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.