The Good Land

I spent four days in the beach town of Nha Trang, Vietnam. Nha Trang looks and feels a lot like Hawaii, with beautiful sunrises and coconut trees. It was a great place to recover from the previous few weeks of touring war zones in 100-degree heat, going to the hospital, and playing Motorbike Frogger.

I woke up yesterday feeling quite happy. I had spent the prior night dancing the night away at a beach party with other tourists. My $10/night "mid range" hotel room had a private rooftop balcony overlooking the ocean, and I was headed out to my fourth day at the beach - another day consisting of lounging under a cabana, reading pirated books purchased for $1 each, and drinking fruit cocktails.

After enjoying a final day in tropical paradise before getting back to real travel, I headed to the train station to catch my "Sleeper Train" to Saigon. Well, at least I had thought it was a sleeper train when I purchased my ticket.

Sleeper Trains are popular with backpackers - they are cheap and more comfy than a bus, and usually a great way to meet other travelers to hang out with in the next city. They have tickets divided into two categories: "Soft Beds" and "Hard Beds." Soft Beds usually feature four beds on two bunks, and a door that locks. Hard Beds aren't actually hard (they have a mattress), but they cram about 60 beds into a single train-car, stacked three on top of each other - obviously less comfortable/private than Soft Beds, but manageable with ear plugs (so I learned in China).

I learned upon arriving at the station that my train was 5 hours delayed. The train station in Nha Trang was hot and crowded and it was already shaping up to be a long night, so I approached the counter seeking to change my ticket. I tried communicate with the attendant while various fellow passengers were gently-but-persistently trying to oust me from the window while shoving their money in the attendant's face.

She swapped my delayed Soft Bed ticket with a "Hard - Air Conditioned" ticket on the earlier train, which was fine. But when I finally boarded the train, I learned that my new ticket was not a "Hard Bed," but a Hard Bench. Other passengers - babies to elderly - traveling south from northern cities were already sprawled out across the entire car - laying across benches, across the floor, across bags of fruit and grain piled up throughout the car, and across each other. My seat was next to the bathroom.

Fortunately my Bench Mates welcomed the lone foreigner and we managed to arrange ourselves so everyone could lie down without touching each other. I threw my sarong across the bench, strategically configured my camera bag so it was wound around the bench, my body and my arm, and then popped an Ambien.

Hardcore Traveler, at last! In honor of my new self-proclaimed status I had a beer tonight at a burger joint just down the street from my Saigon hotel: The Milwaukee Grill and Cafe. Owned by a Malaysian and staffed by several Vietnamese who all agree "Milwaukee is very beautiful!", the place just warmed my heart. No Miller Beer was available, but I felt a definite surge of Sconnie pride looking at the walls with enormous posters of the Vietnamese infatuation: The Motorbike that Rules All Motorbikes - Harley Davidson.

Holla!

DMZ

I'm not into war movies at all. I saw Deer Hunter, and that was plenty. I think watching people get blown up generally falls into the "un-enjoyable" category. But, after today, I probably will make it a point to check out all the various movies about the Vietnam War.

I visited the Demilitarized Zone, which is the area that divided Vietnam into North and South during the war, and the site of some of the worst battles of the war. The guidebook warns not to stray off the marked paths or touch any left over ordnance; as much as 20% of Vietnam is uncleared and there are still accidents. We drove over the Ben Hai river and through the countryside. I looked across what is now becoming a familiar site - green fields with rice paddies tended by farmers with conical hats and their ox... but this time I saw several circular-shaped pools - craters created by bombs.

The Vinh Moc Tunnels were quite the site and experience. There was a village that had the unfortunate destiny of being located just on the north end of the DMZ. The Viet Cong moved in and the town created elaborate underground tunnels to hide from the Americans. The tunnels went 15 meters deep, and even though I'm short I had to duck to walk through them. There was one "large" meeting room, about 2x7 meters, where the village had school, town meetings, and theater. The villagers lived underground for many years, and occasionally came out at night. There were 17 babies born underground, who are all in their forties today and frequently have reunions. The biggest fear of the villagers was the American "drilling bombs" which exploded twice, once at the surface, and then again underground. Outside of the tunnels, there were many casings and craters, as well as black soot.

One of the saddest sites was seeing the villages in the DMZ, which are incredibly poor. The homes looked as though they were hastily thrown together with whatever materials they could find. Since scrap still remains from the war, they aren't able to use that much of their land's resources. I also saw part of the Ho Chi Minh trail, which VC soldiers used to transport materials to the south, as well as the Rockpile and the Dakrong Bridge.

The heat here is insane. Everyone on my tour was grumbling about the 38 degree heat, and when I finally looked up the translation to Fahrenheit, I saw 38 lined up to about 100. It was agonizing just to step outside the air-conditioned bus for forty minutes in a tank top and shorts. I can't imagine wearing a uniform and fighting a battle. And because of the landscape and climate, many of Vietnamese who fled to the jungles died of malaria.

Finally, I visited Khe Sanh, which was an American military base and the site of the largest battle of the war. There were several U.S. aircraft on display, some of which were just pieces of old vessels that had been shot down. A few men roamed the area, hoping to sell VC and GI dog tags they've found in the bush. There was also a museum with a lot of pictures and weapons, and American, South Vietnam, and Viet Cong uniforms. I took a peak through the guestbook, and it seems as though Khe Sanh is a popular site for curious tourists all over the world, though my eye was particularly drawn to the American vets who come back to look at the place that had such a large impact on their lives, as well as Americans who came to see the sites where their loved ones lost their lives.

Vietnam is an extraordinary place to visit, because a major piece of history is so recent. The country is prosperous today, but continues to recover from war and it seems as though some of the sentiment between the North and South still remains, particularly with the older generation. Regarding perception of Americans, it's hard for me to tell. America is unpopular with the world right now, in general. I'd previously met a Brit who warned me that he saw a caption of a soldier in a museum that read "American Imperialist Dog." I also had an interaction with an older North Vietnamese woman: I was trying to negotiate the price on some cheap pearls, and when she found out I was American, she had a look in her eyes that immediately prompted me to just pay her asking price. But, I've been treated fantastic and everyone is really nice (though I'm mostly talking to Vietnamese in the tourism industry who want my money). Most of the displays I've seen showcase the support from all the Americans who protested the war. Tonight after my tour, I slurped down a cocktail at the DMZ Cafe called "The B-52."

And that, of course, is what also makes Vietnam extraordinary to visit. The history of Vietnam is also American history - and American present. The war was one of the defining - and dividing - events of our largest generation, and unfortunately I think it continues to influence the sharp divide in our country today and muddles the dialogue on current events. So, it was really good for me to be here and digest all this.

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Junk Boats and Motorbikes

I really don't know where the term "junk boat" came from, but I spent three days on one in Halong Bay, Vietnam and it was really magnificent.

Halong Bay is one of Vietnam's proudest locations, and for good reason. It is filled with thousands of limestone mountains and blue-green waters, and feels like some kind of magical fairyland. The mountains are part of the same range that extend up through China, and fortunately I lucked out with good weather this time.

The mini-tour was filled with many activities. We went swimming and jumped off the top of the boat, explored a cave inside one of the mountains, visited Monkey Beach (with some very playful monkeys who stole one tourist's bra), went bicycling and hiking through a village, and sea kayaked around a floating town. There was also plenty of downtime to relax on the sundeck and take advantage of the on-board bar.

And in complete contrast with Halong Bay, I also spent a few days in Hanoi - the capital of Vietnam. The city is buzzing with excitement and the sound of millions of motorbikes. (And capitalism!) I am staying in the Old Quarter, which is a maze of narrow streets with shops and street vendors. At first I couldn't figure out how to cross the street as there is no rhyme or reason to traffic. Eventually I got bored and resorted to shielding myself behind a mom and her baby as they crossed and all the motorbikes zoomed around us, somehow managing to not hit us or each other.

The city also has many historical treasures so it has been a great place to begin my trip. I saw a water puppet performance, which is a traditional Vietnamese art form originating in flooded villages during the rainy seasons. It was actually quite spectacular - it looked like the puppets were dancing on the water and I was surprised at how many ways their puppeteers behind screens could maneuver them. I also visited Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum and filed past his embalmed body with all the Vietnamese tourists, who are taught from a young age about all of Uncle Ho's contributions, particularly leading Vietnam toward independence from the French colonialists and leading the North in the American War.

Finally, it was quite interesting to visit the Hoa Lo prison, where John McCain was held as a prisoner of war for five years (and prior to that - where Vietnamese were held prisoners by the French.) There were several photos of John McCain including him being pulled out of the water and then visiting a few years ago as a Senator. There was a room of photos of the POW's laughing and playing games, decorating a Christmas tree, and receiving mail from their families. They made it look like summer camp. On the flip-side, there were also several disturbing exhibits showing the French colonialists' torture of the Vietnamese, including an actual guillotine and photos of several beheaded Vietnamese prisoners. I think most people agree that the Vietnamese prisoners were treated far worse by the French than the American prisoners were treated by the Vietnamese, but still - the propoganda was quite astounding. There were also several exhibits showing French and American citizens protesting colonial rule and war.

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In and Out of Laos

Laos has been the favorite Southeast Asia destination of nearly everyone I've met traveling. The New York Times ranked it as their #1 Destination of 2008, and Lonely Planet guidebook describes Luang Prabang as a "travel photographer's dream."

Unfortunately my experience was a bit different than everyone else's. I got to experience Laos' medical care first-hand... The same Lonely Planet describes the hospital as "eerily deserted" with serious medical cases needing to be flown to Thailand.

I caught a fever and a gnarly head-to-toe rash, and was confined to my guesthouse bed for a few days before being desperate enough to brave the hospital. Laos is a poor country, and the hospital depicted it, with a few cots (spots of dried blood on mine - sweet) and geckos crawling on the ceiling. I was kind of paranoid about getting a blood test, but needed to make sure I didn't have Dengue Fever or Malaria. There were some Irish guys at the hospital who sold me some of the extra needles they bought from the local pharmacy so I at least knew my needles were new.

Ultimately it ended up being nothing serious - probably a combination of an allergic reaction, and a bug I caught from river rafting or accidentally consuming tap water. I'm in Vietnam now, and feeling much better.

I ended up staying in Luang Prabang for about five days to recover, and did get to enjoy the town toward the end. Laos is a former French Colony, which is still apparent from the architecture (kind of resembling a calm, serene New Orleans neighborhood, with monks instead of street musicians and Buddhist temples everywhere). It lies right on the banks of the Mekong River and is surrounded by mountains and lush green jungles. There aren't many cars - just some tuk-tuks and a few motorcycles. There are a multitude of spas, cafes, and a beautiful Hmong night market. I think the best part of the French influence is that they continue to import brie cheese.

Laos is the world's most bombed country, thanks to the CIA's Vietnam War strategy, which most people back home don't know about (I certainly didn't before arriving.) Only 30% of the bombs have gone off, and the rest lie in fields throughout Northern Laos. Laos remains heavily undeveloped and environmentally unspoiled, and continues to get much foreign aid in attempts to build its nation after years of war and French rule. They were hit the hardest during the Asian Economic Crisis and the present government is communist. For visitors, Laos is a serene treat after coming from heavily developed Thailand or Vietnam - I read many tourists are Thai, who come to Laos for a look at what Thailand was like prior to Westernizing.

The most adventurous thing I did in Laos was the journey to Luang Prabang from Thailand via a 2-day slow boat down the Mekong. The idea of it sounded impossibly romantic, but the seats on the boats resembled the Puritans' church pews. Fortunately a woman in Thailand sold me a pillow for "comfort make sit", and throughout the journey, Laos kids would board the boat with laundry baskets full of beer, cigarettes and chips.

On my final day in Luang Prabang, I was thankfully well enough for a much-needed spa.

Adventures in Northern Thailand

It has long been a lofty goal of mine to learn to "cook" with "ingredients."

Since the Cooking for Dummies book my parents got me for Christmas a couple years ago never seemed to help, I signed up for a cooking class in Chiang Mai. I learned how to make Pad Thai, hot and sour soup, and red curry paste. "Be a good Thai wife," the instructor said as I sat on a stool hunched over the stone mortar-and-pestle trying to convert the chunks of chilies to a smooth paste.

These Thai women, who are all about the size of my arm, are much stronger than you'd ever guess. The woman who gave me a Thai massage felt like she was going to break my neck. And that pestle was really heavy. I was a pretty bad Thai wife, but eventually the chilies became paste. We added coconut cream and chicken and steamed the concoction in banana leaves. It was so good, it was hard to believe I actually made it. (I also made the banana leaf bowl. Holla!)

The following day I departed for a jungle trek. This involved a few hours crammed in the back of a pick-up truck outfitted with a roof and some benches. There were also some walls, kind of, except for the back. Thankfully we managed to stay in. (The other vehicle of backpacker-choice in Chiang Mai is a tuk-tuk, which is kind of a cross between a motorcycle and a chariot. The drivers all resemble James Bond - not in looks, unfortunately, but in their ability to speedily maneuver around other real vehicles and invent new lanes, like the dotted divider line. I thought I looked rather Bond Girl-esque, with my backpack, flip-flops and mosquito bites.)

At first to our disappointment (and later to our immense relief), the advertised "Two Day Trek" really included only 4 hours of actual trekking. Three hours on the first day, and one hour on the second day. Our guide - Chai - grew up in the jungle, and had a very good eye for snakes and massive spiders. We hiked in the humidity through the jungle up to a waterfall, and then to the guesthouses (Bamboo shacks with thatched roofs and mosquito nets, where we would soon camp for a few short hours before being awoken by an awful combination of cheap-beer-hangover and a herd of cows and their bamboo cow-bells).

We had a delicious dinner of fruit and curry. Later, all got involved in a drinking game, facilitated by the 5 Irish girls who had about 9 beers each, and also supplemented entertainingly by the other guide - Pong - saying repeatedly with much hope, "Birthday costumes!" (Pong also had a tattoo on his abdomen that said, "Free Sex," and was obsessed with the size of elephants' penises. I gathered that his life was filled with disappointment.)

The next day was an elephant ride. When we arrived at the elephant farm, we saw that they had no tusks. They had been chopped off for the ivory and I don't think they are treated very well in general. The vegetarians went for the ride, which ended up being my justification to go as well. But once I got on the elephant I saw they had these sharp hooks that they used to steer the elephants. We had the opportunity to buy a bunch of bananas for about a dollar, so I bought some for my elephant and he seemed to like it. He knew immediately and stuck his trunk up, and I fed him one and he immediately popped his trunk back up for the next one. So, I felt a little better, but overall I was kind of troubled by the experience.

Finally came the whitewater rafting, which was sweet. It was not your traditional whitewater rafting, in the sense that all 4 rafts were trying to beat each other down the river and get each other as wet as possible. You might expect that the debauchery would be limited to the "calm" areas of the river, but as we were in the Thai jungle and not a golf course, we jousted while going over the falls while our guide navigated around the rocks. Since he had "Thai Navy Seal" written in magic marker on his orange life jacket, I knew we were in good hands. At one point, two of the Irish girls were seized from their raft onto another raft.

The whole thing wore me out and actually I got quite sick for a day, but Chiang Mai has been great to hang out in. It is kind of "Backpacker Central" and there are lots of other travelers. I am in a very nice guesthouse that is only $9/night for my own room (+ own bathroom), which is very clean and includes TV with five English channels and air-conditioning. Chiang Mai also has a huge night-market, with loads of cheap cute clothing, jewelry and pirated movies. (I was very close to buying LOST Season 4 but held back... at this point, the more fine aspects of American life that are waiting for me back home, the easier it will be to return in September.)

But the best part of Chiang Mai is the plethora of used bookstores, which contain everything I've been looking for on Asia and Buddhism, and nearly everything on my "To Read" list. (Plus, many on my "Would like to read someday but probably will not" list, like Hawking and Tolstoy. Other backpackers of the smarter-than-me variety can buy those.) Anyways, the Chiang Mai bookstores are proving especially terrific, because the last place I looked for books - the Bangkok airport - was limited in selection to books about Thai cooking, transvestites (lovingly called "Ladymen" and often given a public restroom of their own), and Western men finding Thai girlfriends, like "My Thai Girl and I."