It's that time. The time that we have been both looking forward to and dreading. It is time to go home. Our bags are packed and waiting in the corner, and tomorrow morning, we will take one more taxi, one more ride on the MTR, and we'll check in for one more flight (okay, so we'll have to transfer and check-in in Beijing as well, but you get the picture).
Everyone we know (including ourselves) says that traveling changes your life. Darren says (from his experience in Europe) that there comes a moment right before you get home, where you reflect on everything you've done and contemplate all that you've learned and how you've changed. He also says that I haven't had this moment yet because I've been too busy prematurely thinking about wedding stuff (which is true of course). However, as these last days have approached I've thought about a lot of things. I've thought about the wedding of course, about my favourite experiences, about surviving Darren for six months, and a whole slew of other things.
For example:
I've learned that you can pretty much fit anything on a motorcycle. You've got household furniture that needs to be transported? No problem, strap it to a bike. What about a few oil drums? Done! You've got a couple full grown, live pigs that need to get across the city? Easy! Maybe you're thinking the motorcycle isn't a practical family vehicle. Well, you'd be wrong. You can easily fit mom, dad, auntie, and two or three kids onto a bike, no problem. Whatever you can think of, we've probably seen it being transported through dense traffic in the middle of a busy city, on a motorbike. Those things are amazing.
I've learned that you can use the squat for anything. Number one and number two, well those are obvious. But what if you need to stop and have a long cell phone conversation? Just pop a squat. What about enjoying a midday meal in the rice fields? Squat. What about enjoying an afternoon meal while completely nude? SQUAT! You never need to worry about chairs ever again.
Through our many food adventures, I've learned, as I've mentioned before, that you can get Indian food just about anywhere. I've also learned that I don't look good with love handles.
I've learned that being half Asian is just about the most beneficial thing when traveling in this country. People were constantly confusing us for one of their own. Everywhere we went it was "are you Vietnemese/Thai/Laos/Chinese?" They weren't always sure, but the suspicion was always prevalent. They never know what language to address you in, unless you walked in speaking English, and even then sometimes they'd offer to help you in their native tongue. It's come in handy, especially when we have been able to speak a few words in the local language. Initial asking prices always seemed to be lower for us, or if they weren't, they seemed more inclined to give us a better discount. People on the street have generally been more polite and willing to help us with directions or whatever it is we've needed. I've always felt that when I'm home (in Canada) I'm Filippino and when I'm abroad I'm Canadian. That's still true, but here I get to be both. There's something to be said about always feeling welcome and embraced wherever you are. Sometimes, I suppose locals feel adverse to the invasion of their lives and culture by westerners, especially when some westerners can be very ignorant of local customs and etiquette; but, Darren and I almost always experienced nothing but a warm welcome.
I've also learned, despite the many beauties and pleasantries of all the countries we've visited, that BC is still my home. There are some things I'm going to miss about Asia and traveling, like the incredibly low cost of living, the amazing food, the amazing people, the diversity of life, the carefree living of a traveler, and perpetual tan; but, there are things I wont miss, like the smell of fermented tofu, the spitting and loud talking, having to constantly take a bus or a plane, the complete lack of spacial awareness ("spasian awareness"), wearing clothes that are always wrinkled, and never really having a place to call your own. Some people travel, and they say they never want to go home which I can certainly appreciate, but for me BC is where I belong.
Asia has also helped us appreciate something I think we can never appreciate enough. The sense of community and the importance of the family in Asian culture is far beyond the ideas of the family unit in any other society I've experienced. You don't just hang out with the kid next door around here, you hang out with the entire village. Children run up and down the streets at all hours playing and looking out for one another. The woman down the street is as much a parental figure to a little girl as her own mother. We've met people who are reluctant to embrace the potential for a better life with more opportunities because they're not willing to leave their family. The importance placed on family here really made us miss our own. Darren and I have each other, we are each other's family, and I think that makes traveling for long periods of time easier. Being together, we never feel lonely. We are also fortunate enough to have family and close friends scattered across the globe. Whether it's Hong Kong or Singapore, there are little bits of family abroad to make us feel comfortable and loved. However, we also miss the rest of our family. Eating with just the two of us isn't the same. We've been fortunate enough to live in a time when technology allows us to share our experience with the people we love from so far away, but there were times when it just wasn't enough. Times when you'd say, "This-person would love this!" or "I wish This-person could see this". At the end of the day however, what the Asian family has really taught us, is that no matter how little money or material possessions you have, no matter how hard life can be, a family to share it with makes it all bearable. The richest smiles I've seen were always on the poorest people surrounded by the ones they loved.
We've changed, Darren and I. I know that the people who step onto that plane tomorrow are not the same people who made that same trip 6 months ago. We're bigger people now, literally (our clothes are fitting a little snug and I have real love handles for the first time in my life) but, most of the changes are for the better. We've learned a little more about each other, about ourselves and have grown together, and our views of certain things in this world have changed. I sort of had this naive and egotistical notion when I left that after six months I'd just pick up from where I left off. The first thing that really made me realize that life was still going on back home, despite my absence, was the realization that it would be winter when we returned, as if spring and summer were just going to wait for me to come home. But the world back home has kept going while we've been away, and our lives and our world are going to continue to change once we get home. Our family has changed and the true realization of that fact wont really hit us until we're there to experience it. We're going to have to find a new place to call home and are taking on a room-mate. I'm going back to school in January. We're going to "start" planning a wedding, our wedding. I guess my point comes back to what I first started talking about, that "moment".
I suppose I feel like I haven't had that single moment of reflection yet, because it's not just one particular moment. It may sound cheesy but yes, I feel like life is an adventure. This particular trip is ending but it's not really over. I feel like I'm constantly thinking about what we've done, but also what we're going to do. There are still stories to share and relive, new modes of thought to implement to our lifestyle, and people we've met to keep in touch with. But the first thing I'm going to do when I get home, is take a breathe of fresh hair, and feel the warm loving embrace of family.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
HCMC
HCMC. Holy Congested Motorcycle Chaos! Yes. Ho Chi Mihn City, also known as Saigon, and home to the most motorcycles I've ever seen. I thought Hanoi was bad, but I realized it's just because the streets in the Old Quarter are so narrow. The streets here in Saigon are as wide as any others I've seen and still they're crowded. It's okay though, because during rush hour when the roads look more like a swarm of buzzing bees with helmets, they just use the sidewalk. Darren and I went on the Lonely Planet walking tour and we finished up right around rush hour. We figured walking would be faster than taking a taxi because the traffic was so heavy, but then a piece of that traffic was honking behind me, and another piece was rushing past me. You're not safe anywhere!
We made it out alive however and managed to see quite a bit. The walking tour includes a lot of Saigon's various historical sights and museums. We didn't get the earliest start and we didn't make it to all of them but the city definitely does have a lot to offer. The most memorable for us, which I think is the same for most people, was the War Remnants Museum. It's more of a photo gallery than a museum but I found that that made it that much more moving. The exhibition on the ground floor, put together by Tim Page (as I understood from the guidebook) is incredible. Not to say that the rest of the exhibit isn't incredible, but that first floor really shook me. I took a photograph of the first photograph that struck me (in the Picassa album), but the rest were so horrific I couldn't bring myself to take pictures of those as well. It's such a sombre and shocking experience; not because it was the most gruesome war in the history of the world, but because of how well documented it was (publicly). There was this one image of a soldier holding the destroyed remains (including an arm, head and a bit of everything in between) which was devastating, and another of women and children's bodies laying on the ground with the caption, "Women and children who tried to get away."
Some say that the exhibit is one sided (but really, why shouldn't it be?). I would beg to differ. Maybe it depicts more of the Vietnamese casualties than the American or French, but what side these people belonged to doesn't really seem to be the point. The exhibit certainly doesn't hold back in blaming the US or other armies in it's captions and introductions and the display of propaganda is plentiful; but, if you go through the exhibit (as I did) reading little of the words and just taking in the photographs themselves, what you really see, are people. People and bombs and destruction and grief and death. The war wasn't just the Vietnamese against the US or the French, but it was often the Vietnamese against the Vietnamese. What the exhibit really highlighted for me was simply the pains of war.
During the entire viewing of the exhibit all I could feel was sadness, and all I could think of was the impact of each and every one of those photos and of the role of the photographer. Some of the photographs were of the photographers and the last images of them before they were killed. The photographers who survived wrote descriptions for the images in the museum. I don't normally like statements or descriptions (hence why I rarely take the time to read them), and most of the time I don't even like/read titles. With a lot of the pictures you didn't need a description or title to understand; however, there were a few pictures I couldn't help but want to know more about. There was one image of a girl in the midst of total destruction, mouth wide open, with a look of terror on her face. According to the write-up she was running away from an attack, running as her home was in flames, screaming 'Mommy! Mommy!' The picture alone was heart breaking, there was so much anguish in her face, but that description (which I did no justice to) nearly brought me to tears. There was another of children crying and running naked down the street, with soldiers in the background, and a small mother-daughter portrait added in the corner. The write-up explained who the central figure (a young girl) was and that she was struck by a napalm bomb. There were others, even more horrific and violent and disturbing.
The museum also had an exhibit commemorating Hanoi's 1000 year anniversary. They had images of the old and the new. Hanoi during the war and Hanoi today. It was hopeful, seeing pictures of despair juxtaposed with pictures of new life. There was one image in particular that I remember, it was of a little girl. It was simple. Just a little girl, standing on a boat beside a basket of shellfish, but she had the biggest brightest eyes and the happiest smile. It was beautiful.
If you ever get the chance. Go see it. Between the heart breaking photos inside, and all the tanks, bomb shells and war machines outside, it really is a unique experience. I've never seen anything like it before in my life (maybe I'm a little sheltered) and it really is an eye opener.
(Side note: In it's brief description of Vietnam's extensive history the guidebook suggests that if the US had bothered to pay any attention to that history a lot of lives could have been saved. At one point some of the Vietnamese even took up the slogan "Independence or Death". No matter how few people they had, or how few resources, the Vietnamese have always refused to surrender.)
We made it out alive however and managed to see quite a bit. The walking tour includes a lot of Saigon's various historical sights and museums. We didn't get the earliest start and we didn't make it to all of them but the city definitely does have a lot to offer. The most memorable for us, which I think is the same for most people, was the War Remnants Museum. It's more of a photo gallery than a museum but I found that that made it that much more moving. The exhibition on the ground floor, put together by Tim Page (as I understood from the guidebook) is incredible. Not to say that the rest of the exhibit isn't incredible, but that first floor really shook me. I took a photograph of the first photograph that struck me (in the Picassa album), but the rest were so horrific I couldn't bring myself to take pictures of those as well. It's such a sombre and shocking experience; not because it was the most gruesome war in the history of the world, but because of how well documented it was (publicly). There was this one image of a soldier holding the destroyed remains (including an arm, head and a bit of everything in between) which was devastating, and another of women and children's bodies laying on the ground with the caption, "Women and children who tried to get away."
Some say that the exhibit is one sided (but really, why shouldn't it be?). I would beg to differ. Maybe it depicts more of the Vietnamese casualties than the American or French, but what side these people belonged to doesn't really seem to be the point. The exhibit certainly doesn't hold back in blaming the US or other armies in it's captions and introductions and the display of propaganda is plentiful; but, if you go through the exhibit (as I did) reading little of the words and just taking in the photographs themselves, what you really see, are people. People and bombs and destruction and grief and death. The war wasn't just the Vietnamese against the US or the French, but it was often the Vietnamese against the Vietnamese. What the exhibit really highlighted for me was simply the pains of war.
During the entire viewing of the exhibit all I could feel was sadness, and all I could think of was the impact of each and every one of those photos and of the role of the photographer. Some of the photographs were of the photographers and the last images of them before they were killed. The photographers who survived wrote descriptions for the images in the museum. I don't normally like statements or descriptions (hence why I rarely take the time to read them), and most of the time I don't even like/read titles. With a lot of the pictures you didn't need a description or title to understand; however, there were a few pictures I couldn't help but want to know more about. There was one image of a girl in the midst of total destruction, mouth wide open, with a look of terror on her face. According to the write-up she was running away from an attack, running as her home was in flames, screaming 'Mommy! Mommy!' The picture alone was heart breaking, there was so much anguish in her face, but that description (which I did no justice to) nearly brought me to tears. There was another of children crying and running naked down the street, with soldiers in the background, and a small mother-daughter portrait added in the corner. The write-up explained who the central figure (a young girl) was and that she was struck by a napalm bomb. There were others, even more horrific and violent and disturbing.
The museum also had an exhibit commemorating Hanoi's 1000 year anniversary. They had images of the old and the new. Hanoi during the war and Hanoi today. It was hopeful, seeing pictures of despair juxtaposed with pictures of new life. There was one image in particular that I remember, it was of a little girl. It was simple. Just a little girl, standing on a boat beside a basket of shellfish, but she had the biggest brightest eyes and the happiest smile. It was beautiful.
If you ever get the chance. Go see it. Between the heart breaking photos inside, and all the tanks, bomb shells and war machines outside, it really is a unique experience. I've never seen anything like it before in my life (maybe I'm a little sheltered) and it really is an eye opener.
(Side note: In it's brief description of Vietnam's extensive history the guidebook suggests that if the US had bothered to pay any attention to that history a lot of lives could have been saved. At one point some of the Vietnamese even took up the slogan "Independence or Death". No matter how few people they had, or how few resources, the Vietnamese have always refused to surrender.)
Monday, October 18, 2010
Food for Thought
It should come as no surprise to anyone that Darren and I like to eat. I mean, our blog title and our blog address both reference food. We've had numerous conversations with friends and fellow travelers about how we think it's only right that people eat their way through the countries they visit. "Half the experience of a country is in its food". We're not the only people who think this, but somehow I feel like we do WAY more eating than other people. Especially in small towns like this.
Mui Ne is one of those small beach town destinations. One of those places that locals come to for a weekend getaway. In places like this, there's not a lot to do. We did a hike up the "Fairy Spring" and today we went sliding down the sand dunes; but otherwise, when we're not sitting by the pool soaking up sun or playing dominoes, we're planning on where to eat our next meal. Breakfast is always the same once we find somewhere we like, but we sometimes plan 2-3 days worth of meals at a time.
Mui Ne has everything. There seems to be a large Russian/Czech population so that's something different to choose from. There's an excellent selection of "international"/western food and local Vietnemese food, and the best part of a beach town are the beach side fresh seafood barbecues... I'm drooling just thinking about it all.
Darren and I are particularly fond of Indian food, and you can seriously get that stuff (in varying degrees) anywhere. We were on a slow boat for 2 days in Laos and when we stopped in a tiny river town called Pak Beng, there were Indian restaurants everywhere. So of course, we had no problem finding a fantastic Indian restaurant here in Mui Ne.
I'm pretty sure that anyone watching us eat tonight would think we hadn't eaten in weeks. The waitresses were actually watching us in utter amazement. We've noticed over the last couple days that when food is placed in front of us, we destroy it. We eat like a couple ravenous dogs, but when the food is as good as the food at Ganesh, we can't help but turn into animals. I think Darren once timed us, and it took us 5 minutes to polish off several plates of food. Tonight was probably a record. Darren was even eating the left over sauce from our butter chicken by the spoon-fulls. No naan, no rice, nothing. Just spoon-fulls of creamy, buttery deliciousness. If the waitress hadn't come to clear our plates I don't doubt Darren would've licked the whole platter clean. We astonished even ourselves tonight.
(Not a word of a lie: I just realised I have a little butter chicken sauce stuck under one of my nails, and yes, I did wash my hands.)
So here I sit, with a wonderful little quote I heard on "Friends" stuck in my head: "A moment on the lips, forever on the hips." I guess it's a good thing Darren and I eat so fast that sometimes the food doesn't even touch our lips! (Yes, we've put on some weight.)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Beautiful British Columbia
As I was basking in the first bit of sun we've seen since we got to Mui Ne and listening to some good tunes I found myself missing a luxury of home. It may seem absurd to miss anything whilst lying in the sun with the pool to your left and the ocean to your right, the sun and wind in perfect harmony to still get a tan without getting too hot... but I miss driving. Yes, of all things. I miss driving with the windows down and the sun shining, singing away to my favourite driving songs. Whether it was driving from Coquitlam to Abbotsford for school, or just the fifteen minute drive to work. I enjoy those few minutes of solitude with me and my music and the coolness of the wind (our vehicle is simple and does not have AC). That is of course on an agreeable traffic day when I'm not running late or being postponed by dense traffic or an accident, but on good days, I really do enjoy a good drive. We rent motorbikes on occasion, but it's not the same (helmets ruin my hair and there's no music). The drive up to Prince George is a regular thing for us and the summer drive is just beautiful. Nothing quite compares to the feeling of a loaded IPod and the beauty of the canyon on a summer's day. That's one thing Darren and I can fully agree on when we're reflecting and comparing: there is no beauty like the beauty of BC. As the days roll by we can't help but think about how soon it'll be before we're home. There are things I don't want to leave, but I do look forward to taking that breath of fresh BC air and enjoying a long, music-filled drive.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
"Tropical Tastes and warm breezes"
Read this in a menu at an art cafe yesterday. It sums up what we're feeling, about these last days, perfectly.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
"Whatever You Like We Do For You"
Okay. So the only person who actually said this to us did not deliver, but that's beside the point.
Hoi An. The city of tailor made... anything. Aside from the fact that the city is quaint, beautiful and picturesque it is most well known for its surplus of tailors. You can actually get anything made in this city. Belts, shoes, purses, suits, dresses, shirts, ties... "whatever you like". It's unreal... actually! In a lot of ways it's like a living dream.
There are so many shops however, that it can be a little overwhelming. There's a tailor next door to our hotel, and one right across the street, beside that is a restaurant and beside that is a shoe shop, then another tailor, and another, and another, and... well, you get the point.
We were not wholly unprepared! We had met a delightful couple in Cat Ba who were doing Vietnam in the opposite direction as us and had already been to Hoi An and done the tailoring thing. Since they already knew what a nightmare trying to find a good tailor could be, they recommended one to us. Her name is Bee. Her shop is one of the less prestigious ones, situated in the "Cloth Shop" market, but she could not have been more fantastic. Despite spending three hours in her shop the first day, we started small. She did such a fantastic job on that first order that every time we went back for a "fitting" we ended up ordering more... and more... and more.
To give you an idea, we were only going to stay for a maximum of four days, we've been here for six. Our six days consisted of (between both Darren and myself):
2 suits, both with an extra pair of pants
4 pairs of jeans
7 men's dress shirts
4 blouses
2 blazers
2 winter coats
1 fall/spring jacket
2 pairs of sandals
2 pairs of casual shoes
1 pair of dress shoes
1 pair of stilettos
and a bunch of ties.
To sum up... we're broke, but we look good!
Okay. So not everything we purchased HAD to be "tailor-made". But it's hard to stop when everything is custom made to fit you. You pick the design, you pick the fabric, the details... EVERYTHING! Go figure, I like to be in control ;)
Bee is far too amazing for words. There is another woman (from Vancouver) helping Bee establish a website so she can continue business with her clients overseas. We basically assured her that we were adding ourselves to her list. I can't say enough wonderful things about that woman's work! (Okay, so she doesn't actually do the sewing. It's a family run business and she's the face, the middle-man, but she's darn good at her job.) She's also about 4 foot nothing and the teeniest, cutest thing ever!
The website is in progress: The Sewing Bee
Hoi An. The city of tailor made... anything. Aside from the fact that the city is quaint, beautiful and picturesque it is most well known for its surplus of tailors. You can actually get anything made in this city. Belts, shoes, purses, suits, dresses, shirts, ties... "whatever you like". It's unreal... actually! In a lot of ways it's like a living dream.
There are so many shops however, that it can be a little overwhelming. There's a tailor next door to our hotel, and one right across the street, beside that is a restaurant and beside that is a shoe shop, then another tailor, and another, and another, and... well, you get the point.
We were not wholly unprepared! We had met a delightful couple in Cat Ba who were doing Vietnam in the opposite direction as us and had already been to Hoi An and done the tailoring thing. Since they already knew what a nightmare trying to find a good tailor could be, they recommended one to us. Her name is Bee. Her shop is one of the less prestigious ones, situated in the "Cloth Shop" market, but she could not have been more fantastic. Despite spending three hours in her shop the first day, we started small. She did such a fantastic job on that first order that every time we went back for a "fitting" we ended up ordering more... and more... and more.
To give you an idea, we were only going to stay for a maximum of four days, we've been here for six. Our six days consisted of (between both Darren and myself):
2 suits, both with an extra pair of pants
4 pairs of jeans
7 men's dress shirts
4 blouses
2 blazers
2 winter coats
1 fall/spring jacket
2 pairs of sandals
2 pairs of casual shoes
1 pair of dress shoes
1 pair of stilettos
and a bunch of ties.
To sum up... we're broke, but we look good!
Okay. So not everything we purchased HAD to be "tailor-made". But it's hard to stop when everything is custom made to fit you. You pick the design, you pick the fabric, the details... EVERYTHING! Go figure, I like to be in control ;)
Bee is far too amazing for words. There is another woman (from Vancouver) helping Bee establish a website so she can continue business with her clients overseas. We basically assured her that we were adding ourselves to her list. I can't say enough wonderful things about that woman's work! (Okay, so she doesn't actually do the sewing. It's a family run business and she's the face, the middle-man, but she's darn good at her job.) She's also about 4 foot nothing and the teeniest, cutest thing ever!
The website is in progress: The Sewing Bee
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
It's All Relative
Today, Darren and I enjoyed a wonderful day of motorcycle tourism, exploring the ancient city of Hué, but more on that soon.
A report recently came out (viewed on MSN) rating the most expensive provinces to live in Canada. As you might guess, BC was the top province on that list. Along with that report was also a list of the most expensive cities and Vancouver took the top spot as the most expensive city. According to that report homeowners in Vancouver required approximately 75% of their incomes to provide for their average living expenses; while, the homeowners of Toronto, which came is second, required approximately 50% of their incomes.
This evening we met a young man (23 yrs old), a waiter at a restaurant, who looked extremely exhausted. After having invited him to sit down with us (we were the only customers in the restaurant) we got to talking and discovered that he (like so many) is working “part-time” while trying to continue his university studies. His version of “part-time” was working 10 hours a day, every day. Most days he starts at 5 am and ends at 2 (working for a tour company), and he makes 50,000 VND a day (about $2-3). One month of courses for him, is 1 million VND ($50). (If he were to go to school full-time, it would take him 3 years to finish his studies in tourism.) His rent is 300,000 VND ($15) for a small room. On top of his rent, he also has to pay utilities and all the other expected living expenses we all incur. Basically, at the end of the month his “money is very small. Not so good”.
We did a little comparison. For one semester of school in BC, Nghia could go to school for 4-5 years; for one month of rent in Vancouver Nghia could go to school for over 1 year. (Education in Vietnam, by the way, is not free. Children/their families even have to pay for primary school.)
People in BC have long been advocating to raise minimum wage, claiming that the current $8 at full-time hours isn’t enough to pay for a person’s basic needs; and, with the latest numbers, that’s probably true. I wonder if anyone is advocating for the people in Vietnam, since they don’t have the opportunity to vote and choose their own government. Or, like our friend Nghia, maybe they’ve come to accept their only option and work like dogs to get by. In any case, how is it that our one city has become so expensive, while cities on the other side of the world could survive for an entire year on what we do for a month? There are a million and one things to consider, but it all just seems rather amazing to me.
A report recently came out (viewed on MSN) rating the most expensive provinces to live in Canada. As you might guess, BC was the top province on that list. Along with that report was also a list of the most expensive cities and Vancouver took the top spot as the most expensive city. According to that report homeowners in Vancouver required approximately 75% of their incomes to provide for their average living expenses; while, the homeowners of Toronto, which came is second, required approximately 50% of their incomes.
This evening we met a young man (23 yrs old), a waiter at a restaurant, who looked extremely exhausted. After having invited him to sit down with us (we were the only customers in the restaurant) we got to talking and discovered that he (like so many) is working “part-time” while trying to continue his university studies. His version of “part-time” was working 10 hours a day, every day. Most days he starts at 5 am and ends at 2 (working for a tour company), and he makes 50,000 VND a day (about $2-3). One month of courses for him, is 1 million VND ($50). (If he were to go to school full-time, it would take him 3 years to finish his studies in tourism.) His rent is 300,000 VND ($15) for a small room. On top of his rent, he also has to pay utilities and all the other expected living expenses we all incur. Basically, at the end of the month his “money is very small. Not so good”.
We did a little comparison. For one semester of school in BC, Nghia could go to school for 4-5 years; for one month of rent in Vancouver Nghia could go to school for over 1 year. (Education in Vietnam, by the way, is not free. Children/their families even have to pay for primary school.)
People in BC have long been advocating to raise minimum wage, claiming that the current $8 at full-time hours isn’t enough to pay for a person’s basic needs; and, with the latest numbers, that’s probably true. I wonder if anyone is advocating for the people in Vietnam, since they don’t have the opportunity to vote and choose their own government. Or, like our friend Nghia, maybe they’ve come to accept their only option and work like dogs to get by. In any case, how is it that our one city has become so expensive, while cities on the other side of the world could survive for an entire year on what we do for a month? There are a million and one things to consider, but it all just seems rather amazing to me.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
34 Hours.
On Monday, October 4th at approximately 1500 hrs Darren and I boarded a bus from Cat Ba to the port. At 1600 hrs we boarded a boat from the port to Haiphong. At 1645 hrs we got off the boat and onto another bus which was to take us to the long distance bus station. At 1730 hrs we arrived at the long distance bus station. After watching a man pee in a canal and then continue to wash his face, hands, and feet in the same place he had just peed we boarded a bus to Hue at 1930 hrs-- expected arrival time: 0730 hrs Tuesday, October 5th. At 0500 hrs Tuesday, October 5th, the bus stopped in the middle of Ky Anh (which we discovered much later). At 0730 hrs everyone got off the bus, washed their faces, brushed their teeth and ate breakfast. At approximately 0900 hrs, we re-boarded the bus. At 1100 hrs after I had finished my book and the bus had not yet moved, I got off. At 1130 hrs everyone (our bus plus the other two that had arrived) ate lunch. At 1200 hrs we figured out what was going on. Flooding (at this point it had been raining for 6-8 hrs). At 1400 hrs we watched "I Love You, Man". At 1600 hrs we finished watching "I Love You, Man" and tried to see if we could hire a car or find a flight from a nearby city. At 1630 hrs, after many "do you speak English"es, no luck. At 1700 hrs we began watching "How To Train Your Dragon". At 1720 hrs, we got back on the bus. We proceeded to drive through what can only be described as small lakes, while watching people push their cars and motorcycles through the waist high water. At 2300 hrs we stopped for dinner (20km away from Hue). At 2330 we got back on the bus. At 0005 hrs we and are soaked bags arrived in Hue. At 0010 hrs we straddled the backs of some strangemen and their motorbikes. At 0025 hrs we arrived at a hotel and the driver of one of the bikes proceeded to shout and wake up the guard. At 0100 hrs we unpacked our wet bags, hung up our wet clothes and went to bed.
What does it all add up to? 34 hours of my life I will never get back, and 10 minutes of your life that you'll never get back!
What does it all add up to? 34 hours of my life I will never get back, and 10 minutes of your life that you'll never get back!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
"I Feel Like A Pirate"
One of the staple things to do in the Cat Ba/Halong Bay area is to take a boat around the bay, either for a day trip of kayaking and swimming, or for an overnight cruise amongst the karst cliffs. We opted for the overnight cruise. 2 days, 1 night, and not five minutes from the dock and Darren said, "I feel like a pirate". It was a great experience and we definitely lucked out with some amazing weather and managed to redeem our fading tans.
The two days consisted mostly of sitting on the top deck of the boat, riding from one location to the next. Stops would include kayaking amidst and under the karst cliffs, swimming on empty, white sand beaches and, having dinner with Vietnemese naval captains!
Throughout the bays there are all of these small fishing villages that live entirely on the water. Many of them also double as small fish farms, and these small floating communities are clustered all over the place. It was on one of these small fish farm living spaces that we docked for the night. The "captain" of our boat, also a former captain of the Vietnemese Navy, invited us to dine with some of his friends. Our company for the evening consisted of 2 naval captains from Haiphong (a nearby port city), a captain from Cat Ba (the island we had been staying on), amongst other naval officers. Before we even started to eat, the captain (from Cat Ba) began pouring us shots of the local whisky. Not wanting to be rude or refuse we kept with their customs. Unfortunately (but not detrimentally), it seemed their custom to take a shot with every new comer to the table. This wasn't weak store bought liqueur they were pouring us, it was home made rice whisky which was contained in any sort of bottle (there was a bottle of green tea, a bottle of vodka, and small jug that said "milk" on it). By 715 I was already asking them to pour me half shots, and by 730 and I was asking to be poured nothing. It all happened so quickly and before we knew it, all our friends were red and flushed and I was feeling quite free to giggle in excess.
Once we finally began eating (more to balance out the ratio of whisky in our stomachs) something similar happened and food seemed to be in endless supply. The food our "captain" had cooked for us was already laid out on the table and more than enough (squid, egg, spring rolls, cucumber and tomato, rice, fried potatoes...). The first strange thing was when the Cat Ba captain began to feed us. At first he just put a spring roll in our bowls, and then rice. But then he did something very odd happened. When what I assume were the suboordinate/younger officers brought out some fish, the Cat Ba captain removed a piece with his chopsticks and held it above my mouth. He didn't just put food in my bowl but was actually putting food IN MY MOUTH! And then, just when I thought that was strange and uncomfortable (especially since I was the only woman on this floating accomodation) the Cat Ba captain proceeded to do the same to Darren, and eventually got around to doing it for everyone at the table, and more than once as the pluthera of seafood continued to expand. By the end of dinner we had been fed (amongst other things) fried fish, mussels, and barbecued prawns--all excellent! It was some of the best seafood we've had since Malaysia.
Despite having eaten and drunk as much as was humanly possible, and despite being more than content, the fun was not over yet. No fun-filled Vietnemese night could be complete without a round of karaoke and dancing, and I'm sure it would have been more than rude to decline. The great thing about Vietnemese karaoke (or any Asian form of entertainment for that matter), is that the television is often an old, small model-- in this case it was probably about a 19" television--but the stereo system takes up an entire room (and there isn't really any to spare when you're leaving on a floating house). The amp alone was bigger than the tv. So, with BLARING sound and a tiny tv the evening got started with some Vietnemese tunes! (At this point, our Cat Ba captain had gotten the hiccups quite badly and gone to sleep.) They were more than insistent that Darren and I be the main act and the songs they most longed to hear were "My Heart Will Go On", "Hotel California", "Hello", "Get Down" and anything by Michael Jackson (to name a few).
The night also included a friendly match of arm wrestling between Darren and one of the buffer naval officers. Poor Darren didn't stand a chance. The guy looked like he was barely trying and Darren looked like he was struggling vigorously. I think it was 930 when Darren and I finally gave up and when our Haiphong captain began dancing blissfully by himself. They all wished us a "happy" night and sleep and they place suddenly became very quiet.
The whole trip was pretty fantastic and getting to party with some high ranking locals was a treat. Our trip may have been a little more luxurious than that of a pirate, and there was no pillaging or treasure hunting, but Darren did scope out some good places to hide treasure if we ever find any.
The two days consisted mostly of sitting on the top deck of the boat, riding from one location to the next. Stops would include kayaking amidst and under the karst cliffs, swimming on empty, white sand beaches and, having dinner with Vietnemese naval captains!
Throughout the bays there are all of these small fishing villages that live entirely on the water. Many of them also double as small fish farms, and these small floating communities are clustered all over the place. It was on one of these small fish farm living spaces that we docked for the night. The "captain" of our boat, also a former captain of the Vietnemese Navy, invited us to dine with some of his friends. Our company for the evening consisted of 2 naval captains from Haiphong (a nearby port city), a captain from Cat Ba (the island we had been staying on), amongst other naval officers. Before we even started to eat, the captain (from Cat Ba) began pouring us shots of the local whisky. Not wanting to be rude or refuse we kept with their customs. Unfortunately (but not detrimentally), it seemed their custom to take a shot with every new comer to the table. This wasn't weak store bought liqueur they were pouring us, it was home made rice whisky which was contained in any sort of bottle (there was a bottle of green tea, a bottle of vodka, and small jug that said "milk" on it). By 715 I was already asking them to pour me half shots, and by 730 and I was asking to be poured nothing. It all happened so quickly and before we knew it, all our friends were red and flushed and I was feeling quite free to giggle in excess.
Once we finally began eating (more to balance out the ratio of whisky in our stomachs) something similar happened and food seemed to be in endless supply. The food our "captain" had cooked for us was already laid out on the table and more than enough (squid, egg, spring rolls, cucumber and tomato, rice, fried potatoes...). The first strange thing was when the Cat Ba captain began to feed us. At first he just put a spring roll in our bowls, and then rice. But then he did something very odd happened. When what I assume were the suboordinate/younger officers brought out some fish, the Cat Ba captain removed a piece with his chopsticks and held it above my mouth. He didn't just put food in my bowl but was actually putting food IN MY MOUTH! And then, just when I thought that was strange and uncomfortable (especially since I was the only woman on this floating accomodation) the Cat Ba captain proceeded to do the same to Darren, and eventually got around to doing it for everyone at the table, and more than once as the pluthera of seafood continued to expand. By the end of dinner we had been fed (amongst other things) fried fish, mussels, and barbecued prawns--all excellent! It was some of the best seafood we've had since Malaysia.
Despite having eaten and drunk as much as was humanly possible, and despite being more than content, the fun was not over yet. No fun-filled Vietnemese night could be complete without a round of karaoke and dancing, and I'm sure it would have been more than rude to decline. The great thing about Vietnemese karaoke (or any Asian form of entertainment for that matter), is that the television is often an old, small model-- in this case it was probably about a 19" television--but the stereo system takes up an entire room (and there isn't really any to spare when you're leaving on a floating house). The amp alone was bigger than the tv. So, with BLARING sound and a tiny tv the evening got started with some Vietnemese tunes! (At this point, our Cat Ba captain had gotten the hiccups quite badly and gone to sleep.) They were more than insistent that Darren and I be the main act and the songs they most longed to hear were "My Heart Will Go On", "Hotel California", "Hello", "Get Down" and anything by Michael Jackson (to name a few).
The night also included a friendly match of arm wrestling between Darren and one of the buffer naval officers. Poor Darren didn't stand a chance. The guy looked like he was barely trying and Darren looked like he was struggling vigorously. I think it was 930 when Darren and I finally gave up and when our Haiphong captain began dancing blissfully by himself. They all wished us a "happy" night and sleep and they place suddenly became very quiet.
The whole trip was pretty fantastic and getting to party with some high ranking locals was a treat. Our trip may have been a little more luxurious than that of a pirate, and there was no pillaging or treasure hunting, but Darren did scope out some good places to hide treasure if we ever find any.
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