preoccupied ourselves with Yahtzee while awaiting our meals. (Food in this country/part of the world is prepared upon order, so can take quite a while). As we were leaving the restaurant, Dani was really not feeling well, and had to concede to no more fruit shakes while in Laos because the ice in them could be made with unfiltered water and be the cause of her recurring tummy discomfort. So sad.

Then, our day really started. We stopped off at the guest house to lighten our load before a nice walk out to a cave remotely located a couple of kilometers away. We turned left out of the guest house and took a right at the roadside sign for the Phadeng Koan Kham Cave. We had to cross a rice field, which provided us 600 meters of fun squishing through the mud, hopping over man-made streams for irrigation, and getting a close look at the dragonflies and butterflies that inhabited the field.

A river bed gave us a chance to get some of the mud off of our shoes and pants, and provided some relief from the hot afternoon. As we approached the mountainside, we paid a cave toll of 20,000 kip each. A man started walking with us, carrying flashlights. We assumed he was a guide, but we had not talked cost at all (and really didn’t intend to explore in the cave since it was late in the day and could be rather dangerous), so we asked him what was up. His services would cost us 50,000 kip (5 USD), so we declined. He warned us that it was dangerous to go in alone without flashlights, and we assured him we would not be going into the cave. We were most interested in the walk!

Up the mountain, the terrain changed from the grassy paths of previous wanders and turned into monsoon-soaked red mud. It became slippery as it got steeper, and we had to be extra slow and careful as we walked to enjoy the beautiful views. The mud then disappeared and we enjoyed some low-level rock climbing, pulling our legs up high, holding onto small crevices of rock, pulling ourselves up and over and up again. (We can see how Jochen and Connie from near Koln in Germany like this so much!) Occasionally, we encountered a crumbling sign with an arrow pointing the way, but it was not easy to figure out which way to go at all times. We reached the cave finally, took a few photos of the first room, peaked into the darkness, and headed back down, carefully making our way down the rocks, through the mud, and back into the rice-cluttered field.

We did stop for a few minutes to swim in the creek to wash off some of the newly-collected clay and mud from our pants, shirts, faces, and shoes. The light was fading, giving us a great view of the mountains at dusk. And like so many beautiful moments, they can never quite translate perfectly to film (or digital photography these days).

Back to the guesthouse for a proper shower and dry clothes before heading back into town to pick up the laundry. Walked up the street where people were in every bar, lounging watching TV and hanging out with a Beer Lao in hand. We decided since we had tried the Thai style of massage that we should also try a Lao massage. The atmosphere was wonderful—curtains were pulled around each bed in the large room. We lay down and got some body work done. The guy who worked on Martha was very strong, cracking her back and really getting into her shoulders. The woman who worked on Dani was gentler, and she kind of wished she had gotten a deeper massage, but was still wonderfully relaxed by the end of the session. The massages cost us 30,000 kip (3 USD) for head and back therapy, and it was worth every penny. When the massage was done, we were invited to a small table on the side of the room for a cup of tea.

We walked around the corner to get the laundry before heading back to bed when the rains started to come down. It was amazing to be seated outside of the little café that did our laundry and see the sheets of rain pouring down at the end of the street before the monsoon made its way to our end, like a wet blanket being pulled over the stretch of the avenue. We had enough time to ponder the strange noise down the street that turned out to be rain on the tin roof tops, before the water wall reached us. A man ran out from his seat at the Internet café part of the shop to move his motorcycle under cover. We sat in front of the laundry shop for 20 minutes until the rains stopped. Martha wanted to stop at the riverside restaurant for dinner to listen to the sound of the water as we dined. But, it was empty and perhaps closed, so we went back to the guesthouse where Joe made us another baguette with cheese. We hung out in the dining area until late at night, talking with the fun guests as they played spades.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

September 3 to 5—Ba-Bye HaNoi, VietNam, Helloooo Vientiane, Laos!

2007-09-13T09:31:00.001-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Day 113, Monday, September 3, was a rainy morning. Dani was up at 6:30 AM typing away while Martha attempted to sleep in—still difficult with the street noise below. We went down to get breakfast, typed a quick note to the Duck Ladies to offer to get them off the hook if they didn’t want to come up to our place, packed, and got a phone call just past 11:00 AM that there were three ladies from Holland waiting for us in the lobby! We paid and officially checked out of Room #301 Darling Backpackers Guest House, paying 40 USD for the room for four nights, 18 USD each for our tickets for the about-20-hour bus ride to Vientiane, Laos, and 44 total USD for our day trip to Halong Bay, bringing our four nights in Hanoi to roughly 120 USD without food and puppet show. We deposited our packs in the back room, were told by Tien at the front desk to be back before 6:00 PM, and were off for the day down our crazy street of market items. Now, though, we were a fivesome gawking at the street offerings, taking photos (Martha got some decent shots and video of frogs, pig pieces, her companions, and the town’s ‘flavor’), and heading into the main complex of Don Xuang Market.

We didn’t spend too much time in the market, as it was crowded and we were constantly pushed around. We did take some time to look for shoes for Martha, just to have a task, but the decent 150,000 dong sandals that she found were not available small enough for her feet. She did spend some time drooling over the other shoes, but was disappointed that so few offered any kind of arch support. The Duckies enjoyed playing the shoe game with Martha; we continued our song-creation tendencies started the night before (‘Ho! Ho! Ho Chi Minh!’), and relish more time together.

Our afternoon then commenced to a routine of stopping for beverages and food! First, we found coffee at a little stall down an alley lined with different lunch and drink options. We found space for all of us and the gentleman of the pub walked off to another stall to get the coffee and tea we requested. The lady patron of the bar was working hard with cerebral palsy, and did a great job of entertaining and educating us while continuing to prepare the meal that they would serve for the day. A cat slept under the plastic table, and eventually, Dani was talked into being the guinea pig of the group to try the ‘che’ that was being served at the table next to ours.

Che is one of those ‘you should try this’ drinks (lunches?) recommended in the Lonely Planet. It can intimidating to try, however, as it is a collection of unknown gelatinous consistencies, beans, coconut milk, and additional pieces of whoknowswhat. But, man, is it good!! Dani’s bravery benefited all of us as we shared the glass; only Saskia continued to make a face as Dani slurped up long pieces of gelatin like gummy worms. The occasional bean was looked at with interest in whether it was really just a bean.

From this stand, we trekked around a bit more in quest for lunch, passing a restaurant with dog on a platter by the door (the guidebook says that there is a town 10 KM from center city that will serve dog, but what is it doing all over here?). We popped into a little café thinking that there might be food, but it was just drinks, so we enjoyed some watermelon fruit shakes or tea. Onward, we passed the oldest temple in HaNoi and found ourselves outside the Ladybird Café, which had been recommended to Martha by Miss Khanh on the trip to HaLong Bay.

The Ladybird Café offered a very pleasant atmosphere and lovely food: the five of us chose fresh spring rolls (Dani), stir-fried greens (Manon), Szechuan-style tofu (Martha) … (and I don’t remember what Saskia and Marjan had … DOH!). Regardless, we were there more for the time with our Duck Ladies than anything else.

Before we left, we had to share our little people-watching corner of the 2,000 dong fresh beers (which were really more like drinking bubbly water). The ritzy hotels continued to send their patrons around in the slow-moving bicycle-driven rickshaws, vendors and individual sellers continued to try to sell us a hat, and we enjoyed giggling about other foreigners and guessing their origin.

All too soon it was time to leave, but we dawdled even longer, not wanting to depart … besides all of the minibuses had picked us up a good 30 minutes later than they said they were going to everywhere in Viet Nam, including for our Halong Bay tour out of Hanoi. With the bus officially leaving at 6:30 PM, what was another 10 minutes? A lot, it turned out, as the Duck Ladies escorted us back to our hotel and we turned the corner of the market towards home, we saw Tien from the front desk at Darling Backpacker’s in the street. He had been looking for us, and now we were late! He meant it when he said to be back by 6:00 PM! He grabbed one of our packs; Dani’s shoe wasn’t on properly; we hugged the Ladies good-bye; Martha threw the pack on not taking the time to arrange it for best comfort. We’re running down the street, a good five long blocks, and ended up on the back of two motorbikes WITH OUR PACKS on, Dani still gripping the Christmas Happy to You balloon and Martha working with her driver to find a good spot for the Dutch Lady drinks that Saskia put into her hands at the last minute (for the Duck Ladies had run along with us down the road to wish us a safe journey).

The ride to the bus terminal was not a short or easy one, since we had not a second to adjust our packs into good positions. It was a tough 20-minute ride to the far South bus terminal; we both fell off the bikes once they stopped, relieved to see each other and to be alive. Along with two other Westerneres, we were ushered onto the back of a bus that looked very different from the photo in the lobby of the hotel. (Was this what we would have ended up on had we not been late? We’ll never know.) We got settled, thankful to have made it onto a bus tonight, and spent the first 30 minutes in extreme gratitude for having made it onto the bus and for the wonderful joy of the last few days of friendship and laughter with the Duck Ladies.

As we settled in for the 20-hour bus ride, we fell asleep a bit with the rocking of the bus. It made many stops along the way to fill up the bus or add some wares to the undercarriage of the vehicle. The bus contained mostly local men, with three women besides us and the two before-mentioned men from the West, who were very tall and very blond. All of the long bus rides we’ve been on have stopped every few hours for the passengers to eat and use facilities—this bus only stopped on the side of the road when and where it was convenient for the men. Dani had not wanted another Doner Kebab, and when Martha offered some of hers, Dani said no, certain we’d stop soon for some noodle soup. Thankfully, the yogurt drinks from the Duck Ladies sustained her until our eventual noodle stop in the middle of the night. So sweet of them, and so appreciated at that moment.

We had opportunity to truly appreciate the United States, as well, as we were subjected to the local men smoking their cigarettes on the bus. The Vietnamese women in the front were none too happy about it, either, making faces at them at every occasion. Thankfully, we were by a window and could let fresh air in as needed to try to get the smell away from us. One guy was more considerate, trying to blow the smoke directly out the window; others just blew it right into the bus. With Dani’s hunger and the ill air, the cranky set in—right about 10:00 PM, when the bus was stopped for an hour to load boxes of tiles that were being packed on the side of the road (where is the efficiency, people?). Yes, we had been sold a nice luxury-bus ticket, but had we been dropped on the cheap locals bus instead? Or did we missed the luxury bus, and they kindly placed us on the next available ride out of town? HaNoi travel Web sites and books are full of stories of people being scammed or ripped off by their hotels or tour guides, so thoughts turned jaded from the joy of the day. And we had witnessed one case of scamming at our hotel, as Dani heard a man in the lobby talking about how many times he had made sure with the front desk people that they would pick up the cost of the ride from the airport, only to be told on arrival that ‘this was only for people staying more than two nights). We had also read about hotels that might quote you a room price that includes tax or free breakfast, only to learn that the free items are only on the first day. Dani avoided any misunderstanding by writing down their offerings the first day so that we had it on record. We had no problem checking out with the proper billing, although we had booked two trips through the hotel, so they were probably happy not to mess with us.

Anyway, all of these thoughts were running through Dani’s head in the hour that we sat waiting for the bus to be filled with boxes down the center aisle. In combination with the little sleep she’d had the night before, the Serious Crankies set in, including a bit of a crying spell as the hour wore on. The bus finally started back up again, and the air conditioning was even turned back on for a little while. The boxes of oak panels turned out to be a blessing, as Martha was able to stretch her legs out on top of the boxes to rest in the aisle seat, giving us both more space in the tiny seats. We slept decently during the night. At 3:00 AM, the bus finally stopped for a noodle soup break, and Dani took advantage of it. We also picked up a stack of rice cakes with peanut/lemon grass brittle in the middle to make sure we had some food the next day. With food in her tummy, Dani was finally able to sleep well.

Tuesday, September 4, we awoke around 6:30 AM, and the bus was already stopped. Dani walked around to find that it was indeed the border crossing out of VietNam, but it didn’t open until 7:00 AM. We paid one dollar each for the exit, then went back to stand by the bus to keep an eye on our things. One of the guys from the bus pointed down the hill and asked us to go along. Martha at first didn’t realize what he was asking, but what had happened to the other passengers, anyway? We followed the last from the VietNam side down the hill and into the Laotian check point, where we arranged for our 30 USD visas. We were asked to pay, in the Laotian currency of kip, about an extra dollar to get our passports back, for unknown reason, but we ended up paying in baht since we had no more single dollar bills and had yet to exchange money for kip.

As we left the building, the same gentleman from the bus service was coming up the hill to get us, and we three jogged back to the bus and were off as the rain came down. We’ve made it to Laos, our eighth country on this adventure! As the bus took off slowly through the mountains of Eastern Laos, we snoozed through the breakfast stop and were eventually back to our thankful selves as we relished the rough black-and-green–toned mountainsides. Martha had been particularly taken with the vast water sources in VietNam, and was thrilled to see the rivers along the roadside in Laos, as well. What stunning beauty!

By 10:00 AM, we were oh, so thankful we had purchased those rice cakes with peanut molasses the night before, as our bellies rumbled. Each of the little rice cakes was rather filling, but we rationed them throughout the day’s journey to make sure that we did not get hungry and cranky. As the hours passed, we stopped another couple of times along the side of the road for restroom breaks. The men were definitely better treated on this bus, as they had an easy time of relieving themselves in the rainwater ditches along the roadside and the women had to climb into the brush up hills and down into small valley to find a bit of privacy. Dani had bad thoughts of US-dropped land mines that might be unsuspectingly hidden among the brush, but her urgency overcame the danger and she retained her limbs.

After 21 hours on the road, we finally arrived in Vientiane’s southern bus station, around 4:30 PM—took a saang taew for 1 USD each. As we climbed aboard with the Swedish gents who were also on the bus, Martha took a picture of the ‘Christmas Happy to You’ balloon with Dani to prove it had made it to Laos, but as the truck started, the ‘well-tied’ loop that Dani had created on her bag for the balloon dislodged, and we watched sadly as our remembrance of the Duck Ladies floated off. So sad. Dreams of many pictures in front of Lao landmarks floated into the cloudy sky. The Swedish Fish thought it was hilarious, but they had also found great humor in the balloon’s presence since they saw Dani get off of the motocyclo with it the day before! As we journeyed to Vientiane, the Swedish Fish told us that they had been there three years ago and it seemed to have grown substantially even since that time. Martha agreed that the city had been built up quite a lot since her visit in 1999.

In short order, we were dropped off in the center of town, two doors away from the Orchid Hotel, a guest house that had been recommended by both LP and TravelFish.org. We checked into Room #103 just to the right of the top of the stairs, where we got two beds, a hot shower, a desk, cable television, a minifridge, and air conditioning for 15 USD per night. After a shower—perhaps the most important point of the day—we headed off to find an ATM and food. Our version of the SE Asia on a Shoestring LP came out in 2006 and said there was one ATM in the entire country of Laos—when we found an ATM, thinking that it might still be the only one, we found that it did not give us money nor a receipt after Martha put in the request for funds! Ahhhhh. However, up the street and around the corner, we did find another ATM, and this one worked just fine for us. (There turned out to be many ATMs, not only in Vientiane, but also in Vang Vieng and Luang Prabang, Laos—things really do seem to be getting better for the Laotian people!

Next stop, a proper meal. Vientiane is situated along the Mighty, Murky Mekong, and we headed right to the riverside for dinner, to watch sun set, and to enjoy the peace and quiet of Laos, realizing just how much the incessant, constant, overwhelming honking in VietNam had begun to wear on our nerves. Dinner was lovely as we returned to a more Thai-influenced cooking style, which should be read as SPICY! Martha had yellow curry with sticky rice (so fun to pick up with your hands and smoosh into your food!); Dani’s order of a One-Thousand Year Egg was no longer offered for the night, so she had fried pork with steamed Chinese vegetables and rice. We took our time, just enjoying the evening air and taking in life off of a bus. Back at the hotel, we realized we were really tired, but not quite ready for bed, so we headed out again to the Full Moon Café, where Dani encountered one of her ‘favorite things from the trip,’ a watermelon and lime fruit shake, and Martha finally succumbed to her buffalo-wing addiction (well, sort-of) by ordering the ‘water buffalo wings’!! We passed into night with some Yahtzee but were back to the room to bed by 10:00 PM.

Wednesday, September 5, we took a slow day exploring Vientiane, where Martha took the lead since she knew some of the touristy landscape from her previous visit. In the lobby by mid-day after taking our time to wake up, shower, and dress, we encountered a man sitting on a bench across from the main hotel counter. He began by saying he was ‘poor’ when we returned his query of how he was doing, putting us a bit on edge from the get-go. He started asking us personal questions about where we were from and how we had slept (not too well with the construction on the place that had started at 7:00 AM!). By the time he asked for our room number (!!), Martha asked him why he wanted to know. “Oh, to clean the room.” He never indicated that he was with the hotel, and the two guys we had seen working the front desk the day before did not speak with us at all. So she responded with a semi-curt, “Oh, no worries, we are just here two nights. No need to clean the room.” And we departed.

We stopped at another café around the corner for coffee and breakfast: apple cinnamon pancakes for Dani, and a luscious egg and ham wrapped in tortilla and covered with cheese like an enchilada for Martha. The waitress poured cold water for us—wow it’s been a long time since a restaurant gave us water—and we unfortunately drank it down, not thinking of the implications of the local tap water. After breakfast, we ventured to the second floor of the restaurant, where a local photographer had posted photos from his journey through the countryside working with the COPE Project, a nonprofit organization that, for just $50, can help a landmine or other amputation victim get the prosthesis needed to have a more normal life. We took down the information to contact this group in the future, and encourage others to consider giving to this great group. So little money that can change a person's life forever!

A bit uncomfortable with the morning’s verbal exchange at the hotel, we decided to drop back by to check on our stuff and also to apply some prickly heat powder to Dani’s back—Asia is hot and wet and causes those of us unaccustomed to these conditions and 21 hours on a bus to break out in a very itchy rash. We were calmed to find random question-asking man from the lobby behind the front desk looking as if he worked there! We were more pleased to find all was well in the room.

After the last two-days on the bus, we were thrilled to have a long day of walking ahead of us, although you wouldn’t have known it from Martha’s cranky tired mood as the day’s heat wore on. Dani continued to put up with her, having to proverbially kick her out of it only every other minute. (How many of our friends know of Dani’s sainthood?) We walked through the grounds of a beautiful wat around the corner that Martha recognized from her first time in this city (not much us looked the same—there has been an immensity of development in this place in the last eight years) and around the Presidential Palace. The President must not have been home as we saw absolutely no guards on duty.

We stopped at the local outdoor market in hunt for some silver spoons that we had passed up in Cambodia, to no avail, but were instructed by a kind shop woman how to properly pronounce "silver coffee spoons". The wares in Laos are definable by the exemplary needlework clothing and bags that the women in the mountain villages create. We did not spend too much time in the market as we were still a bit shopped-out from VietNam, and exited down an alley filled with motorbikes. The Laotian Tourist Office was also along this long stretch of road, and we stopped by to find it was an impressive display of information about the different offerings in the country. The staff was equally awesome, as they helped us figure out the local bus schedule to head to Vang Vieng, North of the capital, for the next morning as a price of 20,000 kip (about 2 USD) each.

Nearing the great Patuxay monument, also known as the ‘Vertical Runway’ (as the Laotian government chose to use concrete gift provided by the United States to create a still-unfinished ‘Arch de Triumph’–style monument in the center of town instead of the airport runway that was intended to advance the economy), we stopped to take photos of the big hunk of concrete. Before we neared the entrance archways, Dani stopped to buy some of her favorite-fruit citrusy langsarts, where the lady first quoted her a price of 70,000 kip. Confused, Dani looked at the lady to make sure that she understood that the lady wanted about 7 USD for the small pile of fruit, at which point the lady apologized for her zero-error and corrected herself with a charge of 7,000 kip, or about 0.70 USD! As Martha’s crankies continued, she opted to get some green tea and munch on some langsarts while Dani climbed up the vertical runway to see the great view of the city. Looking at Dani’s photos upon her return from her triumphant climb, Martha couldn’t wait to get home to see her old photos and compare them to see how the landscape has changed!

Further North towards the grand Golden Stupa, we stopped at another temple, which Martha also remembered from her past along this same stretch of road. Vacant the last time she walked by, the grounds were now cluttered with children playing soccer, chasing each other around, or simply gawking at us visitors. A couple of kids followed us for a short time, but we mostly just quietly walked around the large main building and headed back out into the streets in an attempt to disrupt their day as little as possible.

As we approached the Golden Stupa’s gated entryway, we learned part of the reason for Martha’s cranky disposition, as her stomach started to violently cramp and she headed off to the bathroom. We know better than to drink tap water! What were we thinking at breakfast? The moment passed, however, with just occasional lingering pain as we walked up and around the massive pointy monument. Around the walled outbanks of the Golden Stupa, we found an impressive art display from a local and internationally renowned artist, Khamsouk Keumingmuang. We enjoyed seeing his impressive and colorful views of local Laotian life, as well as images of Angkor and a few other international sites. Martha commented that she would love to pick one of the paintings up, as she could imagine someday she would find a collection from this man among the National Galleries we have so been enjoying.

Exiting, we walked to the right to get a closer look at the nearby temple, stopping for a few moments to speak with a young English-language Laotian student, who asked us where we were from, what kinds of jobs we had at home, and the like. But Martha yearned for the hotel room, and Dani’s tummy also began to feel a bit off, so we talked with the tuk-tuk driver outside of the temple, who quoted us 40,000 kip to get back to the hotel. Four dollars! It was not that far, and the fee was twice as much as it had cost us to get from the more-distant bus station to the hotel the day before. Now, all prices are negotiable in Laos, and he started to bring the price down, even showing us a sheet of laminated paper stating that the local union had set a price at 30,000 kip; he would take us for 30,000 kip. Frustrated with the initial attempt to overcharge us on a ‘set price,’ we decided it was best to walk back, and ignored him as he followed us out towards the gate, even bargaining down to 15,000 kip. Since none of these tactics will change until foreigners refuse to engage in the nonsense (we feel), we stuck with our footpath for better or worse.

Dani’s belly had seriously settled down by the end of our talk outside the wat with the local student, so we were fine to walk. School was just letting out, so we enjoyed seeing the lives of waiting-for-our-ride students lined up against the outer white walls of the school grounds in their uniform white shirts and blue trousers or skirts. Kids here seem to love the same things as kids at home: Dora the Explorer, ice cream, balloons, and a timely ride from their parents. The streets were busy, but we loved it as there were fewer motorbikes and NO HONKING. When we got to a restaurant with air conditioning, we stopped in for a drink and something sweet. Martha had a chocolate chip sundae and amazing cantaloupe fruit shake. Dani had sweet red beans in soy milk with ice. Again, we were served water, and again, without thinking, we downed several glasses each as our thirst overtook us. (What is WRONG WITH US?)

Feeling better, and with the wearing heat no longer an issue as the day began to close into evening, we stopped along the way to gaze at the Black Stupa and were in for a treat!! The sunset behind the ancient monument was like nothing we’d ever seen before—above the lining of the clouds that hid the end-of-day sun, we saw what we can only describe as a small, daytime version of the Northern Lights. Dani explained it best, perhaps, as looking like a ‘rainbow factory’ where angels are putting together the colors needed to make rainbows. Along the upper edge of the clouds were neon streaks of green and blue on one side/red, orange, and yellow on the other, shifting and changing as we watched. As we took photos in poor attempt to capture the moment, we ended up in conversation with a Lao gentleman who was waiting to pick his wife up from her work at the American Embassy just down the alley. He had never seen such a sight before, either, and joined us to enjoy the light show. He suggested that we might have an even better view by the river, but we didn’t want to miss a moment, which was a good decision as we never would have made it that far downtown before the phenomenon had ended.

As darkness crept in, we walked back to the riverside for dinner, passing the locals at their community aerobics and intending to pick out treats from various vendors of the riverside night market. But we ended up stopping at the first place that we came to, which had fresh roses and ambiance from candles placed in the bottom of old water bottles set on the plastic tables. Dinner was lovely—Martha enjoyed the local specialty of laap salad with sticky rice; Dani had meat with a chili and basil sauce. We sat near a table of Japanese ladies who were enjoying the Japanese-language skills of the one of the local guys.

After we left, we dropped by the hotel to grab the computer, but made it to the Wi-Fi café that we’d identified earlier in the day just as it was closing. So we opted to hit an Internet café to let the family know we were just fine and to check on some other items (including our bank account to make sure that the ATM we had visited earlier that did not work had not charged us for funds we did not receive). All was well, but Dani still took the extra step of writing our bank to let them know about the incident. We spent about 75 minutes each on the computers, which cost us all of 7,500 kip each (0.75 USD)! Back in the room, our bellies were once again rumbling and angry, so we relaxed in front of the television and eventually made it to sleep. Back on the road tomorrow!

Much love,

Martha and Dani

September 1 to 2—HaNoi: Home of Ho Chi Minh, No Place for Dogs, HaLong Bay, and the Return of the Duck Ladies

2007-09-13T09:30:00.000-03:00

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, starting 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’ Man 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 people 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 getting 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 everywhere, 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 of 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 coffee 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 that 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 from 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 moving 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. Along 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 zoomed forward and threatened the safety of smaller vehicles with his display of dangerous maneuvering.

At our rest-stop point, apparently the group that had been the impetus for the quick return home (a group with a too-soon plane ride back to Saigon that eventually got out to catch a taxi) had complained because of the careless driving that put all of us in danger. Boy did THAT do it for Darth Vador! He totally lost his cool, exclaiming that they could get a taxi if they wanted to, and when they left to do so, 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.

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 French 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

September 12--Back in Thailand to Udon Thani

2007-09-12T07:56:00.000-03:00

Dearest Family and Friends,

We have safely made our journey through Laos and back into Thailand, right on time after being stuck in Luang Prabang an extra night with flooding issues on the swirvy path South to the capital. The views along the Mekong River in Central Laos made it all okay, I assure you. We spent about 13 hours on the road yesterday, however, making it all the way through Laos to Vientiane, through the Thai border, and down by train to Udon Thani, Thailand, where Martha's Dad was stationed during the Vietnam War.

It's great to be back in Thailand, which really feels like 'civilization' after the last several weeks of new encounters. We've been keeping up well with the writing and note taking, amazingly, and will be posting more from August asap. Please note that they will appear as August posts, so below the couple of notes from Hanoi and today. Look at the Archives list below and to the right to make sure you see the newest material.

Our love to you all ... we will be back in Bangkok in just a few days! Eight days before we return to Europe. :( ... :)

Martha and Dani

August 30 to 31—HaNoi, VietNam, the Loud and Hectic Capital City

2007-08-31T00:42:00.006-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Thursday, August 30, Dani awoke to the beautiful image of suburban towns across rice fields. Large cathedral steeples dominated the skyline. Our bus arrived in the capital city of HaNoi just at the 14-hour mark at 7:30 AM, as Martha was getting the cobwebs out of her eyes. We put our packs on, said ‘no thank you’ to the numerous hotel touts, and headed to the Hoan Kiem Lake area known for cheaper residences.

We were hunting for an Internet café. Since we had not stopped in the town of Hue as we’d expected, we had not yet done the research needed to find a decent place to stay, so we wanted to check TravelFish.org. This Web site had some more up-to-date reviews of places in VietNam than the two-year-old LP (much has changed in this part of the world since that volume was released). One of the touts stalked us on our walk, trying twice to get us to check out his guest house to no avail. Finally, we found an Internet café, only to see that TravelFish did not work so well at this location. We did find some reviews on a different site and chose to head towards Thanh Ha, a street North of the Lake and very near to the Don Xuay marketplace.

What a zoo! And I mean that literally, as the street of Thanh Ha was cluttered with vendors on the sidewalks. Their baskets contained live snakes, frogs in netting so they could not hop away, squid, ink fish, snails, grubs, prawns, and every imaginable part of pigs and chickens. Intermingled were the brilliant colors of the vegetable vendors with their multitude of greeneries—spicy basil, sweet basil, lettuce, cabbage, other leafy greens with names unknown to us, scallions, and green peppers—along with the oranges, reds, and yellows of the hotter peppers, tomatoes, yams, eggplants, and more. The ground was a bit slippery from all of the water and cutting of choice meat parts, but we managed our way through among the incessant beeping of the motorbikes that really didn’t belong on this alley.

We ended up in Room #301 of the Darling Backpacker’s Guest House for 10 USD per night, which got us a room with a decent bed, breakfast of baguette with jam and coffee in the mornings, balcony overlooking the market, a minifridge, hot shower, cable television that worked most of the time, WiFi in the room (NOT!), and the promise of an early morning’s rise as the beeping began and the market got into full swing. It was not a horrible place, but did have its drawbacks … the air con didn’t work too well and the room was full of ants, which, after our experience with the bugs along the lakeside in Phnom Penh, did not make for pleasant sleeping. But, at least we didn’t have the worst of the street noise since we were taller off the street. AND, at least we hadn’t ended up in a rat hole that charged us 80 USD a night, which we learned later was the fate of our Netherlands friends when they arrived in HaNoi.

Our initial intention was to sit in the room, blog all day in the air con and relax after the all night bus ride, but when the Internet didn’t work in the room, we decided to go ahead and take a walk to find some food. Keys to the cabinet in the room made our brains feel more comfortable with our first day in the big city as we were able to lock away our valuables.

After settling, we walked the city a bit. Martha found an ATM so that we had more than five dollars worth of Vietnamese money in our pockets. We wound through the alley-sized roads of the Old Quarter of HaNoi, and decided to compromise half-way between a street stall and a full restaurant with a small open-faced restaurant crowded with locals that had a large display of yummy-looking prepared foods. A nice waiter asked us in English what we wanted; Martha chose the BBQ pork and Dani selected fish with a side of garlic sautéed Chinese spinach. Yummy! Full, we continued our walk around the city, popped into a couple of souvenir shops and decided we did not want to shop anymore; Hoi An had just been too much of that!

Eventually, we were content to simply sit along the Hoan Kiem Lake to rest and enjoy the peace in the middle of the capital city. We explored the circumference of the lake before heading back towards the hotel. Along the way, we came to a busy intersection where each corner touted the fresh ‘bia hoi’ for 2,000 dong per glass (about 0.13 USD). Three of the four corners offered this option, and folks sat on plastic chairs or stools to watch the traffic and the other farangs across the street. We selected the corner closest to our place, where we passed the afternoon enjoying the company of Alex from Canada and Jek from Indonesia. Alex had been on a biking adventure from HaNoi to SaiGon, flying back North when the bike ride was completed. He’d picked up some of the local lingo, moreso than we had, and amused himself by haggling with the many vendors who repetitively approached us to try to sell us a hat or book. At one point, when a man approached for the fourth time, Alex offered him the rind of his mango with a curt, “Do you want this? Well, I don’t want your stuff, either.” He was a bit brash for us. Jek, on the other hand, was lovely. He was in HaNoi to see his Spanish girlfriend, whom he had met during their time working Search and Rescue after the Tsunami. He encouraged us to visit Indonesia sometime, as he believes the tumultuous relations among the peoples there are slowly improving. In the meantime, he was off to a party with his lovely Spanish lady!

Back to the hotel for a quick shower, we were soon off to dinner. Martha enjoyed flat noodles with beef and greens, and Dani had crispy fried noodles with beef and greens. The restaurant was unlike any you would see in the United States, as it comprised plastic chairs and tables set in the street, surrounded by motorcycles, bikes, and pedestrians, either parked along with us or continuing past the avenue of the every-day impromptu restaurant. In fact, the next day when we walked by, the tables were gone and only the cooking area was still active, working to prep for the next night’s mealtime. After paying, we returned with our leftovers to the hotel, where Martha jumped online in the hotel lobby to update the parents and other family with a simple note that we were in HaNoi; Dani climbed the three flights to our room to put our dish in the fridge.

A bit tired, but invigorated, we briskly walked through the streets to make it to the Water Puppetry show by 9:15 PM. This art form has been around more than 1,000 years, and originated in the watery rice fields of the VietNam peoples. It was neat to imagine the canopied stage set in the rice fields in days of yore instead of a water-logged inside enclosure of an old theater filled with foreigners. The performance started with one high-pitched song by the five person band—a singer, drummer, flute player, stringed zither, and cymbals on the end of ribbed sticks that were played when another stick was rubbed against the ribs to shake the far end.

Then, the puppets came out to entertain us with scenes of rural life: flaming dragons (how did they keep the fire lit while under water?), fishing, ploughing the fields with water buffalo, and a funeral scene. One scenario told us the legend of a turtle that delivered a sword to an early Emperor, who conquered and brought peace to VietNam (and then the turtle took the sword back to the lake where it lies today). Dani wished we had paid the extra several thousand dong for first-class seating to sit closer since the views were not well staged (heads were often in the way). Martha was kind enough to move one seat over and have a lesser view when the woman in front of Dani completely blocked hers. But in all, it was a fun evening’s theatrical enjoyment for 20,000 dong (1.33 USD) each!

Friday, August 31, our day began predictably with the 'sweet' sounds of horns beeping by 6:00 AM. We fitfully attempted to continue sleeping and to let the continuous melody become part of our dreams, but were unfruitful. We decided instead to get up and begin our day of relaxation in HaNoi. We read our books, but then were motivated to go downstairs by the thought of breakfast. Coffee and a fresh, fresh baguette with jam and butter filled in the empty spots for the time being!

In the early afternoon, we motivated to learn about the peoples of VietNam at the Museum of Ethnology. Walking past the baskets of squirming vendor wares, we turned right off of Thanh Ha towards the large building of the marketplace, where we picked up a couple of cyclos to carry us the 5 KM to the museum. The man first wanted 40,000 dong (2.30 USD) for the trip for both of us on two motorbikes, but after making sure they understood the location, it was upped to 50,000 dong, which put a sour taste in Martha’s mouth, so she walked away. They followed us and dropped the price to 30,000 dong. We grudgingly agreed and hopped on the back of the bikes, holding on with one hand to the ‘oh snap!’ steel bar on the backside of the vehicle. We then had another little ‘I almost died in SE Asia’ moment when a bike was directly in the middle of our traffic lane, stopped, but somehow obscured and then WHAMMO—right there. Of course, it was surely more scary to us than it should have been (we were only going about 5 mph, after all!), but we considered the good drivers our heroes as Dani’s bike could have plowed into Martha’s and into the one ahead. But all was well.

When we arrived to the stark white building of the grandiose Museum of Ethnology, the driver asked if we might consider 40,000 dong after seeing how far the ride was, and we conceded that it was not too much to ask for the distance covered. Normally, this might have been perturbing, but they had just saved our lives! What could we do?? Several hours passed as we walked the two levels of this interesting building with its circular display design. It presented photo flashes of the lives of the 54 distinct tribal groups that make up the whole of VietNam, which we reckon is home to about 85 million people. The exhibits varied from:
• shadow box windows with a single mask, pipe, or knife;
• to large windows showing vintage garb with the distinct woven patterns so expertly created by the tribes women, instruments for ritual and entertainment, children’s toys, retired water puppets;
• to video showing the funeral ceremonies, shamanistic rites, gatherings for other religious purposes (that sometimes looked like opportunities for the ‘ladies’ or the ‘gents’ of the town to get together for a roaring good time of community building—reminds Martha of the Episcopalian way), fishing, hat-making, weaving, screening techniques for artistic renderings on cloth (like how pre-modern t-shirts were made by hand), and other trade tasks of the different peoples;
• to a particularly interesting and honest description of the failings of the 1980s’ culmination of the Bau Co (??not positive of the name??) era after the American War (again, likely known to you as the VietNam War, but not so here) when the communists were in control.

The Bau Co era could be likened to the Great Depression or the tight times in America during the World Wars. The times were marked by food stamps for moldy rice, all food rationed in amounts dependent on rank and professional status, separate lines for the poor and the rich, very close family bonds, brilliant ingenuity, making do with what one had, and an invigoration of the continuous human quality of wanting better for the next generation. People were given enough fabric each year for one pair of trousers, so when the knees wore out partway through the year, the legs were cut off and sewn back on, twisted around so the former knees were in the back. They often lived in cramped homes with their livestock. If a person’s job was to travel to Russia, they would return with a TV, radio, and coveted fragrant bars of soap.

This new perspective on recent Vietnames history made Dani think back to the day before; we have taken to giving the hotel soaps, shampoo, and toothbrushes to the beggars who approach us (we don’t like to encourage begging, but also don’t want to not give them anything). One woman seemed extremely pleased with her soap, and Dani now wonders how deeply this woman had experienced the Bau Co era. What surprised Martha most was that this hardship was so recent for these people, but it certainly explained some of Dr. Tung’s rhetoric in Nha Trang about many people wishing to open up the market for new opportunities and Spider’s description at My Son of the Vietnamese not wanting to look at the past but instead to today and tomorrow.

Of course, Martha also thoroughly enjoyed the video describing the activities of the difficulties faced by the artists in those stifling days. She will have to hunt down one poem in particular, called “Remembering Uncle Ho in Spring,” (by Pham Thi Xuan Kha) printed in one of the newspapers and causing quite a stir. It was one of those historical moments in dark times when the floodgates open and ideas, depressions, emotions, hopes, reality are spoken about again. It was one of many brave moments when the people opened their voices to seek for the better, resulting eventually in the comfortable days of today.

We were particularly impressed, as we were during the S-21 and Killing Fields experiences, at the critical analysis of the events and the honesty in telling what happened so that others might learn from the approach of the communists as they tried to equalize society. Today's mix of communism, socialism, and open market towards capitalism seems to be working well for the country, but we were impressed to learn that the top earners are only taxed 10 percent of their pay (which is dispersed among the poorest) and not nearly the 30 percent or more that Americans face to fund our current day war-making machine of a government. (Sorry for the editorial commentary, Martha really does try to keep it out of here, but sometimes one cannot depend on total finger control.) Still, we do see many people begging for money (including a well-dressed elderly gentleman who simply seemed to think the farangs might fork over some cash if he asked for it). The government's system seems to fail elsewhere, as well, as there still exists a need for crime in this country, as we would experience in a couple of days.

We exited the building to wander the open-air displays of traditional homes that have been transported from hill-country tribes to the museum in the last five years. We stopped first to gulp down a bottle of water in the afternoon heat, slowing down as we walked through the last few displays. Upon leaving the museum, the price requested by the cycle driver was initially 60,000 dong (less than 4 USD), but when we told him that we’d arrived for 40,000, he agreed to take us for that amount, so we both hopped on his bike! Weeeeee. Martha sat in the middle, and Dani was grateful that she couldn’t see much of what was going on. We arrived safely to the market area we called home for a few days and wandered slowly until we found a woman sitting around a large pot of soup and five plastic tables filled with happy-looking locals. That’s enough of a recommendation for us! We paid 5,000 dong each (0.33 USD) and were handed large bowls of noodle soup with chicken and beef meatballs and scallions and mint!

Tired, we relaxed at the hotel once again, blogging and reading until the heat outside had died down a bit. We eventually went out to dinner, walking down the road at a time much later than the locals must usually eat. We grabbed a table on a corner where four other groups of folks were finishing up, were handed a menu that had English translation at the back (thank goodness or we may have ordered the frog, snails, or ox scrotum). As we waited for our meals to arrive, we practiced the basic words for the foods so that we might recognize them on other menus that did not have translations. Martha’s water buffalo was tender and wrapped in a green leaf, while Dani’s plate of goat was not as good as the Jamaican goat curry she had in Toronto earlier in 2007, but was still tasty. We were the last table to leave, stopping in the lobby at Darling to post a fortuitously-timed announcement on the blog that we had reached HaNoi!

In love and light, and many thanksgivings for our continued safe journey through VietNam,

Martha and Dani

August 28 to 29—Tailor Day, My Son Ruins, and Leaving Hoi An, VietNam

2007-08-31T00:42:00.003-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Tuesday, August 28, through Wednesday, August 29, were a blur of tailor shop fitting visits and posting our purchases to go home (almost 10 kilograms for less than 50 USD), with a mixture of exploration and time with the Dutch ladies! Dani awoke suddenly at 8:10 AM on Tuesday after Martha forgot to turn on the alarm clock the night before so that we could easily have a fruit shake before our 8:00 AM scheduled pick-up to tour the ancient My Son ruins! DOH! Thankfully, the bus was late, so we were able to throw together clothes, shoes, contact lenses, and hats in 10 minutes and still make the bus! Whew! The bus drove around to the other guesthouses around town, and finally headed north into the countryside for approximately 40 minutes to reach the tourist site.

Our tour guide, Spider, named the forty of us ‘Spider Group’ for easy collection. We crossed a bridge and were tunneled up the hill by minibus or by Marine Corp-issue “For Official Use Only” green jeeps. Hey, it’s been thirty years and our equipment still works on a daily basis! Up about 2 KM, we learned some about the history of the My Son ruins, including how they used to look before the Viet Cong took up residence in the former-Champa temple and the American bombers made a mess of things, leaving behind a large bomb blast hole that is marked on the site’s maps. Martha spoke with Spider along the path up to the ruins, admitting that it is saddening to learn that bombs from our country had damaged their heritage site. He calmed Martha's fears about the Vietnamese harboring resentment towards Americans, commenting that the place would never have been bombed if the Viet Cong had not housed up in there. VietNam, according to Spider (and seemingly more-so in the Southern parts of the country), is a present and future-only sort of mindset, putting the past behind them. It seemed true, too, because we felt no animosity from the people here when they learned of our American heritage—we had been planning on telling people we were Canadian if necessary.

The sites open to the public had been restored at places and left untouched in others. The American bomb had made quite a crater, left overgrown, a spot that nature will eventually fill with time. The structures of the My Son ruins were actually the third manifestation of most of the buildings. The first and second manifestations (of wood and another short-term building block) had been replaced with brick. The Champa people were known as the brick artisans, creating images of their Hindu gods across layers of bricks mounted in rows. The bases of the structures were actually the parts restored, bricks piled and held together by cement instead of the tree-sap glue used successfully by previous generations. These buildings were used as ‘gates’ for different stages and types of ceremonies, from Hindu fertility rituals calling for the gods Vishnu and Shiva to purification rites fueled by the waters of the clear river running nearby.

Walking the grounds by ourselves to take photos, we talked with others on the tour, discussing Angkor’s grandeur in comparison with the small scale and less-distinguished workmanship of these ruins, and likely talking one couple into making a trip to Siem Reap in the coming weeks. Back towards the bus, we decided to hike down the hill for more walking in our day, eventually hopping into the minivan about 200 meters from our end-point with the last of our group to avoid delaying their departure. We struck up a conversation with a couple from Australia, originally from England. She was a university teacher who traveled to SaiGon to work with students in a distance-learning English master’s program—not an easy task. Her retired husband met here there and they were enjoying their jaunt into VietNam for a couple of weeks. We ran into them again the next day at the post office and they admitted to deciding to stay in quaint Hoi An for the rest of their time in the country.

We had signed up for the bus-to and boat-from tour group, which cost us 2 USD more than the 3 USD option to go to and from by bus only. So we waited with a small group along the riverside for our boat to arrive. In the meantime, we marveled at the sand-laden boats floating swiftly down the high river, barely afloat for their burden, but afloat nonetheless! A Spanish girl sat down to take some time to write in her journal, and one of the local men squatted before her to watch as she wrote in her native tongue. We Westerners have a much greater sense of personal space than folks in SE Asia, we have found, and it was proved as this girl got up and stopped her writing time as soon as the gentleman was distracted from his place stooped at her feet.

On the boat, we slowly headed up stream as we ate plates of tofu with vegetable fried rice. We split an ice tea, which we paid extra for, and watched the boats either working to bring goods or to transport folks along this river community. Our one stop along the way was at a revered woodworkers’ village, which Martha’s parents would have loved because they collect word carvings. We got to witness the carvers at work on the floor, tools displayed in personal formation to their immediate left or right hand, digging into the wood to make happy Buddha to lighten moods around the world. At different stages of the process, one worker would make deep trenches in the wood to get down to be able to add detail. Others would make small chips in the wood to smooth out a Buddha belly or cheek. Expert carpenters were everywhere, working by hand or guiding power tools to make large window decorations or elephant- or dragon-adorned hangers for the women's tapestries. (Dani and Martha loved being in the workshop, with the smells of different types of wood being worked, and we are particularly fond of carpenters as we live between two of them at home.)

We returned to town early around 1:30 PM, even with all of the waiting for boats and such. We returned to the shower and to the tailor shop for 3:00 PM fitting. Dani worked hard on her clothes, pointing out what looked good and what needed adjusting—this is poofy, during the fitting I had asked for the sleeve length to be shorter, and maybe the skirt lining needs to be longer. “Oh, no, that’s the way it should be” was Dani’s girl’s response to all of her requests. “No, it’s not, please make it right,” was a too-commonly-needed phrase from Dani. Martha’s shirts needed to be taken in at the middle, but otherwise didn’t know any better to ask for adjustments along the lines of a suit, so Dani stepped in to help. Martha’s lady just calmly told her that they would take care of whatever she needed. We agreed to return at 7:00 PM after another walk through town. They would then hook us up with buttons and we would return at 8:30 PM that night to pick up the final products.

We went for a quick snack of another of Hoi An’s local dishes of fried wontons covered with fresh parsley and tomato salsa, where we chatted with a businessman named Peter from Munich, Germany, who was vacationing with his currently-absent wife and teenaged son. He kindly gave us his office phone number, just in case we needed a friend during our Oktoberfest adventure at the end of September. Such nice people, those Germans!

At 7:00 PM, we returned to the tailor’s shop and tried on our clothes once again, very happy with the adjustments that had been made and thankful for their hard work. At 8:30 PM, we made our final stop to the shop to get our new duds, quite happy. We asked for some of their business cards to pass on along the way and headed back to the room to drop off all of our new clothes. We finished the day walking the town some more, including another run through the locals’ market and through more of the small streets, able to now tell the seamstresses along the way that we were sorry, but we had already purchased our choices for this trip. Martha packed, and we watched some of From Dusk Til Dawn on HBO before heading to bed before our last morning in Hoi An.

Wednesday, August 29, we were up, packed, and out of the room after final e-mail checks before our 11:00 AM departure time. The front desk lady informed Dani that the post office would come to our hotel, package everything for us, and take it to be shipped for the same price! What service in this town! We decided, however, due to Dani’s paranoia, to take the box to the post office ourselves. We shipped the almost-10 kilogram box by Sea Freight and were sullenly informed it would take three to four months to be delivered to the states! PERFECT! SO WILL WE!

Dani quickly found us somewhere to get her fix and satiate her fruit shake shakes. AWe sat on the little plastic chairs at the little plastic table, enjoying another day's fruity refreshment. And we walked around town some more with our little time left in town, finding the Japanese bridge during daylight and enjoying a lunch of Malaysian fried rice (which had an egg on top and a chicken wing on the side) for Dani and some spicy lemongrass and chili fried rice for Martha at a local hole-in-the-wall.

We made it in plenty of time to catch our bus at 2:00 PM, headed North for Hue. We joyously arrived at 4:40 PM (much earlier than the five hours predicted on the schedule), so decided to just continue through that same night to HaNoi, the capital of VietNam, instead of exploring any of Hue. Hue’s cultural tours were said not to be very good during Martha’s research that morning, and the countryside was mostly littered with tombs of the dead from wars past and reminders of the heat of the fighting that took place here during the American War. You could also get tours to the DMZ (the ‘demilitarized zone’), but there was no guarantee it would be worth the money. More fun was certainly to be had in the capital city than here. So, we got on the next bus starting a bit after 5:30 PM, on the bus for 14 more hours.

Coincidentally (or perhaps not depending on what you think of such things), we saw the three Dutch Ladies walking the streets of Hue as our bus—and consider that we had been in town less than an hour—passed by their rain-soaked, obviously weary bodies. We banged on the window and waved our arms, trying to get their attention as the bus teased us, moving forward a bit so they might catch a view … if only they would look up. Finally, Saskia ‘Lady 38’ did look up from beneath her blue parka, only to wave a hand slightly. Well, maybe she would realize in a bit who our faces belonged to, anyway!

On the bus, we couldn’t even read as the lights went out and the overheads did not function. So, we enjoyed our typical pastime of staring out the window (of course, our new stress-less lives and personal histories of long car rides since youth have helped us develop a great contentment and joy from hours of landscape). Eventually, the rhythmic tones and beeping of the bus horn lulled us to a surprisingly comfortable sleep.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani

August 26 to 27—Hoi An Sunday Moon Festival, Fitting for Tailored Clothes, and Beach Day

2007-08-31T00:41:00.004-03:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Day 105, Sunday, August 26, was the day before the full moon, which means that the people of Hoi An have a fiesta! Dani was up early since she had napped the day before after our arrival from Nha Trang, while Martha slept in until 10:20 AM. We finally succumbed to our curiosity about the changes to our bodies in the past months, and went to the scale in the hallway next to the reception desk. This was the first time that we’d weighed ourselves since the gym in Bangkok, and had no idea what to expect, except that we could both see a change in how we looked and felt. Dani grabbed the calculator to ensure that the numbers were understood to our non-metric minds from the kilos listed on the scale—WOW! We have each reached our preliminary weight loss goals and spent the day feeling on top of the world!

We left the hotel room sometime around noon to drop laundry across the street for 7,000 dong per kilo. We had to go no further than to the corner for a great lunch of grilled beef and noodles, made to order with a peanut sauce and a couple of cut-up red bird-eye chili peppers for Martha. The woman of the stand cut the chili up for her with scissors right at our table. Add on a dragon fruit/banana shake for Dani and a citrus orange/lemon shake for Martha and our lunch total, totally filling, came to 20,000 dong each (1.35 USD)!

We walked back through old town, picking up some items for folks at home and looking at the old and new buildings. We passed the Catholic Church we’d noticed the day before and checked the mass schedule. Sunday evening mass was 4:00 PM, so we wandered back to take showers and get on most-presentable attire before joining the locals for their Christian celebration. The church was gorgeous and large, with white walls, stained glass windows, large open doors running along the side walls allowing ventilation, and a crucifix atop a simple altar where Jesus’ halo shone in white neon. (The image here is not of the haloed Jesus, but of a traditional Vietnamese diety from one of the local temples.)

The service was almost entirely in Vietnamese, with a couple of moments in English or French to introduce the passing of the collection plate and the other to introduce the peace, which was a quick exchange of bows between neighbors. We could follow just a little bit of the service otherwise, and were impressed with how much of it was sung instead of spoken, predominantly by a talented choir housed in the rafters in the back of the church. In the middle of the service, Martha glanced over to see Dani’s face contorting as she realized that the sides of the church were segregated, and we were on the guys’ side!! We almost always sit on the right side of the church at home! Thankfully, we settled as we noticed one man on the left side of the church and three other women seated with their boyfriends on the right hand side in the plain wooden pews (not kind on the knees while kneeling, mind you).

The service ran about an hour and it was time for the fiesta to begin! We headed back to the waterfront as locals and tourists passed on motorbikes, bicycles, and foot to experience the celebration as the full moon approached the next night. We stopped for coffee in a park with a merry-go-round running and were offered wonderful local green tea along with it. Wandering through the old town, all of the stores were open and those that we had not seen specializing, or even selling lanterns during the day had them available for sale in their shops. We turned left where many times before we’d turned right, and found ourselves at the Japanese Covered Bridge that Dani had been anxious to see. Quite lovely by lantern light under an almost-full moon. The shops on the other side seemed all about art with just a few standard souvenir shops smattered between.

On this night, the shops had small tables present along the sidewalks, covered with offerings to the gods of dragon fruit, banana, fake money, water, tea, cigarettes, candles, and burning incense. We reached the end of the road and turned left to wander back along the river once more. We returned to where the crowd had gathered, standing along the bridge or seated in the benches along the river front. We sat on the ground, on the banks of the river with our feet dangling towards the water, to watch the festival.

Anyone who owned a boat was rowing along the riverbanks offering a 30-minute ride. Families loaded the seagoing vessels of wood and dropped small paper boats with candles into the river to drift past the bridge into the ocean beyond. Some paper boats fell over in the waves or were knocked by fish to burn and sink. Others were knocked under by youth throwing small rocks from the sidelines. We watched and snapped difficult-to-decipher pictures, listening to the joyous melodies of an unknown stage presentation going on behind us among a different crowd. We finally pulled ourselves away to step into a nearby restaurant for dinner overlooking the river.

Dani ordered the Cau Loa from the Hoi An specialty menu (a noodle concoction with thin hard croutons and meat) and then spinach and garlic for dinner, and Martha ordered the vegetarian steamed fresh spring rolls. We headed back to the crowd still admiring the lovely paper boats being set adrift.

Just about to hit the far edge of the bridge, we found ourselves facing the three lovely ladies from Holland—Manon, Saskia, and Marjan—that we had met on the bus and seen once that day already! What great luck! We decided to go for a quick beer, choosing to return to the other side of the river where the candle boats were best viewed. Hours commenced filled with laughter and easy storytelling as among old friends. Dani and Martha also had a chance to see Ly, the young woman whom we taught Yahtzee the night before (also pictured below, left). We left the Dutch Ladies close to midnight—leaving them just four hours of sleep before their 4:00 AM trip to the My Son ruins to catch the sunrise—after tremendously enjoying their company, and secretly hope to run into them again soon. Seems easy to run into people you want to see here in VietNam!

Monday, August 27, we reached the three-months-left-mark of our journey! Dani awoke sometime before 8:00 AM and spent some time on the computer reviewing Martha’s writings and sending notes out to loved ones while Martha lounged in bed until sometime after 9:00 AM. We left the room well before noon to head over to the Giogio's Tailor shop on Hai Ba Trung Street, which after much hemming and hawing we had decided to try for our new clothes.

We smiled as the ladies in the tailor shop worked with us to figure out what we wanted to order, and Martha welcomed their help since she is pretty fashion-stupid. The women steered us towards a particular type of suit, probably their routine specialty, but seemingly with nice lines. And we spent some time among the many options of fabrics for suits, shirts, a skirt, and a winter jacket. We worked out pay arrangements, but needed to go to the bank before we could make any down-payment even, and were told our resource was just up the street five minutes. Twenty minutes later, we had been enjoying the scenery of a nice long walk. We returned and asked someone where the bank was—just across the street, of course. We decided to pay for the bill with our credit card even though we had cashed some traveler’s checks, preferring to hold onto the cash for now.

Once we had our financials settled after a few steps of moving money about and hiding dollar bills, y’all, in safe and separate places, we took a nice long walk out to Cau Dai beach. It was a 5 KM each way jaunt, and we stopped along the way for lunch— spring rolls with noodles and veggies for Dani and macaroni with fresh veggies and a bit of red sauce for Martha. “No, thank you, we don’t want a moto,” became our catch phrase, with a mental note that we’ve reached our first weight loss goals and want to keep going!

The beachfront was extremely lovely. The water was warm, and we were able to walk out a few hundred feet before the water became more than waist-deep. The waves did not crash and knock you over. The South China Sea … so calm and pacific. And, as in Nha Trang, even when the water was up to our necks, we could still count our tows. From our chosen swim ground, we could see one of the many women who walked the beach with her baskets of common items from soap and Q-tips to hair holders and toys for fussy kids. When the woman sat near our things, Martha commented that she hoped the woman was not waiting for us to get out, as it would be a while. But, she was, and mentioned her hour-long wait for us to get out of the water as we apologized and informed her that we routinely do not bring money with us to the beach. We sat along the shore and remained content with the grand activities of the day as we watched the sun set. We threw clothes over our bathing suits and walked back into town, much less harassed by tuk-tuk drivers as by women wanting to sell us water as we sweated under the full moon.

Back in town, we walked down new streets and came across more of that yummy grilled beef noodle concoction with fruit shakes for 18,000 dong (about 2 USD). Too full, we walked the evening streets, almost getting out of town into the rice fields before turning around towards the hotel. The moon was invigorating, and presented an amazing aura, a ring around it that spanned a greater space than my camera could capture, taking up most of a quarter of the night’s sky.

In love and light,

Martha and Dani