Yesterday is Yesterday, Today is Today, and Tomorrow is Tomorrow...

Dalat, Vietnam

June 23, 2007
N 11°56.529
E 108°26.398

Marc, Elise and I organized a ride with the “Easy Riders,” local tour guides, hanging out on street corners, who speak English and zip around from site to site on motorcycles—mostly old Russian or East German models. Since arriving in Vietnam I’ve completely given up my fear of motorcycles and embraced the motorbike as a primary and necessary mode of transportation. Today wasn’t any different.

When we set out in the morning, we asked the Riders to take us into the mountains so we could go trekking and requested them to pick us up after 4 hours. After a few minutes of good natured haggling over a price and a general agreement of where we were going we jumped on the bikes. A few kilometers out of town, a light rain started to come down making the roads slick, slowing our Riders down and forcing us to stop briefly to put on rain slickers.

Out of the town, we quickly climbed into the mountains. Snaking our way along the mountainside we had a perfect view down to the city of Dalat. Fields of green vegetables terraced the mountainside of rich, brilliant, red soil. Greenhouses were scattered among the fields, filled with various types of flowers including hydrangeas, roses and hibiscus; sold throughout Vietnam and exported to neighboring countries. As my Rider focused on the road I scanned right and left taking in the stunning scenery as we moved through small villages, more vegetable fields and local markets featuring the fresh produce.

Our first stop was the Tiger Waterfall where our guide advised us to walk down to the waterfall, take pictures and come back to meet him. Since the rain was still trickling, the Riders didn’t want to drive the 18 KM back to town, and then return to pick us up. Instead, they decided to lead us over the mountain trails, and after we discovered they had local knowledge of the area we were fine with them showing us the way.

The mountain area surrounding Dalat was a hotbed for Viet Cong during the American War (as it is known to the locals). Dalat was more of a safe-haven for the Viet Cong since they were familiar with the area, American and Vietnamese soldiers stayed clear of the rough wilderness. Those who did venture into the mountain region the Viet Cong captured them, both Vietnamese and Americans, and held them as prisoners of war. As we trekked through the fern laden area with our heavy feet crackling the branches, I tried to imagine what it would be like as a soldier venturing through the area. The forest actually held more than one enemy—tigers, poisonous snakes and the tough Viet Cong soldiers.

Each step I took, I was locked in a day dream. Thinking about the brave American and Vietnamese soldiers, who fought side-by-side, struggling to find their way through the dense fauna and slippery red clay, knowing that Viet Cong soldiers may be hiding, patiently waiting, to pounce at any moment. I realized regardless of how much I read or watch on TV I will never understand the level of bravery put forth by our soldiers who fought for their lives, in a foreign land, in a war that many didn’t understand.

As I trudged along the make shift path with my walking stick the thoughts stayed with me. We talked to our guide a little bit about the American War. The majority of Vietnamese people, including him, explain: “that was yesterday”, “today is today” and “tomorrow is tomorrow”. If only everyone could embrace this refreshing Buddhist attitude…

Dalat, The Foggy City...

Dalat, Vietnam

June 21, 2007
N 11°56.529
E 108°26.398

Dalat, a mountain town, is located at approximately 4900 feet above sea-level, providing a much needed break from the heat for a few days. I think we all cheered when we saw fog hovering over the picturesque mountain side, clearly visible as we made our way around the lake near the center of the city. The refreshing climate of Dalat is perfect for revitalizing the entire gang over the next four days; then we all go our separate ways and back into the fray of the big cities of Ho Chi Minh (Saigon) and back to Hanoi for Bob and Teddy.

Although the population of Dalat is nearly 140,000 it doesn’t have many tourists since it’s a solid six hour bus ride into the mountains. Young children still peer at us, suspiciously at first, until we speak a polite “hello” and they giggle and run away. The street peddlers don’t really exist, which is a welcome change after the on-top of you vendors in the larger Vietnamese cities we’ve visited.

Those who are selling food and wares on the street keep their eyes peeled for police; quickly packing up their belongings and taking off in all directions at the first sight of the cops. The sight was reminiscent of Canal Street in New York City, where each store front has a tarp that quickly drops, hiding their faux handbags, sunglasses and watches before the police cite them.

Marc and I set out for a walk around the lake, stopping occasionally to say hello to the many young men with their fishing rods in the water, for a little exercise and to see what Dalat had to offer. The forward thinking city appears to have put a lot of effort into creating perfectly manicured gardens in areas surrounding the lake. One of the parks serves as a hot spot for children to fly their kites on a windy day. Unfortunately, with the scattered rain today, we didn’t see too many kites in the sky, but still enjoyed the park as children ran around with their friends, attempted to launch kites with their grandparents and always kept a curious eye on us.

After our walk around the lake, we made our way down a small alley that appeared to be the original market street of Dalat. The street bustled with locals who obviously preferred the open-air and old-school charm over the stores in the town center. Women squatting on the ground were selling silver smelt, chunks of tuna, squid, and a variety of other fresh fish that most likely came from Nha Trang. The smell of food filled the air as clouds of gray smoke poured from coal barbeques. In other stalls fresh vegetables, growing perfectly in the cooler climate, were displayed on blue tarps spread-out along the cobblestone street. Our slow pace through the market afforded us plenty of time to smile at the locals, dodge scooters, say hello to the curious kids and give a polite wave.

All of us our very pleased with the relaxing feel of Dalat and happy to call it home for the next few days.

Everyone Deserves a Second Chance...

Nha Trang, Vietnam

June 20, 2007
N 12°14.127
E 109°11.195

Guest Writer: Elise Tuttle

Shortly after settling into Nha Trang, I realized that it was not the quiet beach town I was looking forward to. Turned off by the very large, carnival-like crowds at the beach, we made plans to give the city one full day and then move on to Da Lat.

Our guide book suggested a boat tour of the 4 islands near Nha Trang. With it costing only $5, I figured we couldn’t go wrong. Upon arriving on the boat we were promised a lovely day of snorkeling, lunch, singing and dancing with a live band, and wine (all included in the $5 price). Since our guide was quite the jokester, I wasn’t sure what to expect. To my surprise every single one of his promises was fulfilled.

On the way out to the first island they played a mix of classic jams including Hansen Brothers, The Beatles, Britney Spears, and of course my favorite Whitney! I took this as a sign that the boat trip was going to be awesome. Snorkeling was nice although Marc and Laura were not impressed since they had spent time at the Great Barrier Reef less than a month ago. The main attraction was being able to cool off for a second in the water.

A beautiful lunch was prepared on the stern of the boat, on the deck right next to the bathroom. In preparation for lunch we lined the edges of the boat in order for the crew to fold the middle seats down into a communal table. During lunch I was overwhelmed by the generosity and kindness displayed by all the Vietnamese people on the boat (our family comprised five of the 9 Westerners on the boat). Plates and plates of food were being passed our direction. It seemed everyone was looking out for us, making sure we were having a good time and getting enough to eat. Or, maybe they were just trying to make sure the “big big” Americans didn’t get irritable.

After lunch, the plates were cleared and out came the band (young crew members of the boat). The drum set consisted of rusted metal frames with a duct tape face. The electric guitar had a surfer sound to it and at the end of each intro I was expecting to hear “Wipe Out.” And of course, there was a tambourine. What was once our dining table now turned into the dance floor/stage. The boat crew and guests all joined in for a karaoke extravaganza! The jam session alone was worth the $5.

After the show it was time for a dip and they were serving wine on the floating bar (a piece of dirty Styrofoam). Only there was one problem… the toilet was being drained and its contents (Baby Ruth's and all) were floating by where we wanted to jump into the water. Most of the people on the boat either didn’t seem to mind or didn’t notice, but I wasn’t too thrilled about diving into a bunch of poop. Luckily, Marc gave me the push I needed and I was in the water before I could even blurt out some obscenities. I made sure I kept my mouth shut and swam as fast as I could away from the boat. I guess that is what family is for! Marc and Laura were close behind and between the three of us we were able to choke down the wine that tasted like cough medicine. (It was very similar to Boone’s… a local Dalat Mulberry wine.)

After returning from the boat trip it was time for some much needed beer from the micro brewery we had tested out the night before. As we were sipping our fresh, cold beer, the topic of dinner came up. Someone suggested lobster from the stand on the sidewalk across the street from the beach. I had never had lobster before and figured this was the best place to try it—a lobster and 2 beers were under $10. As we approached the “restaurant” we saw two of the friends, locals, we had made on the boat earlier that day. He told us the food was excellent and made sure the chef knew we were his friends so he would treat us right. I got to pick my lobster out of the bowl of live lobsters. It was weighed and thrown onto the grill (a pan on the ground filled with coal covered by a wire rack. The coal was kept hot by women who were fanning it with large leaves). We took our seats on the playschool furniture that is becoming all too familiar and everybody else agreed that this was the biggest lobster they had ever eaten. If you are wondering how I liked my first lobster, let’s just say I had to catch myself before I instinctively reached for a dime sized piece that had fallen to the sidewalk below. And, I was overcome with joy when Laura announced that she found a hiding place for more meat in one of the larger legs.

With full bellies, we made our way back to the hotel to rest for our bus ride to Da Lat in the morning. A surprisingly wonderful day in Nha Trang reminded me that even though first impressions are usually right, everyone (and everywhere) deserves a second chance.

A Mom in Vietnam...

Nha Trang, Vietnam

June 20, 2007
N 12°14.127
E 109°11.195

Guest Writer: Teddy Tuttle (Marc’s mom)

Even though Nha Trang has wide sidewalks unlike any other city we have visited, we continue to walk like a covey of quail. It started in Hanoi as we followed each other single file through the narrow alleys and marketplaces in order not to be mowed down by the ever present throng of motor-scooters coming from all directions. Then onto Hue and Hoi An where the narrow sidewalks were completely taken over by parked motor-scooters, sand, gravel, bricks and construction workers. Thus, we continued to walk in the streets, onto the curbs, down into the gutters, back onto the sidewalk (briefly); what should have been a mile seemed to become two miles due to the dodging, weaving, ups and downs. All the while messages were being passed from front to rear, middle to back like a game of “telephone.” Being that I am usually the one in the back of the covey, I often wonder how the comment has changed by the time it reaches me.

From Hanoi to Hue to Hoi An to Nha Trang we are recognized as “the American family”. The Vietnamese have a real affection for family, smiling and nodding as they figure out we’re together – a family. Then they want to know if there are more of us back in America – “oh, yes”, we tell them and then go through the list: daughter, sons, son in law, daughter in law and grandchild.

There certainly is an interest in speaking English among all ages of the Vietnamese people. Riding on the train was one of Bob’s favorite events, making his way down the very narrow hallway and seeing the families gathered around in the very compact sleeper cars. Becoming engaged in conversations where the subject matter was limited but the openness to attempt some understanding was generous. Bob became good friends with our sixth bunkmate by going through the language section of “Lonely Planet” and attempted the local language with his new friend. When they didn’t understand each other, they simply exchanged warm smiles with the unintelligible sounds that were exchanged.

Saved by Excess Luggage...

Nha Trang, Vietnam

June 19, 2007
N 12°14.127
E 109°11.195

The flight from Hoi An to Nha Trang was uneventful, even on the small twin-prop plane. When our plane touched down in Nha Trang we planned to grab our packs and walk the ½ mile to our hotel for the night. Elise took the overnight bus and already scouted out a place for us.

We strapped our packs on our back and thought about the short walk. However, since we now had an extra bag full clothes from Hoi An (bought just for this purpose), we opted to take a cab. The plan is for me to carry back the goods for Bob, Teddy and I when I fly to San Diego next week, and we’ll be back down to our two backpacks and a single day pack again… oh, the sacrifices that must be made in the name of fashion.

As soon as we turned out of the airport we were pleased with our decision to take the cab. The road didn’t have any sidewalks and there were several cars and scooters zipping by. Shortly after making the right turn towards town I saw a sign that said Nha Trang 23 KM. “What the heck?” I said to the crew in the car. It was only supposed to be a half mile from the airport according to our Lonely Planet—it’s a good thing we didn’t try to walk. We would have looked like complete imbeciles stumbling down the remote road and most likely would have succumbed to the heat after 5-10 KM; I could imagine the CNN International News Story… “4 Americans Die in Vietnam, Bag of Tailor Made Clothes May Provide Answers.”

The ride took at least 40 minutes and we were at least 30 minutes late meeting Elise at our pre-determined destination. I quickly explained the situation to her and showed her our book. Elise opened her book, which was published a year after ours in 2006, and showed me where her map said “old Nha Trang Airport.”

Oh well, we made it to Nha Trang after all, not exactly the sleepy beach town we were looking for as thousands of locals sprawled out across the beach, but it was a really good thing we didn’t try to walk.

Whew... A Not So Happy Ending!

Hoi An, Vietnam

June 17, 2007
N 15°53.883
E 108°21.965

Bob raved about the facial, massage and shave he had at a little “spa” near our hotel; he was so relaxed Teddy and I figured we had to have at least a neck and shoulder massage. Bob escorted us to the spa and introduced us to his friends and explained “same, same” for Teddy and I.

We were handed a towel and told to take everything off, but since we were only having our back and shoulders done, or so we thought, we left on our bathing suit bottoms. We came back out, climbed up on the table face-up and Bob’s crew started in on a very relaxing facial. A refreshing cold towel, smelling of fresh cucumber, was placed on my face, instantly cooling me off. This is nice we thought, nice and relaxing.

Next, the young Vietnamese boys, neither weighing more than 90 pounds, did a great job massaging our pectoral muscles, but at times getting a little too close to my big bigs for my comfort. I knew Teddy was a little skeptical since she isn’t big on massages to begin with… plus I was a little confused why my boobs needed massaging when we were only supposed to have our back and shoulders done. After about 15-20 minutes the young boys told us to flip over on our stomachs.

This is when things started to get a little bizarre for my liking. After a thorough gluteus massage, the kid climbed up on the table and stood on my butt. He teetered with one foot on my boot and used the other foot to massage my shoulders. I guess this was better than his hands since he had one long thumb-nail that would occasionally scratch my skin when massaging my shoulders with his petite hands.

The circus act was just a warm up for what was next. He continued with the buttock massage, but it was more like a shaking action… right on my tailbone. As my boot started shimmying I squeezed my cheeks together, not sure if this was supposed to be some sexual thing—I sure the hell hope not, but my quick gluteal reaction stopped him in his tracks, almost bouncing him off the table.

It was all just getting more bizarre by the minute and I finally made an effort to look over my shoulder to see exactly what the little gnat was doing on my back. I looked back and the guy was straddling my thighs, hands on my butt, shaking it in a gyrating motion, but now had a towel over his head. Again, I tensed up the cheeks and he stopped, I peeked over at Teddy lying next to me to see if she was okay with this motion and I could tell from the look of horror on her face, she was not enjoying the performance!

Luckily, the kids quickly wrapped up the massage; we paid and got the hell out of there. We laughed the whole way home, not sure what the whole act was about, but we were happy to share the story with Bob, Elise and Marc. I know we weren’t looking for a happy ending and we didn’t get one!

Shopping Spree in Hoi An...

Hoi An, Vietnam

June 16, 2007
N 15°53.883
E 108°21.965

The bus pulled into Hoi An on Friday around 1:00 PM. The whole gang fell into the steamy air outside and headed towards our preferred hotel. Hoi An is a dusty, but quickly growing little village with broken sidewalks, streets scattered with pot-holes and a bustling clothing industry that quickly sucks you in. It was one of the major trading centers of Southeast Asia from the period of the 15th to 19th centuries and was name into the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1999.

However, today it’s famous for literally hundreds of dress shops lining the streets, sewing machines running 24x7 (except for when the power is out), and it’s very easy to find a petite local woman willing to customize an outfit (or two, or three) for you, and most likely reminding you of your physical insecurities at the same time.

Elise and I immediately set out to scout out a few shops where we just might want to get something made. Our first stop was only half a block down the street from our hotel. I tried on two dresses, they took measurements, and I was told to come back the next day for the final product. Wow, that was easy. Now I need shoes… not a problem. The lady from the dress shop escorted us across the street to a shoe shop. I picked out a shoe, got my feet stenciled, chose fabric, and was told to come back the next day. I was on a roll and couldn’t stop there, we wanted to see what else Hoi An had to offer.

A little further down the street we found another cute dress, they took my measurements, and told me to come back the next day. It was like Vegas for clothing… just one jackpot after another. Now the trick was memorizing all the places I had to come back to and make sure I had enough money to settle my outstanding debts.

The next day, Saturday, was pick up day. Elise, Marc and I headed to the first shop, King Cloth Shop, where I tried on the dresses, they were all a perfect fit. The two sisters pushed hard to sell more clothes to me, Marc and Elise. We politely declined and headed out to pick up the rest of my items.

The next dress, made of silk, turned out perfect, but trying it on was a challenge in the sweltering heat. I was already a sweaty mess and it didn’t help that the power was out throughout the town the entire day (a regular occurrence) meaning NO FANS or AC! I took the dress off as fast as I put it on to prevent the whole thing from being destroyed.

It didn’t stop there… I was hooked.

In the middle of the night I woke up dreaming about the perfect shoes to match the silk dress. The dress highlights my eyes perfectly, emerald green silk with a gold hue, a cream border and embroidery on the bottom. I dreamt of simple cream sandals, a small heel, and embroidery across the toe. You know you’re in deep when you’re dreaming about clothes you can have made.

Why stop there… a little purse made to match the whole ensemble would be perfect, only $7.00. Hit me, hit me again! Just like gambling… now, I had another day of running around and still owing people around town money, but the finished product was well worth it. The best part… the whole outfit cost under $33.

If you visit Hoi An come prepared to get measured and bring a picture of something from your favorite designer, they’ll make it for you… it’s same, same, but different.

Other notes: In between everyone’s dress fittings we rented some bikes and rode the 3.1 miles to the beach. There were a group of young local kids sitting near us taking pictures. After the third time I heard the shutter I had to ask them to stop. I am sure they posted big, big somewhere on the internet.