Saigon, something tastes Western.

Out of the Jungles of Hoi An and into the buzzing metropolis of Ho Chi Mihn City. What's that? Never heard of it? Perhaps, Saigon rings a bell then. That's right, after the Vietnamese drove the Americans out and united the country, the name was changed to reflect their leader and hero, Ho Chi Mihn, or Uncle Ho as he is affectionately known and depicted.

Having wandered a bit, it was easy to see that Saigon was far bigger and more developed than Hanoi. Even now, it was easy to see just where the French-American stronghold was in the country. Downtown boasts many tall buildings with various western corporations taking up seats in them. The main streets are wide, well lit and lined with various shops selling everything from western apparel to touristy souvenirs.

The seedier backpacker ghetto is well developed for the young and sandalled. Translation,everything was more expensive. Once again, I rented a scooter and went out into the craziness that was Vietnamese street driving.

As if there wasn't enough traffic on the roadways, they have a tradition where every Sunday evening EVERYONE goes out on their motorbike/scooter and goes cruising around the downtown area. This is a viable activity for the evening and entails doing nothing but riding around, inhaling copious amounts of fumes and talking to friends. Once more I took a deep breath (though this smog was making them less deep!) and headed out into the insanity.




Riding to the outer districts of the city also gave me a good sight of how "the other half" lives. These areas were more reminiscent of Hanoi. Families sitting around on the floor in their open houses, enjoying a meal together or going at it on the ole Karaoke! It was great to see that Saigon was more than just the mammoth structures and proganda relics of the downtown districts. Though, there is nothing quite like seeing the hammer and sickle flags hanging across the street from the Hilton.



The last days in Saigon brought a pleasant surprise in that I'd found myself a travel partner. R. had been on a similar trip to mine but seemed to have more ideas as to what he wanted to see. Despite his planning, we had similar styles of travel and one of the merits of being solo is that you can have no plans, no pressure and set off into any which direction the wind blows you. This time, the wind was to blow me south and west to follow the famous Mekong river to the delta and into Cambodia.

I knew little of the route or area but my new travel buddy had it all figured out, sort of. So off we set on a journey that would take us by taxi, motorcycle, bicycle, bus and boat to new adventures in Vietnam and Cambodia!

Stories to follow.

More fotki @ dimakay.fotki.com

Out to the Jungles of Hoi An

In my last days in Hanoi I took a trip out to a place called Ha Long Bay. These rock formations and floating villages in the water seemed like a popular destination as there were advertisements for it everywhere in town. The boat was a tad shabby but it was great to get out of the city and see natural wonders, which incidentally made for some great photos.

Perhaps it was this brief taste of nature or my burning lungs or my ringing ears or just my desire to have a slightly slower pace but off we went on the overnight train to Hoi An. Situated right smack in the middle of the country it was supposed to be a low key beach town with a nice old city as well. I'm sure that's the case in season. When we'd arrived the water was too rough to swim in and for the most part it was overcast.

The views coming in however, were amazing. Lush green jungles on one side and steep cliff sides descending into dramatic ocean views on the other side. One can almost imagine himself as a U.S. soldier touring the jungles, fighting strange insects, sweating through socks, looking for landmines... maybe not. Regardless, the views absolutely justified the train ride.

The town itself was quite small and apparently the area is under development as we passed a large number of resorts being built on the coastline. As it turned out, Hoi An is a popular destination for clothing. We came face to face with many shops and touts offering us custom made suits and dresses.

Due to the incliment weather and the tight schedule my companions were keeping, we actually set about booking a flight OUT of town as soon as we'd arrived. Feeling satisfied, we went to dinner in the old town. The charming and quiet nature of the place, situated on a canal, made us wish we didn't have to leave so soon.

A quick note, in Vietnam they have this beer which has no preservatives. It is very cheap, quite light and usually served out of a giant metal vat. At 4,000 Dong (roughly 27 cents) a cup it's easy to have many servings, however, by the second cup it can be quite effective.

As mentioned earlier, we were to spend only one night in the town. However, not wanting to make a complete waste of the journey, we'd decided to visit some ruins the next day. The place, called My Son was only about two hours of travel from Hoi An. After discussing some tourist options we got the idea to rent some scooters and head out there ourselves.

Perhaps the better title for this post should be, "The Beginning of an Addiction." You see, it had been a long running desire of mine to try a scooter. Sure I'd been curious of motorcycles for ages but all of those gears!? I simply had no idea how to operate one. A scooter (motorbike) seemed like the best solution and what better place to try one than the empty streets of this small town, right?

Constant rain and the ever looming fear of insane Vietnamese riders from the North made us a bit weary, but we decided to bite the bullet and go for it anyway.

The next morning we awoke around 5:00 am. To do the trip as planned, we had to be back in time to catch our taxi to the airport. Out in the pitch black morning, we were disappointed to find cats and dogs coming from the sky. Upset, I went back to sleep. Some hours later, I'd woken up to find the rain had stopped, the skies were still gray, but better off. We'd calculated that we probably had just enough time to ride out, stay for 30 minutes and come straight back.

Sure it was a crazy feat and perhaps not everyone in the group felt like risking it, but when that temptation of a scooter ride through the jungle hits you, you just have to go. Off we went. After a few kilometers of bumpy roads and stopping for directions we were out onto the main road that would take us to My Son.

Finally, we were off into the real Vietnam. No touts, not hotels, no souvenir shops. Just rice paddies, lots and lots of rice paddies.



Random animals toiling in the fields. Just about every kid we'd passed waved hello to us, perhaps they weren't used to the foreign people not being on giant buses roaring past. Oh, there were those too! We learned to avoid them.

After about an hour, we'd started to notice the clouds getting grayer and the air getting heavier. Next we started feeling the little droplets followed by much larger droppings, before we knew it we were in a tropical rain storm. Being only about 20km from our destination we thought it prudent to pull over and take cover at some building we found off the side of the road.

The property didn't appear to be occupied and there was a nice porch for us to stand under to wait for the rain to pass. Surrounding us were rice fields and small houses where families lived. Naturally, we thought this to be a great photo-op.




Some 15 minutes later a local guy started walking towards us. We couldn't tell by his expression just what he wanted but we'd assumed we were on some private property and he was coming to investigate what trouble we were up to. Weren't we wrong.

In his limited English he explained to us that he and his family live just across the road and that they'd wanted us to come by and have tea with them! Surprised, we headed on over in the rain. Apparently, this created a lot of excitement for his whole family. He promptly introduced us to his father, who makes rock sculptures, his wife, his brother and kids.

We were sat down and quickly given hot tea as he tried to make conversation. With the use of hand gestures and limited English we were able to discuss things as varied as his favorite brand of cigarettes, fashionable validity of torn jeans and finally as to why I was without a woman, clearly a crime at my age in this country.

As the skies cleared we were sent on our way with warm smiles, handshakes and the almighty exchange of MSN screen names so popular in the countryside. Mounting our beasts we rode on.

We'd reached our destination and realized a few key facts:
1)The cost to get in was 60,000 Dong each.
2) It would take roughly two hours to traverse the whole site.
3) We had to be back in 2.5 hours.

Back on the bikes we went for the race back! This ride was far quicker and we took some liberties with pictures in motion as well as of the countryside. We weren't in the least disappointed by the fact that we never made it in to see some old ruins. We got to meet some living people and see some great countryside.

In the end we caught the cab and the flight with some time to spare. And of course, as usual we came to see that the pleasure is always in the journey, not the destination.

More foto @
public.fotki.com/Dimakay/travel/halong-bay
public.fotki.com/Dimakay/travel/hoi-an--jungles

The Peaceful Red Riot

A quick recap of an event that we'd witnessed in my first days in Hanoi.

Myself and the British guys I was hanging out with, had heard there was to be a big soccer match between Vietnam and Thailand. Not really knowing much about it other than the fact that everyone in the city seemed to be quite excited about it we'd decided to head out and find a place to eat outside the would also have a TV.

The match itself wasn't much of a spectacle. Thailand scored early on and Vietnam was trailing until the last minutes when a surprise header made the equalizer. Though the game ended in a tie, this was apparently a tournament and Vietnam had just beat Thailand for the first time in 11 years. That was NOT the interesting bit.

As we were departing the restaurant and started heading down the street of little restaurants we noticed people celebrating. The ones we came across were visibly happy and we had a few high fives and waves as we walked down the street. This didn't prepare us for what was to come.

Before our eyes was a roaring sea of red. Every piece of this huge intersection was suffocated with screaming Vietnamese on motorbikes. Each was wearing a red headband and usually with a passenger or two waving giant Vietnamese flags. The flag, though I'm sure you knew this, is just red with a big yellow star in the middle.

The ones who weren't randomly screaming were chanting something that sounded like "Vietnam # 1," later we found out it means Vietnam is the Champion. For some reason they were quite amused that there were foreigners present and seemed quite intent on having us share in their excitement. All who stopped next to us made sure to give us high-fives, handshakes and smiles.

We kept commenting to each other that had a foreigner just stepped out of their hotel and observed what was going on, one clearly could assume this was the coming of the second communist revolution and the Americans were getting kicked out ... again.

My mates decided to buy some flags, quite convenient that the flag makers are everywhere, and we proceeded down to the big lake which makes up the center of Hanoi. When we caught sight of the scene at the lake, we'd realized that the intersection was just the tip of the iceberg.

There was a virtual parking lot around the lake. It seemed like every person in Hanoi had come out to join in the celebrations. Each screaming, waving a flag. Here were also some small cars and trucks, also loaded to the top with people. Some blasted music, other sang songs, complete strangers embraced each other.

The Brits took notice that what was unique about this was that unlike a typical sports riot, not a single person appeared to be drinking. Moreover, there was no violence or damage being created. We barely even saw any police. We postulated that this may be due to the mind control the authorities have exhibited over the years but who knows for sure, but that's a tad speculative.

Everyone was friendly, no one seemed drunk or violent. Of course, we being the rowdy foreigners went and purchased beers and sat on the sidewalk and just watched it unfurl. Many people came up and talked to us, despite their limited English, to share in their happiness.




At one point, one of the British guys hopped onto a motorbike and went for a cruise around the lake waving a giant flag. In a flash of an eye, he'd disappeared into the crowd. The remaining guy and I made wagers as to whether he'd ever return from this "trip" on a strangers bike.

Around 3am we started to head back to the hotel, the parade/riot was still going at the very same intensity. We wondered just how much of the country would make it to work the next day. Both of us, still not quite sure what we'd just witnessed.



A quick follow-up to the comment about police control in Hanoi. The bars officially close a midnight. These are meant mostly for foreigners as it seems the Vietnamese prefer nightclubs or just staying at home. However, as it seems, a system has emerged where one or two bars pay off the cops every night to stay open. People from the UK and Ireland would recognize this as an old fashioned lock in. Essentially, the lights are turned out and the front door is locked, yet all the patrons remain drinking.

In other bars, the police will come and sometimes even blow a loud whistle inside the bar. Everyone is told to leave. If you happen to be in the lucky bar that night, the bartender will come around with a wink and tell you to stay until the cops leave. If you are in the unlucky bar for that night, you will be escorted out and probably proceed through the streets which at this point are completely empty, to the bar that is open.

Gotta love being in a communist country.

A few more blurry pics @ dimakay.fotki.com