Sep 2009

Leaving Sapa for Laos we choose the what appears to be least problematic border crossing at Tay Trang through Dien Bien Phu. Most of such border crossings in the North are fraught with difficulties, materializing in the form of bribing, overcharging, seriously un-roadworthy conditions or forced renegotiation of the fare halfway up the mountains at the risk of abandonment. Horror stories of travelers abound, and this was also the area where that girl we met in Cuc Phoung crashed with her bus. Not a pretty spot to be in and we'd rather not get stranded in the Tonkinese Alps for that matter.

Normally such bus rides are incredibly mundane and most uneventful occasions so at the risk of boring you we won't elaborate on it for too long. Yet, if anything the closest impression we can give you is the striking resemblance with a game of Tetris. A game of Tetris, in which the driver skillfully inserts bags of rice, chickens and backpacks under the seats of his van and then craftily proceeds to fill up the remaining space by folding the passengers around the baggage. He did well all things considering; 21 people in a minivan in a 5, 5, 3, 4, 4 configuration. The only issue being that this game is going to last 9 hours.

The other thing with Vietnamese folks is their non-existent awareness of proximity, that little area we call personal space. So the constant slobbering that ensues, draping heads over your head rest, and coughing in one's neck is something you quickly grow accosted to in Nam. This time we wanted to see if this might work the other way too, with Guido hugging shoulders and draping himself over the poor guy next to him - it did not go down well. The wild rugged scenery of the Tonkinese Alps is once again astounding but with your head tucked into the next person's armpit its magic tends to fade after a while. Hence most of the journey passes us by in a sleep fogged blur interceded by shards of memory of a truly astounding place.

Dien Bien Phu - what to say about it. Allegedly, it's famous as the site of a truly decisive battle where the Vietminh turned a 13,000 strong French garrison into mince pie, effectively ending French colonial control over Vietnam. Strategically, with the French stationed in town at the bottom of a soup bowl shaped valley with the Alps towering above, this slaughter is easy to imagine. Especially when our bus descends onto the rice fields from the mountains above. Yet our encounters with this battlefield of old are brief. Our next 8 hour game of Tetris awaits tomorrow - 5:30am.

Ps: the crossing itself was a breeze and, once in Laos, pace of life slows down a few gears.

Arrive in Lao Cai at 5am after an overnight train journey, deluxe class. We take a minivan the remaining 38km to Sapa. The sky is brewing up a storm, complete with fork lightening and thunder directly on its tail. Flooded roads, swollen rivers, landslips and drowned steeply terraced rice paddies. The closer we get to Sapa, the worse the carnage that ensues. And this is the dry season! We arrive amid torrential rain which floods the square and pours over the stairs at this steep French hill station location. Power is out so we seek refuge at the closest hotel and have hot pancakes by candlelight for brekky.

We settle in and resume sleep until the sun is beaming and the power resumes. A change of night and day. Hill tribe minorities from nearby villages are heading through town en-route to the Saturday market, carrying baskets full of handicrafts and dressed in colourful traditional garb, their different costumes representing the different tribes.

The instant we step out of the cafe we are accosted by a throng of H'mong women who accompany us on our walk and try to entice us into a sale with their impeccable English and friendly dispositions. You will not see a lone traveler in Sapa - the local minorities attach themselves to foreigners like flies on meat. They pounce on you when you leave the resto's - not missing any opportunity to commence a sale. That said, it's a real pleasure!

The main street is surrounded by hotels dotting the periphery of the misty mountains, with views of the terraced rice paddies stepping down into the valleys below. At the local market the Montagnards all trade with one another - the largest ethnic groups being the H'mong and the Dzao people with their billowing red headdresses.

We appreciate the cool air and are drawn to the activity at the town square where we engage with a couple of young H'mong girls. The talkative one is 20yrs old and is married with two children. It takes us a while to notice the little babies strapped to their backs hidden from the elements by blankets. These girls walk for 2hrs every morning to come to Sapa to sell their handicrafts (luckily their husbands pick them up to return home but many others walk). We're amazed at how low maintenance the babies are here - they just hang out on their mother's backs all day. Girls marry at around 13-15yrs old. The parents of both families have to approve the match. Potential husbands are chosen based on their assets e.g. how many water buffalo they possess.

We head up to the 'microwave station' to receive intermittently spectacular views of the valley (in between engulfment by mist). The mist chases us through the valley where we explore through a maze of caves, karst, rock gardens, and the best views of Sapa town from "cloud yard". Sapa is the coldest place in Vietnam and we freeze up here once the sun sets.

"Smile Resto" for dinner where we order exotic fare such as goose and deer, whilst sampling the cheap Sapa wines on offer; fruit, cherry, and plain rice wine for less than $1 each! A free traditional hill-tribe cultural performance provides a good excuse to sample the plum and apple wines at a local bar. We befriend some local teens who give us lucky trinkets and before we know it we get pulled up to dance and participate in the show with a bamboo stick game which is like elastics but using bamboo poles instead (ouch).

We embark on a two day trek through minority villages, complete with tour guide, Lauren from the states, Linda from Canada, and an ethnic minority entourage. We start from the rural Cavan village of the Dzay minority, sloshing along the muddy paths past ox, chickens, pigs, children and bamboo shacks.

First stop is to visit some families along the way where cute grubby kiddies play in the dirt with spare bike parts for toys. As we leave the villages to walk through the terraced rice paddies, our entourage of women and children hold our hands to prevent us from sliding over when it gets steep and muddy. Every time we lose our balance little hands appear to support us - so sweet!

We emerge from the bamboo forests to a cascading waterfall. This is the end of the line for our entourage who live in the nearby village. Our new 'friends' try guilt us into buying trinkets - poor Lauren gets H'mong cursed for not buying anything. We cross the river and head through the Giang Ta Chai village - home to the red Dzao. Quyen our 23yr old guide, who walks in jeans and a leather jacket, takes us on a shortcut towards our destination of Ban Ho, through a construction site for the dam that's in the pipeline - a total eyesore to the otherwise picturesque valley. Yet, this valley is supposedly under National Park protection. What do they actually protect?

Ban Ho is home to the Tay minority, who we'll be staying with tonight in a traditional stilted house. We soon realise that this experience will be just as 'authentic' as the Mai Chau homestays as every house in this village has been converted to a homestay. We are left to entertain ourselves so we drink beers and play cards (not exactly the minority experience we'd envisaged). Although the seasoned hot chips go down a treat! Quyen, who isn't too enthused about trekking is in his element as he cooks us dinner (he wants to own a resto someday). Servings of many tasty meat and vege dishes, with copious shots of "happy water" (rice wine) to wash it down.

Quyen admits to being a few rice wines ahead of us and an emotional outburst follows - he dramatically throws his promise ring onto the table and tells us his girlfriend woes - poor boy. He's cheered up somewhat by breakfast and after lots of banana and honey pancakes we head to "The Lavie" waterfall, now signposted as "The Deathtrap" since a tourist drowned here last year. We're soon joined by a German couple, their guide, and an entourage of Dzao women. The German guy takes instant develop photo's of the Dzao and gives them pics of themselves to keep. The rapture they gain from these "magic pictures" is priceless - a technology that we don't even use anymore. The irony does not escape us. After lunch we head back up the hill to the road, as Quyen doesn't want to walk the 9km road (not quite the 15km per day of trekking we'd been promised yet Vietnam and false advertising goes hand in hand), where we wait for our old army jeep to pick us up. Our trusty dog 'Mic' who follows us everywhere, entertains us and pisses on the Thit Cho (dog meat) sign of the local resto.

Back in Sapa we indulge in divine apple tarts and chocolate tarts at the local bakery, then it's back to "Smile" for dinner and wine with Lauren. We are soon joined by Beka, then Brady, and make the most of having a drinking crew. We end up at a bar - feel like we've been transported to Texas (the fact that we are with 2 Texans may have something to do with that!) as this is where all the tourists drink (too expensive for the locals). We have a curfew at our hotel but want to carry on drinking so Lauren and Beka 'borrow' some expensive looking Italian wine and we carry on back home on our balcony, making good use of the teapot set. Good times until our neighbor comes out in her undies and complains. We proceed to whisper (about her undies), yet this seems to anger her further "I can hear everything you're saying" she whines. Sigh...

We meet up with Lauren and Beka for brekky at Smile, then say bye to Lauren who leaves today. Later on the power in the whole of Sapa dies - right when we're in the middle of writing online and Beka is online to her boyfriend.

We admit defeat and drink fruit wine at Smile... a good excuse. Then it's time to celebrate again - our neighbor moved out so now we can drink and be loud in peace. Red wine and chocolate tarts on the balcony while looking out over the misty mountains around us. Special times in Sapa!

After many visits to the travel agents and reading too many horror stories online about Halong Bay tours gone wrong (esp. the post about the tourist whose boat sunk in the bay and they had to swim back to shore), we commit ourselves to a two night, three day trip with VEGA Travel. Fingers crossed this will be a memorable experience for all the right reasons! A three hour journey from Hanoi, and we arrive at the docks, swarming with tour groups.

Our "junk" is a lovely wooden three level boat (quite alike all the other boats) with sun loungers on the top level (pity it's cold, overcast and drizzly).

We cruise through the bay, through the forest of magical and mysterious limestone mountains emerging from a sea of 3000+ islands, take in the scenery while getting acquainted with our crew and enjoy an impressive seafood banquet for lunch.

Shortly after this we dock up to visit "surprising cave" (Hang Sung Sot) - an elaborate and gigantic cave system with a disco vibe thanks to the imaginatively illuminated chambers showcasing some interesting "natural" rock formations, stalactites and stalagmites.

We leave just as hordes of boats arrive.

To obtain a panoramic view over the islands we climb the 734 steps up to the summit of Titop Island, the only island in Halong bay that has white sand beaches (brought over from the mainland though).

We anchor at Bai Tu Long Bay where we'll stay overnight. Next up - sea kayaking through caves, lagoons and around the karsts. Our cruisy guide decides to head back to the junk and leave us to it. A chilly paddle, rewarded by hot showers in our en-suite.

Another great feast materializes of seafood, meat, veg, fruit, wine... Great chats with our new mates while Dang our guide passes around the notorious rice wine and shares valuable info with us - why do Vietnamese eat chicken feet? "cos it's a fun snack, nice and crunchy". Right. We get rocked to sleep and are fortunate to be on a rat free junk (luck's on our side). Our bedroom is on the lower deck, complete with stunning morning karst and sea views from our bed.

Unfortunately the rest of our crew is heading back today so we jump aboard another boat with Dang and head to Cat Ba island for some hiking in the national park. The three of us trek through lush forest while a 70yr old local keeps up with us (despite being laden up with fishing gear and wearing gumboots). We hear a strange noise - is it the endemic yellow headed langur only found on Cat Ba? No, wild dogs advises Dang. We expected an easy walk in the park but the track is pretty rugged with branches for steps, vines for hand holds, and many slippery rock slides. We stop at the old mans hut for a green tea - he is allowed to live in the park because he's been here so long. We then carry on, eventually meeting up with the road - surprisingly void of activity. Amazing for Vietnam!

Back aboard our boat and among the karsts for yet another feast. We dock up at a floating house with six guard dogs aboard - there goes our excuse of not having room for a dog back in Auckland! We sea kayak from here past some floating fishing villages - all nicely painted green shacks with red roofs and guard dogs to watch over the fish and shellfish suspended in underwater cages.

Back at the floating house, Alana is fascinated by the cuttlefish (squid family) in pens. Even more so when Dang prods them with a broom handle and they instantaneously change colour - these guys have many costumes; red, white, mottled, iridescent blue flashing along their edges as a signal for danger (like space invaders), followed by ink explosions. When Dang puts live fish into the mix the cuttlefish switch into predator mode and home in for the kill in packs. The poor fish have no chance.

Alana has to be pried away from the action so we can head to Cat Ba Island where we are to farewell Dang and settle into a 3-star hotel "Holiday View" for a night of luxury. Once there, we venture out for dinner and a brief stroll along the waterfront, then hibernate with movies, oreo's and coffee in our swanky room.

Big buffet brekky to start the day, then meet up with Dang, take another junk through the bays and back to the mainland for yet another huge feed. We then head back to Hanoi, via the obligatory rest stop at a souvenir gallery selling everything you could desire at not so desirable prices. Nice try though. One of the tourists inquires over the high death toll on these roads "it's ok, Vietnamese make many babies", advises the guide.

All in all, a fantastic trip - made so by Dang, our crew, and the natural beauty of Halong Bay.

Nestling the northern shores of Hoan Kiem lake lies Hanoi's oldest quarter, bristling with pure raw energy. Swarms of motorbikers haunt the spiderweb of streets and alleyways that are stuffed with cafe's, travel agencies and a great many shops selling the usual plethora of handicrafts, conical hats, Ho Chi Minh shirts and all manner of other trinkets. Beware for the uninitiated, this place unleashes a full on ground assault on all your senses. A constant wail of klaxons fill the air, conical hatters tugging your sleeves at every corner, beggars roaming the streets, pipe smoking cyclo drivers yell out on top of each other "hey, u want ride?!". Honk honk. motorbikes up our ass again. No turning back now because the fruit sellers are haunting us "ey, mista, u want sum fruit, come to my shop". Aaah, get out of our face!

This place is like a lucid acid trip spun out of control. The famous white rabbit tumbling down the rabbit hole. We seek refuge in a cheap nasty hotel with fungus for wallpaper and relentlessly haggle down the price even cheaper. Sure enough we get evicted, politely we might add, the very next day. There's a first for everything. The lines are drawn and so we are lured into a pleasant walhalla across the road - the Sunshine hotel. Inside a haven of peace and tranquility awaits. Almost like stepping into another dimension. We're sold and are so not going to leave this place anymore. Air con, cable tv, complementary fruit, in room internet and buffet breakfast as a bonus. They even have outrageous fortune on the box (through the Asian Ozzie channel showing bits of NZ). We haven't been amongst such luxury for months (but it seems much longer). So it comes that from our ivory tower we plot our next moves on the city; a wild beast that requires taming.

Madness aside, this part of town is fully immersed into its own vibe of atmosphere. Once dawn announces its presence, the pavements rapidly fill up with color coded plastic kiddie seats where the locals and outsiders alike go hard on the Bia hoi beer and xeo. Episodes of laughter echo through the alleyways while aromatic wafts of fried chicken permeate the air. The cafes are booming with hip city teenagers sipping their lattes and flavored bubble up tea (a sweet tea with goo balls added).

The choice of foods and snacks on offer is astounding. Garage-style eateries with all manner of fried goods on display, fighting for your custom. The locals go hard on it. Best of the bunch are the mobile doner kebab stands where they whip you up a sizzling but tender pita kebab in seconds, all for only 15,000 dong. Crazy! Pepperoni's is another instant hit - all you can eat pizza & pasta for 79,000 dong. Does life get any better really? A good place for people watching too, all five stories of it. All the well off young Vietnamese pop in on their lunch break and the narrow pavement outside congests with scooters. Properly set up now we can finally re-celebrate Alana's birthday (read our misadventures in Mai Chau) over the next couple of days. There's lots to do and entertainment is at a premium. But first some rice wine from the supermarket.

The center of Hanoi reaches around the lake so we stroll past the myriad of neon lit shops, have mince turnovers and spring rolls, enjoy coffees from a rooftop cafe and sit in on a nighttime session of water-puppeteering. This ancient art of waterpuppetry originates from the flooded rice paddy fields of North Vietnam and that's where it remains most alive, with farmers operating the multitude of puppet limbs from behind a bamboo screen. No surprise a few of them perished from all manner of water-borne diseases.

The contemporary setup hasn't changed by much, with the added exception that the audience is seated in plush and comfy loungers watching the play unfold in a waist deep basin of St Paddy's green water to the tunes of gongs, bamboo xylophones, flutes (sao) and one stringed zithers (dan bace). Some of the performances are incredibly eclectic and vivid; fishermen catching fish from their boats, fire spewing dragons and phoenixes courting a graceful dance. How do they pull it off? No less than 8 puppeteers emerge in their waders at the end of the show!

And so we wail away the days. Downtime is filled up with booking Lao visas, Halong Bay tours and train tickets, in between visits to Hoan Kiem lake (lake of the restored sword) and Ngoc Son temple which gravitates in the middle of it. Legend of the great golden tortoise who leaped out of the water and grabbed the sword from the emperor. Allegedly the turtle still swims around...

Dedicated to Confucius, the temple of Literature. Vietnam's first university from 1076, to educate the sons of Mandarins with its courtyards, gates and pathways. On emperor Le Thanh Tong's command 116 stelae were erected here from 1442 onwards to celebrate the achievements of its doctorate recipients. It's a pretty serene place to wander about, a break away from the city while idling the time away in its gardens.

The Hao Lo prison is another thought provoking sight we don't mind sweating several miles on the tarmac for. Better known as the Hanoi Hilton by the prominent US pilots pow's who spend some quality time here during the war. An Old yellow french brick facade is all that remains, courtesy of the skyscraper that was erected behind it not too long ago. It was popular, even John McCain spent some time here during his sabbatical, and he never got his flight-suit back either - gutted!

Most mind bending perhaps is the Vietnamese account of events that unraveled here. Dark filthy dinghy cells, most of the exhibits actually relate to the Vietnamese struggle for independence. It even has part of the original sewerage system some blokes escaped through back in the French era. Entertainment is provided by the great many photos and videos of the great time the American prisoners had during their time here. VIP treatment, Xmas parties, basketball and holiday camp activities to name just a few. Must be the best piece of propaganda we've seen so far and good for a laugh.

All of this is one big baloney sandwich of course. Bones were broken, souls were shattered, whips were cracked and the monthly electricity bill racked up too, aside from the usual bouts of malnourishment and disease. They were probably at least as good at it as the French and Americans, and the latter remain well practiced today. Yet, none of this is a particularly well kept state secret but it makes you wonder; who are they trying to convince so desperately, and why are they so bad at it?

Our last exploration in town, a venture into the wealthy areas. Amongst which the presidential palaces, embassies and administrative buildings reside. It's an important politically laden neighborhood, judging from the number of guards and guns doing the rounds. The elusive one pillar pagoda lies nigh. World famous in Vietnam we find out it is exactly that - a concrete pillar with a tiny pagoda perched on top. Not sure what to make of it.

Then the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum next door. An immensely imposing concrete cube inspired by the moody socialist, Leninist, Marxist architecture. You can imagine the thunderclouds brooding above it, yet its a shiny day. At 11am Pandora's box remains firmly shut, courtesy of the ludicrous early opening times it enforces. Bummer too, we really did want to see the revered Uncle Ho. Barred by invisible boundaries we cannot cross at the risk of being whistled at by the army of cops that swarm the cube, and guarding a dead body 24/7 they take their job seriously. We better be on our way.