Time to Go "Home"...

San Francisco, CA/ Ho Chi Minh (Saigon), Vietnam

July 5, 2007
N 10°46.071
E 106°41.665

Since I had to fly through San Francisco three times during my trip to the States, I realized I needed a night in my favorite city in the world—the place I still call home. I jumped off the plane, grabbed my bags, and headed to BART, immediately excited, barely able to contain myself. I was back in San Francisco, even if it was for only 18 hours—I didn’t care.

I immediately felt obligated to help the tourists I encountered on BART trying to figure out their stop… “two more stops until your station,” I told the two Japanese girls holding their USA guide. I reminded them again when we got to Powell Street Station. I love this city I kept saying to nobody in particular after I finally reached my stop and walked down the street.

From BART I caught my “favorite” bus, the Stockton 30, at 6:00 PM the day before a holiday—as usual it was standing room only. I stood still with my large pack doing my best not to knock the people behind me off of their feet. As usual, the majority of the people got off at the two stops through Chinatown, leaving me a little room to maneuver before I exited at Washington Square Park.

The park was as perfect as always, dogs frolicking, bums napping in the sun, and mothers pushing their babies for an afternoon walk. The views of Coit Tower and St. Peter and Paul Church had me again whispering under my breath … this is the best city! I made my way down Columbus Street towards our friend Mike’s house, my home for the night, when I saw a couple tourists trying to read a map. I stopped and helped them, pointed them in the direction of the famous North Beach eateries.

I dumped off my stuff and caught up with Mike before we headed to Giordano Bros. for an All-in-One sandwich (meat, cheese, fries and slaw between two pieces of bread—pure decadence) and Buffalo wings. The live music was already playing when we walked through the doors and I saw Allison holding her beautiful six month old daughter Sadie. The last time I saw Sadie she was 15 days old, a tiny little girl in my arms; now she has a cute personality and giggled when I tickled her belly. I quickly offered to take her for awhile knowing she will be close to a year old next time I see her.

Even though my trip to San Francisco was last minute, Shelby and Dustin were available to meet me for a night in the city. I am so lucky to have such great friends. As we were waiting for Shelby, Dustin, and Dustin’s brother Casey, my good friend Virginia walked into the highly rated sandwich shop. I sent Virginia a message earlier in the day letting her know I would be in town if she had time to meet me. I was ecstatic to see her and everyone else.

We hung out at Giordano Bros. for awhile before heading to Tony Nik’s, another one of my favorite North Beach joints. As we walked to the local watering hole, the area was bustling with tourists, locals and the “bridge and tunnel” crowd. The air was crisp and I quickly put on my light sweater to stop the chill. When the night finally came to an end, I knew I couldn’t be happier with the fantastic evening I had with my friends, in my city. I wanted the evening to last forever, but since I knew I was fighting sleep—it had to come to an end.

In the morning, as the sun shinned brightly over the San Francisco skies, I had some time to grab a coffee at Café Trieste. Luckily, two of my favorite people were working—Paul and Shawn—I gave them warm hellos and goodbyes all at the same time. I had a little one-on-one time with Shelby during our caffeine fix, thanked her for being such a good friend and then she took me to the airport.

After Shelby dropped me off at the San Francisco International terminal, I reflected on my quick visit to the United States. I realized how lucky I am to have such great friends and family and how much I enjoyed my time with each of them during my stay. For some of the people, like my Dad, it included long telephone conversations we haven’t been able to share due to the high cost of international calls. For others, like Jenn, it was sharing a once in a lifetime memory as she starts her new life.

In the end, it took everything to get me back on the plane to Saigon; I felt like I was being torn away from friends and family, but the single most important person—my best friend and family—was what pushed me through and forced me to board the plane. Ten days was definitely a break in the 24x7x365, but like they say… absence makes the heart grow fonder. I am more of the opinion that time together makes us stronger... at least that has been the case to date.

It's Hard to Say "See You Soon"...

Phu Quoc / Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon):

July 4, 2007
N 10°46.071
E 106°41.665

Laura will be back in Ho Chi Minh City tomorrow evening. It has been strange not having her around the past week... we've been together 24x7 since January and this is the longest we've been apart. It has been hard! At the same time, I have extremely fond memories from Phu Quoc. (Pictures will follow soon, please be patient).

I spent 7 nights on the island in a very remote "resort" that had 7 very quaint bungalows ($8 per night); no hot water, electricity was sporadic at best, but the beer was always cool and the food was excellent. Best of all, I made friends I will never forget. The most notable was Ha, a 23 year old Vietnamese girl who I tutored in English for about 3 hours per day.

Over the course of the week we became very good friends. We spoke for hours about our families, friends, childhoods, dreams, religion, and of course our countries. She watched after me like I was her family and not a guest. I will be forever grateful for her friendship and extraordinary hospitality.

Below is my final story (Part III) from the time I spent on Phu Quoc:

A final cup of black coffee with with my friend.
The taste of saline as I hold back tears.
We both try to smile.
Memories of a rare friendship.

The clap of thunder breaks the silence.
Time to go.

No good-byes.
Just a quick hug, a sincere Thank You, and a treasured kiss on the neck.

The motorbike pulls away.
Tears in my eyes.
I force myself to look back.

A final snap-shot.

My friend stands alone, still waving.
See you soon.

Stories From The Beach (Part II)...

Westport, WA U.S.A./Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam

July 3, 2007
Phu Quoc:
N 10°11.124
E 103°57.963

Westport:
N 46°53.270
W 124°06.360

As Marc sits on the beach on a remote island in Vietnam, I am visiting my Mom in Westport, WA as she prepares for the town's 4th of July celebration. The time in the United States definitely broke up the 24x7x365, but I will be back in Saigon in two days to start it all over again!

Here is another one of Marc's stories from the beach:

Behind the gray sky the sun sets.

Waves continue to batter the shore.
Messengers of the next storm.

Twinkle of fishing boats creep across the horizon.
Their day begins.

Wet sand sticks to my feet, another cool beer please, gentle breeze.
My day comes to an end.

Wedding Bells...

San Diego, CA U.S.A./Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam

July 1, 2007
Phu Quoc:
N 10°11.124
E 103°57.963
San Diego:
N 32°43.000
W 117°09.000

I made calls from the San Diego Airport lounge filling people in on the wedding as I waited to board my flight to Seattle. I decided to make a detour to see my Mom and Jim before flying back to Vietnam to be with Marc.

The wedding the night before went off perfectly. The bride and groom exchanged their vows on the bow of the Catamaran, with Jeff Porter as the official and 45 of their friends and family watched the stunningly handsome couple. The happy bride and groom held onto the rail as they put on each other’s rings and kissed. The weather was perfect in the San Diego Harbor, the brilliant sun shining down on the full boat, making a perfect backdrop as the vows were exchanged. There were only a few bumps making some of the guests queasy, as Jenn Porter and Kris Green became Mr. and Mrs. Green.

Marc sent his congratulations from an internet café on Phu Quoc Island. He opted to avoid the very long flight and the anxiety filled days before the wedding as my main job was to keep Jenn calm. I definitely missed him during the romantic day; however, with the slightly choppy water and his weak stomach he made the right decision.

The Catamaran cruised along the bay for another two hours as the guests mingled on the boat. Dinner was served shortly after the ceremony as guests filed in and out of the galley. There were some tears as guests toasted the newlyweds, others choking up, unable to speak in front of the crowd.

As the sun set we pulled back into the dock with the happily married couple. We quickly unloaded the boat before meeting again in the Sheraton lobby bar. When it came time for the couple to leave, I embraced each of them knowing I wouldn’t see them again before my flight. I started to tear up a little bit, but controlled myself.

I was very happy I made it back for the special day. I know it meant a lot to Jenn and Kris, but it also meant a lot to me to see my best friend marry such a wonderful guy—knowing they will live happily ever after.

Marc's Hair Removal...

Meanwhile, as Marc sat on the beach, here is his story of the day:

Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam

N 10°11.124
E 103°57.963

I did get a massage today and the little lady insisted that she help me with my back hair "problem" for a small fee... "no good long hair on back, must take off. Yes, yes, no ouch, very easy." I can't believe I agreed to this idiotic idea, but once it started there seemed to be no turning back. I'm no pussy.

She used what I would consider a manual Epi-Lady. A ball of twine that she would spin around the hair on my back with both hands, one end of the twine was held in her teeth, she would then pull forcefully with her hands and use her teeth to guide a new segment of thread through her fingers... yanking the hairs off my back in a sweeping fashion... pulling at the same hair several times until it finally released.

Needless to say it was the same rare form of Vietnamese torture that I'm sure many of our POW's were subjected to during the war. The whole agonizing event lasted for what I believe to be 35 minutes, not quite sure since I was drifting in and out of consciousness due to the exquisite pain. I was actually laughing at the end of the "treatment"... I couldn’t believe I actually paid to have this little lady sit on my back and rip my hair out. I don't even care if there's hair on my back, but she sure did. She got every single last strand.

After the torture treatment ended I was treated to a full body massage... I think it was good, but anything after the torture I was just subjected to would be nice. She could have poured a can of hot coals on my back and I think I would have breathed a sigh of relieve.

Hair Removal...

San Diego, CA U.S.A./Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam

June 29, 2007

Phu Quoc:

N 10°11.124
E 103°57.963

San Diego:

N 32°43.000

W 117°09.000

As Marc is hanging out on a remote island in Vietnam, I spent the day with Jenn preparing for her big day. The day included a lot of pampering, such as manis/pedis, some last minute errands for the wedding, and a day of recovery after the bachelorette party last night. Even though Marc is 7500 miles away from us, his day on the beach included some pampering too. The main theme of the day… hair removal.

Part of the "pampering" for Jenn included a Brazilian, armpit and eyebrow wax and just the brows for me. As the lady was applying scalding hot wax to Jenn’s delicate skin, Jenn immediately started to question what the hell she was doing. Jenn let out a little yell to let the little lady know the wax was too hot. The lady started blowing on the wax... yes, down there, trying to cool it off a little for Jenn.

The experience went downhill from there as the pain increased with each pull of the wax. Jenn thought about asking her to stop, but there really was no turning back. The wax underneath her armpits wasn’t exactly a walk in the park; this part was fast, but still very painful—making it difficult to put her arms down. This ways she won’t have any stubble under her arms on her wedding day—not that anyone would notice anyway.

When the whole painful process was over, about an hour, Jenn walked out into the lobby and simply said, "dude, I will never f’n do that again." I guess it is a good thing we only get married once. Or, according to Jenn's florist...twice...we weren't sure what this meant.

Meanwhile, as Marc sat on the beach, here is his story of the day:

I did get a massage today and the little lady insisted that she help me with my back hair "problem" for a small fee... "no good long hair on back, must take off. Yes, yes, no ouch, very easy." I can't believe I agreed to this idiotic idea, but once it started there seemed to be no turning back. I'm no pussy.

She used what I would consider a manual Epi-Lady. A ball of twine that she would spin around the hair on my back with both hands, one end of the twine was held in her teeth, she would then pull forcefully with her hands and use her teeth to guide a new segment of thread through her fingers... yanking the hairs off my back in a sweeping fashion... pulling at the same hair several times until it finally released.

Needless to say it was the same rare form of Vietnamese torture that I'm sure many of our POW's were subjected to during the war. The whole agonizing event lasted for what I believe to be 35 minutes, not quite sure since I was drifting in and out of consciousness due to the exquisite pain. I was actually laughing at the end of the "treatment"... I couldn’t believe I actually paid to have this little lady sit on my back and rip my hair out. I don't even care if there's hair on my back, but she sure did. She got every single last strand.

After the torture treatment ended I was treated to a full body massage... I think it was good, but anything after the torture I was just subjected to would be nice. She could have poured a can of hot coals on my back and I think I would have breathed a sigh of relieve.

Stories From The Beach...

Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam

June 28, 2007
N 10°11.124
E 103°57.963

Introduction: As Marc sits on a remote beach in Vietnam writing little stories, I am in San Diego, CA with my friend who is getting married in two days. Sorry, Marc's stories won't have any pictures until I return to Vietnam on 7/5.

Here is one of Marc's stories...

Little boys, big sister and dog scampper down the beach.
Soaked, smiling, sandy.

Coconuts fight to stay at sea.
Floating travelers.
Tide rolls them up and down the shore.
Struggling, exhausted they come to rest.

Unknowingly, sister and brothers aid the stranded travelers.
Laughing, heaving the brown balls back to sea.
As far as their small arms will allow.

Bouncing, bobbing, afloat... again travelers.

Never Say "Goodbye", Say "See You Soon"...

Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), Vietnam

June 25, 2007
N 10°46.071
E 106°41.665

Note: Marc and I will most likely have parallel stories until we are back together on 7/5.

As with most things in life, all good things come to an end, and that includes the American Family Vacation. The five of us traveled in a pack for the last 19 days; Marc, Elise and I for the past month and I think all of us enjoyed every minute of it.

Marc, Elise and I boarded the bus for Saigon at 8:15 AM, leaving Bob and Teddy behind in Dalat. Bob and Teddy are heading to Luang Prabang via Hanoi on the 27th, Elise is heading to Cambodia via the Mekong Delta, Marc to Phu Quac Island and me to San Diego, California for my best friend’s wedding.

We all had so much fun together that saying goodbye was pretty difficult, which is when I reminded everyone to never say goodbye, but to see you soon. We will see everyone again in just a few months when we celebrate Joel and Lisa’s wedding (Marc’s brother).

There were even talks of our next family vacation, hoping more of the family would make it if we gave them plenty of time to save for the trip. The most likely destination for the next trip…South America.

We had one more night with Elise in Saigon; having heavy discussions around what is next for her, a recent college graduate. Marc and I both gave our opinions and reminded her that she has input from plenty of people, including her big brothers and sister-in-law, for any required career counseling. Luckily, she is bright with a good head on her shoulders and will excel in whatever she does.

As the three of us sat around at dinner that night, we realized we are all in the same situation. No jobs, no real commitments and endless possibilities in front of us. I think at this point, our parents just hope we make it home some day soon. If not, everyone else will have to meet us on the road.

For now, we will just say… see you soon.

Love,
Marc and Laura

An Easy Ride(r) in the Countryside...

Dalat, Vietnam

June 24, 2007
N 11°56.529
E 108°26.398

The American Family minus Teddy (she had to take a sick-day) headed out with the Easy Riders again today. This time we were with four of the original Riders. Our leader explained that the four of them were part of the Easy Riders back in 1993-94 and have been giving tours longer than any of the other “young kids”.

We didn’t really know what to expect during our countryside tour after seeing what we thought were a lot of great sights yesterday, but as soon as the wind blew in our faces on the motorcycles and my guide started talking to me, I knew we were in for another treat.

The Riders we had today all fought with the Americans during the war. As each one of them had an opportunity to lead the tour we heard their affection towards Americans as well as their personal impacts and hardships during the war.

One of the men spoke to us under the canopy of a greenhouse, surrounded by carnations and roses about the hardships of the war upon his family. He had tears in his eyes as he described the shot fired by an AK-47 that struck his brother in the heart, killing him instantly, and clearly tearing apart the heart of the man in front of us at the same time. It was a very personal memory he chose to share with us most likely because we are Americans.

As we rode from stunning Pagodas, walked through pine forests, visited greenhouses full of flowers, silk factories, and coffee plantations, the men, all in their late 50s/early 60s passionately talked about the improvements in their country, and possibilities for their children and grandchildren. Excitement in their voices, they talked about the recent visit by George W. Bush to Vietnam and the reciprocal invitation for the president of Vietnam to visit Washington DC. Showing again yesterday was yesterday, and today is today… who knows what tomorrow will bring. But it was clear these guys hope Vietnam will continue to heal and tomorrow will bring prosperity.

Vietnam will definitely be a different place in the near future. They still have a lot of improvements to make, especially around human rights and environmental concerns, but it appears everyone (at least in the South) has the desire to make it a better place tomorrow.

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.