Streetfighter 3

The great thing about being in South East Asia is that amazing things can happen without any warning or precedent. This morning, for example, we were having breakfast at a table on the sidewalk, when a commotion took our interest. Whirling down the street at relatively low speed was a fighting trio made up of one man and two women (both of whom were in what looked like pajamas). The floral woman had the woman in green by the shirt while simultaneously pummeling the man with her other hand. The man was trying to stiff arm the floral woman while sort of protecting the woman in green, all with a completely impassive face. The floral woman was shouting and occasionally brandishing a motorbike helmet which she used to strike the man on the top of the head.

The trio was in the middle of the small side street where we were dining, not more than 15 feet away, and for more than twenty minutes their domestic dispute continued. A crowd gathered to watch, with absolutely no intention of interfering. One helpful spectator explained to us that the floral woman was the man's wife, with many small children, while the woman in green was his girlfriend (or possibly second wife). If two men or two women were fighting, he related, then people would break it up, but since this was a family issue, no one would get involved. An older woman in polka dots approached and did get involved - the mother-in-law. She promptly hit the man over the head with open palms and then bit him on the forearm. Things were escalating and the crowd was growing. Tourists were snapping photos, shop owners running down the street to get a better look. Finally, the whirling domestic dispute crashed into a parked motorbike, knocking it over and threatening to topple a couple of tables. The street fighters moved out to the main street, causing a traffic jam and a chorus of loud honking. We returned to our noodle soup to finish our breakfast and wonder how the guy was going to get out of this one. Without much commotion or any police involvement, the fight was over and the disappointed crowds returned to their morning routines.

Environmental Proselytizing

On the beautiful island of Phu Quoc, we signed up for a snorkeling trip. On this snorkeling trip we stopped at three small islands to snorkel around the coral. Phu Quoc's snorkeling is reported to be some of the best in the world and we were very excited. Here is where it gets ugly; of the three stops, only one of them had coral that was still alive and it was also dying. The boat we were in anchored on the coral itself, never mentioned to anyone "don't touch or stand on the coral". We also all fished off the boat and caught tiny fish which were not thrown back. I don't know what happened to them but they were clearly not full grown.

A guy who worked at our hotel came to our porch after we came back to talk to us. He said that he used to lead snorkeling trips where he was careful to not anchor on coral, he never took his boat fishing for small fish and always explained to people not to disturb anything while snorkeling. He said 90% of the coral around Phu Quoc was dead (I am always sceptical and this guy seemed a little off so who knows about the numbers) and that he was put out of business, in fact he was verbally threatened by the tourist mafia that runs the island. I could certainly see there being a mafia of that kind here.

I say all this to share what we've learned with other potential travelers. One of the best thing anyone can do for the environment when traveling is to use companies that act responsibly, unlike the one we ended up participating in. This is not easily done in places like Vietnam and may require more research beforehand. Spending an afternoon swimming around looking at dead coral is a very depressing and consciousness raising sight.

Motorbikin' Phu Quoc: Not a Cake Walk

After an overnight bus ride in which the driver, and perhaps everyone else (?) watched a Vietnamese stand-up comedy duo the whole 7 hours, we pulled up to the ferry which was to wisk us off to our final beach chapter of our travels on Phu Quoc island.

We stayed at a little resort right on a quiet beach. It was serene and amazing. The water - clear and calm and perfect for lazy swimming. Hammocks and yes . . . long walks on the beach were in order for the first day. Then it was time for adventure.

We rented motorbikes for our second day to make the long trip around the island. The road into our little beach area was under construction and exsisted only as a incomplete dirt road but the one into town, though busy, was paved. We made our way through the busy streets of town quite compitently (even with the school children all bicycling home at noon) and then hit a dirt, though still smoothish, road. There was a little hesitation, but we ventured on, not caring that our clothes would be caked in dust. We were having a day of island adventure! The further we got from town, the fewer other motorbikes we saw and the worse the road conditions became. Soon the "road" dissolved into what were essentially a series of steep, sandy, dried out riverbed gullies with makeshift stick bridges at the bottom. The water had created all sorts of "thrilling" obsticles to weave around and basically gun-it over in the hopes that you make it successfully to the other side. The first one was sort of funny/rediculous, the second more of a personal challenge, by the third we were pretty exhausted by the focus it takes to get through these damn things and by the forth, Kyle tipped and began to have technical difficulties. The next series of dips took us in a detour around what was a totally insane and washed out former "road." The detour was only slightly more passable. Our mouths hung open as we looked at what could have been, and then at what was.

To be honest, things began looking a little bleak at this point. We were 30km from anywhere, Kyle's bike wouldn't start, Kate had tipped over when she looked back and saw Kyle tipped over and both were a little shaken. Oh, and it was HOT. And storm clouds had been threatening for the better part of an hour. After giving the bikes (and ourselves) some time to cool down, and watching a couple of seasoned motorbike veterans with old ladies on the bike tackle the next arroyo, Kyle's bike miraculously started again. We were back on our way.

The road began to improve (no more dry riverbeds from hell) and we made it to a town. Actually, it was three buildings and a beach, but we drank a warm 7 up and were poked by the local children long enough to decide we could finish our loop. 15 kilometers down the road, in what looked to be the absolute middle of no where, a man on crutches with one leg emerged from the dense jungle and waved us down. Kate thoughtfully offered for Kyle to give him a ride to the next town, where he apparently had an appointment for coffee. After depositing him at his destination and declining his kind invitation for a drink, we continued on our way, smiling a little more.

We made it back to the main town, Duong Don, and Kate's bike began stalling at intersections. This is a terrifying prospect in a land which follows NO road rules. We expertly navigated past a market, over a bridge, through the town, and we almost home, when Kate's bike comletely died about 50 meters from the hotel. She pushed it home and the hotel propreitor looked up from his hammock, apparently unsurprised by this turn of events. "No working? Yeah."

With broken bike returned, we went for a victory swim to rinse off the day's dust and grime before beginning cocktail hour. We toasted, from our hammocks, our survival and the end of our motorbike riding for a good long time.

Saigon Sojourn

Due to unforesenn visa complications and the nefarious actions of one very bad man in Mui Ne, we came to Saigon earlier than we expected to sort ourselves out. Since we're seasoned travelers with only 10 days of our trip remaining, we were unphased by this change of plans. We even enjoyed our overnight bus trip and the hour of early morning park sitting we experienced while waiting for a room to be ready. We are really getting the hang of this.

Speaking of parks, the Vietnamese are all about the communal open space, and Saigon is no exception. There are a fair number of lovely parks with huge, old trees and large numbers of people stretching and playing badminton in them. Swarming around these parks are 3 million (literally) motorbikes - even after 4 months of SE Asian travel, the site is astounding. Every street crossing is a life-affirming victory.

After fixing our visa issues for good with a not evil Saigonian, we embarked on a self-guided tour of the city, beginning with the Independence Palace. Rebuilt in the early 1960s, it is a tribute to the architectural excentricities of the time. The furniture is strait out of a Bond movie, particularly the corduroy chairs in the Official Gambling Room. There is a helipad on the roof, adjacent to the minibar and dance floor. The high-tech equipment is all in the basement, including a room full of type writers and an array of pastel rotary phones. Very impressive.

Looking at the darker side of the 1960s, we moved on to the War Remnants Museum. Although we of course knew what the American army did to Vietnam during the war, the museum was a powerful and disheartening reminder, particularly the section on the effects of Agent Orange. Children in the areas sprayed with the chemical are still being born with horrible birth defects, and military personell who handled the chemicals were also effected. Pretty graphic and scary images made us astounded by how nice and friendly the Vietnamese are to us American travelers.

Its really, really hot and we went to see a movie for the air conditioning. It was totally worth it.

Today we took the obligatory trip to the Cu Chi tunnels, for which we were forced to break our No Tour rule (or shell out an unreasonable amount of dong for a private driver). About 30 kilometers outside of Saigon, the Cu Chi villagers built a network of tunnels and bunkers that were more than 200 kilometers long. The Viet Cong used the tunnels during the American War to launch guerilla attacks, carry supplies around, and generally live in since the Americans were bombing the hell out of their villages. Going into the tunnels gave us a serious appreciation for the dedication of the Vietnamese people, and the tinyness of their bodies. The tunnels are 2 feet wide and 2 1/2 feet tall, swelteringly hot, and generally unbearble. We were in them for about 5 minutes, which was plenty. VC soldiers and civilians lived there for months at a time.

We're taking an overnight bus (just can't get enough) to the coast tonight in order to get to Phu Quoc Island, so we've been killing time this afternoon wandering around the alleys of our neighborhood. We happened upon a haircutting shop, and since Kyle's hair was both way too long and pretty dirty, she got a haircut. Which came, inexplicably, with a face massage. Its a nice way to get clean when you don't have a hotel room, though its a little odd to have your hair blowdried and looking fabulous when, from the neck down, you are a filthy slob.

Biking with Vihnny

Taking motorized transportation is so 20th century. In this age of green living, conscientious 20 somethings like us get there using the most renewable of resources: human power. Ok, there was a van lurking behind us the entire 160 kilometer trip, probably burning more gas than the bus, and it was mostly down hill, but still. We are Portlanders, and we miss our bicycles, and so we decided to bike it from Dalat to Mui Ne, cost be damned.

We started out bright and early with a short but harrowing ride out of the city and into the beautiful rolling hills of flower farms that surround Dalat. Our guide Vihn (or Vihnny, if you're from Jersey) was nice, polite, and shy, and dutifully showed us the tourist spots along the way. We stopped at the rice hooch making shop (very strong), the silk making factory (very mechanical), and Elephant Waterfall (very liquidy). Then we hit the sweet part of the day - an enormous downhill on windy roads with fantastic views of the hills and valley. What goes down must, even from the mountains to the coast, go up, and we had a significant climb before lunch. We inhaled a pile of bread, cheese, and veggies while the rainclouds approached, and waited out 2 hours of massive storm. Then we got back on the bikes for the last 30 kilometers of the day.

The best thing about bicycling in rural areas is definitely the Stare Down. The further from major cities you get, the better the Stare Down becomes. The very old and the very young are the best practitioners of the Stare Down, but it can be effectively executed by almost anyone. The Stare Down is total, unabashed, full faced staring at us that cannot be deterred by any amount of reciprocal eye contact, smiling, waving, or greeting. There are two prominent forms that the Stare Down can take, the first being the Cross the Street Stare Down. The Starer (usually elderly) spots us about a block away, and begins to stare. While maintaining eye contact, he or she crosses the street in front of us, sometimes necessitating a brake or swerve from oncoming traffic. Once safely across the street, presumably at a better staring vantage point, the Starer continues the stare. The second and most unnerving case is the Moto Approach Stare. A family on a moto approaches us on the left as we're riding, and intends to pass us. However, upon seeing that we are Stare-worthy, the moto pulls along side and maintains our speed to get a good look. The child in the front and the one hanging onto the back generally employ the Open-Mouthed Stare, sometimes accompanied by the Point. The adults, both driver and passenger, silently and unwaveringly practice the classic Stare. This move can go on for upwards of a kilometer, and is sometimes finished with an audible laugh before they finally complete their pass. It makes us feel connected to the local people.

After many staring encounters, we spent the night in Di Linh, a little town of mostly farmers. Exhausted by our day, we ate early and went to bed. At breakfast the next morning, Kyle turned to Kate with an audible, "Oh, no." She had just rubbed her eye with the hand she had recently used to spread chili seeds on her baguette. A comical few minutes of running around the courtyard (didn't help), splashing water on her eye (made things worse), running blindly across the road, and generally freaking out in the hotel room resulted in Kyle being down one contact and swollen-eyed for the second day of riding. Off to a not so auspicious start, we began the ride with a few kilometers of rolling hills and then a seriously steep 5 kilometer climb. Luckily, the scenery made up for the heat and incline, and we had lunch on the ridge of the mountain with puppies and pigs all around. The best part of the day was the 11 kilometer downhill, accompanied by amazing views (that were luckily on the non-chili-afflicted side). As we descended, the heat of the lowlands was like opening the oven door to check on your delicious batch of cookies, except without the promise of baked goods. It was seriously hot. We finished with a really, really, really hot 25 kilometers of flat ride. We were tired and sweaty but certainly victorious as we found a hotel in Mui Ne and bid Vinnhy a fond farewell.

Dalatful

Dalat is the honeymoon capital of Vietnam - which is kind of surprising when you first roll into town. At first glance, this is a hilly city that seems to have grown up in the last 20 years, with newly constructed houses and storefronts more from the utilitarian than picturesque school of design. But Dalat is surrounded by beautiful countryside and claims a central lake and golf course, as well as some swanky hotels we have not been inside. Many tourists get a motorcycle guide to see the temples and waterfalls of the surrounding areas, but since we have sworn off tours, we are officially charting our own course.

On day one in Dalat, we embarked on foot for Crazy House. This house/hotel/tourist attraction/architectural wonder lives up to its name. Think Gaudi meets Dali paintings with sequins and a little bit of the Flintstones thrown in for good measure. There are staircases that lead to no where. There are cubby holes with tiny tables and strangely configured windows. The bedrooms have animal shaped fireplaces and mirrors on the ceilings above the beds. There is a giraffe entangled in one stairway, and half of the building is still under construction. Basically, one climbs around the house and exclaims, "This place is crazy!" And if you're planning a trip, you can stay in one of the animal-themed rooms. It was like nothing we've yet seen on this trip.

The next day we decided to climb a nearby mountain for what was described as a "nice three hour hike." We hired some moto drivers to take us out to the park, and began our climb on a steep paved road, while jeeps and other motos whizzed by. Kyle was a little disappointed in the asphaltyness of the hike, until we turned onto the trail that lead to the peak - only 3 kilometers away. We can do this, we thought, despite the massive uphill we'd already conquered. The trail had a slight incline and lovely views, and we joked about the far-off mountain we were happy to not be climbing. Think again, ladies, as that indeed was our destination. It soon became apparent that this would not be as easy as we had anticipated, but we remained in good spirits until the final 500 meters of pretty much vertical climb. We were determined to beat the mountain, but this was not what we had intended. We huffed and puffed and swore and took many breaks. And then we finally reached the top, sweaty and out of breath, only to encounter 25 Vietnamese teenagers. They were having a picnic, complete with portable stove and wok full of noodles. As expected, they giggled, practiced their English phrases, and took many pictures with us that prominently featured the peace sign. Our pride was a little bruised, but we were still happy to enjoy the incredible panoramic view of the valley and Dalat. And to be going downhill for the second half of the hike.

Day three in Dalat we decided to explore the town on 2 wheels and one vehicle - a tandem bicycle. Neither of us had ever ridden a bicycle built for two, but we figured we could easily ride it in traffic the hilly 6 kilometers to a nearby lake. After our initial attempts at starting, we scaled back our plans to just bike around Dalat's central lake. On the sidewalk. We spent the better part of the day wobbling around and around the lake while making beeping noises at oblivious pedestrians. Starting and stopping were difficult, and hills were unfathomable. We pretty much got the hang of it, but switching steerers set us back. By the end of the day, we could safely navigate even the narrowest side walks. We have really picked up a lot of new skills on this trip.

Tomorrow, we leave for the coast on a 2 day mountain bike adventure. Its a lot of kilometers, but we're convinced they're mostly down hill. At least we'll each have our own ride.

Overnight bus but the beach is worth it

Departing lovely Hoi An, we boarded the trusty overnight bus and settled in for a bumpy and mostly sleepless night. Six in the morning found us pulling into Nah Trang, a biggish city with a beautiful beach at dawn.

Nah Trang was not on our list of cities to visit, as its large and fairly developed beachfront just looked a little too much for us, but we figured getting on another 5 hour bus ride after an overnight ride was just too cruel. What with our upcoming visa extension, we figured we had time for an extra day here in Nah Trang. Thank goodness we did!

Nah Trang is actually quite a lovely city - big and bustling but clean and has a great beach. The only other big city with beachfront we have seen was Kuta in Bali which was extremely polluted, crawling with tacky tourists and gross chain restaurants. Nah Trang is a big city but doesn't seem to have too much overwhelming tourism and what it does have, like the parasailing, windsurfing, sailing and scuba diving, seems to help keep this waterfront and beach lively, well used and clean!!

We spent the afternoon at a hot springs resort about 10 minutes outside of town. There was a 7 step regiment for optimal health benefits from this mud bath/mineral soak wonderland. We were ushered into a tub with a Vietnamese couple which was full of cool liquid mud the consistency of a chocolate shake. A somewhat awkward 15 minute soak in this small muddy bathtub with another couple involved all of us pouring pails of mud over our arms, chests, and backs. Most local people were in shorts and tank tops and we quickly figured out why. The mud got well trapped in our suits, especially between the layers of the lining and the outside, and made us both a muddy, saggy, bloated mess! In this goopy state, we were instructed to sit in the sun for 10 minutes before rinsing. The ground and rocks were so hot from the super-charged sun we were forced to hop from foot to foot to not burn our feet. Quite a sight.

After a thorough mineral shower rinse, we were hustled into a 3 foot wide channel of rocks which sprayed water at you from all sides - imagine car wash meets leaky dam. After the pressure wash, we were pointed towards larger mineral hot tubs to soak with more strangers. After that, on to the big, but still hot, soaking pool. Keep in mind that it's a good 85-90 degrees out so at this point, we were not only pretty pruney but quite thoroughly cooked. We cut short our 7 steps to mineral-induced health and headed home feeling silky smooth with just a few pockets of mud in our ears.