The Tale of the Dong

As I wait for my transfer bus to Kampot, Cambodia, I have a chance to tally up the traveler's tale. The biggest complaint one heard about Vietnam is that of foreigners being over- charged. And it's true, this happens.

The market women are shrewd bargainers and this is a poor country. Cafe owners will nick a tourist if they feel they can. I had the owner if a cafe try to nick me for 3,000 dong in change until his wife barked at him and then he sheepishly handed it over. Put in context of that one meal, it would have cost $ 1.00 instead of ninety cents.

So you can be diligent all the time or you can relax and let a few go. It's up to you. But consider the final loose tally I will share.

Ten days ago I took 9,000,000 Dong out of an ATM at the Saigon Airport. I have spent nothing else for the last ten-plus days. This includes all meals, all transport, all lodging, tours and Fergusons. I have not used a credit card for anything. I still have well over two million Dong left, even after paying for my visa in Dong.

So, more than ten days ( losing track ) cost me about seven million dong. About $ 320. To be fair, I booked my Saigon hotel online, so add $ 45 to the total. $ 365 for ten days. Try living in Europe on $ 36 bucks a day.

I'm not even that careful. Being a "Flashpacker" I don't have to count every Dong. I know what a $ 5 a-night dorm bunk looks like. No thanks. So if you were willing to pinch a bit, that $ 36 a day could drop pretty quickly.

Sure, I paid too much here and there. They are welcome to it. I have no complaints.

Ha Tien Scenes

Pagodas, Tombs and Parades

I have the morning to myself so it's time for walk-about. I was looking for a pagoda, the tombs of the towns Hero general, and a coffee. I found all three and more including a parade.

This area had been Vietnamese, Khmer, attacked by the Thai, disputed, and in recent history suffered from the Khmer Rouge. In 1978 tens of thousands of people fled this area as the Khmer Rouge teenaged troops ravaged across the Cambodian border. 158 local people were massacred just outside of Ha Tien.

The tombs on the hill are those of the Mac Cuu and his descendants. Centuries ago he was the head man in this area. Apparently the dynasty continued until recently.

Ha Tien

After scrounging up the visa office, I surrendered my passport and $ 27 for the pleasure of crossing the border into Cambodia.

All that paperwork is hungry work so it was time for brekkie. Shrimp noodles, the cornerstone of a nutritious first meal.

Travel Gods

So I splurged. So sue me. My arrogance interested the travel Gods and so the day.

No one in Cam Tho could give me the real deal on a bus to Ha Tien. Too lazy to hike out to the bus station, I used a travel stall to book a bus. All good and it included a pick up by vomit van.

The van is on time and we dashed about town to gather others and then, what's this, out the wrong end of town. Well, of course silly rabbit. I booked on the fancy bus, complete with TV at full volume with Vietnamese Boy Bands. Ah, Marcos rules for rough travel: earplugs.

A fancy bus on a small Vietnam road is still a slow bus. Three hours to Rach Gia and then..... No bus on.

Moto guys chasing me in circles as I look for a bus, travel gods laughing, and finally, oh yes, the OTHER bus station. Across town. 10 km across town. Back to the cheap buses where I belong.

Hard negotiation gets us to 80,000 dong and were off with my stupid mandatory skull cap helmet that is five sizes too small perched on top of my head. A fine fool I look, but it really is 10 k and I almost feel guilty at the price.

As we pull in, the Ha Tien local is pulling out. A Greek chorus of "HaTien, Ha Tien" echoes from everyone and I am most bodily carried to the bus and thrown on, albeit very gently.

Back on the Local!!! Travel Gods Appeased. And several hours later, I see limestone karats thrusting out of the level land into the evening sky. I am leaving the Delta. This is the Gulf of Thailand, on the border with Cambodia.

Bus Buddy

A long travel day of which I will blog on later. I am now in Ha Tien on the Gulf oh Thailand near the Cambodian border.

My bus buddy made the ride better.

Can Tho Morning

After Brekkie, I was strolling back to the Hotel. As I looked at all of the food stalls, already doing a brisk business at 7 AM, I realized that there is never any doubt where your food comes from here in Vietnam. It is right out there on display.

As a side note, i did go to one supermarket here in Can Tho. Brand spanking new, very weird, and I was struck by the thought of "Why would anyone shop here?" But there were people in there. I did notice that one of the big sellers were Costco sized carts of beer. But really, I mean, shrink wrapped produce in Vietnam? What the hell. You can't take three steps in the street without tripping over a produce stand of some sort.

Today I am leaving Can Tho for Ha Tien, near the Cambodian border. If not, I will make it at least as far as Rach Gia. I saved myself some grief and extra waiting by booking the ticket ahead. The convenience of doing this cost me 20,000 Dong. Yuppers, one buck. Saved me two hours of waiting at the bus station.

Ciao for now. I believe that Wifi is going to start to get a little more difficult for awhile, so you will be spared some of the frequency of my posts. Be well.

Floating IV

Scenes from the back water canals

Floating III

Scenes from Walk-About during the boat trip.

Floating III

More Market Scenes

Floating II

The Noodle Factory, where my favorite food comes from.

And, don't try this sharp knife trick while in a moving boat. Let Ha do this. She is a highly trained professional.

Floating

Can Tho is about floating markets. These markets on water allow local folks to buy, sell, and trade produce, meats, fish, household goods and, yes, even lottery tickets. We set out a 5:30 AM, with my lovely Ferguson Ha Nguhia picking me up at the hotel. Together we walked into the darkness to find the boat.

It was a seven hour cruise. I had hired the boat so I could be alone for the other task that the day required. The first stop was a floating market about one hour from Can Tho. This market deals more in bulk goods, selling produce to smaller traders who then ply the rivers and canals, re-selling to homes and businesses along the way. The floating market is just that. Traders stick whatever they are selling on a long pole and then hoist it like a flag. Bananas, pineapple, yams, all dangling from tall sticks above the boats.

Our next stop was a noodle factory, owned by someone's friend or relation. This is a pretty typical format for tours, but because we had started very early and I had a boat to myself as well as a Ferguson, it was very pleasant. How else was I going to see the markets?

The second market was much more intimate, hours away from town and most tourists, and consisted mostly of very small boats. It was amazing, with jostling boats, money and goods changing hands, even meals and drinks being sold. This second market was the highlight of the day. The floating markets are disappearing as bridges and infrastructure improvements mean more and more goods go by road. For now however, there are still active markets that are going strong and this is known as one of the best.

The rest of the seven hour cruise was through backwater canals, weaving in and under small footbridges and dodging water hyacinth. After scattering Karen's ashes and shedding my tears, this was exactly what I needed.

We putted along until it was time to stop for drinks (yes, at a small canal-side cafe owned by someone's friend or relation). The place was lovely, set in a watery garden, and I spent some time chatting with Chris, another solo traveller from Wales.

The rest of the trip was the return run, popping back out onto the Can Tho river and heading for town. I arrived ready for a shower and a nap. A full day spent before lunch.

Family

I walk and I watch. I sit on my terrace and I watch. People fascinate me. Endlessly entertaining, I love the street theater of people out and about. In Vietnam, a great portion of the day is spent in plain view. Shops open onto the street, living spaces are open, and people congregate at impromptu sidewalk cafes and in front of workplaces. The community is in the open, observable most any time of day, morning through evening.

Here in Can Tho, with its riverside promenade, Vietnamese life is even more observable. Here is my particular observation of this evening. Vietnamese people seem to be very devoted parents. Children are doted on everywhere I go, by both women and men. One of the fastest ways to get the nod of approval from the Vietnamese matrons is to make go-go eyes and silly faces at whatever small child is about.

Below my terrace, the square is full of families. Little kids dash or toddle about with their parents in tow. I have yet to see a parent resort to harsh words or swatting the kids. I know that Vietnamese parents are not perfect, but based on continued observation they are, indeed, very devoted. The dads that I can see right now, and there are many, seem to vastly enjoy walking behind their offspring as they careen about the square under Uncle Ho's beneficent bronze smile.

I have my own little gag that I have been pulling with the local kids. When I am walk-about, kids will shout out "Hello!" to me. I quickly answer "Sing Chao," which is of course Hello in Vietnamese. They think this is pretty funny and so do their parents.

The small joys of being the Other. Be well and try to smile at a kid today. It will do you a world of good.

Presence and Abscence

This is a photo of the most important place, for me, in all of Vietnam.

This journey is significant and deeply personal, because of who is present with me and who is absent. Today was an opportunity to celebrate and grieve. Today I was with my friend, Karen Morgan, whom I loved very much. Whom I continue to love.

Karen died this year after a long illness. She was a fellow traveler, and a good traveler. Karen was an adventurer, a laugher, a terrible practical joker and wickedly funny. Karen was my friend, and I her's, during some very hard times and some very good times. In that large tribe of people that included Karen and her partner Dave Leffman, meals were shared and wine was spilled. Year in and year out we marked the winter solstice by snow-shoeing or skiing to Source Lake, high in the Cascade Mountain. Partying around the fire, we would stay awake all night like good pagans, making sure the sun would rise on the world again after that longest night. Karen's beauty shown through any darkness, even in her long struggles.

Karen Morgan was my friend, and I miss her terribly. We held a memorial for Karen in the forest of the Cascade mountains, accompanied by the rushing of the Snoqualmie River and lit by a full moon. At that memorial, Dave entrusted small boxes of Karen's ashes to those of us who were willing to spread her ashes in a special place.

I brought that small physical piece of Karen Morgan with me on this journey. I carry a much larger presence of Karen in my heart. Today, on the Can Tho river, near a beautiful floating market, I mixed a portion of those ashes into the slowly moving waters. The Can Tho flows into the Mekong and the Mekong flows to the sea. I know that Karen would have loved it here.

This journey of mine continues on, and Karen with it. I have decided that the next place that I will leave some of Karen's ashes will be in some hidden nook at Angkor Wat. The last portion of Karen's ashes I will leave in Isan, the Far East of Thailand.

I do not know what to say in closing. I struggle for the truth of this. I will keep Karen's memory alive in my heart. My world is lessened by those whom I love who move out of this world. My world is blessed by those whom I come to love who move into this world. We do not die who are remembered, we who are held in the hearts of those who loved us.

Street Stalls

I always wondered where the street stalls go overnight, and where the evening stalls go during the day, and, well, I've wondering about many things. At least I have solved this one riddle.

Kicking in the Season

It's good to know that the holiday spirit is in fine form, even here in SE Asia. The amazing thing about this burst of holiday cheer is that, regardless of the Vietnamese lyrics, the catchy tune blaring out of the store was "Old Susanna." Who knew it was a holiday classic?

Bus Ride to HELL

Today was a simple bus ride, an easy travel day. First, I found a scooter guy, did the tough negotiation, walked off when the price wasn't right and was called back. OK, we go. Six kilometers to the bus stations. Then, in one of my little quirks, the one that involves loving to fuck with the Tuk-Tuk and scooters guys, I tipped him when we got there. After a tough round of bartering, this always cracks them up.

My timing was good and the next bus was in thirty minutes, time to have a piss (costs 2,000 dong) and get a seat. The bus was only half full, a joy, and off we went through the hammering heat. So far, so good. Until the bus mistress climbed aboard.

Every bus, be it local or not, has a bus boy or a bus mistress. They rule the roost. DO NOT mess with them. They have all the power AND they are the only ones who can tell you when you are supposed to get off. Trust me on this one. I have walked the extra kilometer caused by a too early or to late disembarkation.

Back to this particular bus mistress. Picture Aunt Bea from Mayberry RFD. For those of you too young to remember Aunt Bea (this includes you, Nathan) go watch Nick-at-Night. Now, picture Aunt Bea as a Vietnamese woman. Are ya with me so far? OK, here is where is gets tricky. Imagine that our Vietnamese Aunt Bea, looking all sweet and motherly "Oh Andy, have another piece of pie on the porch while I fix some lemonade...", picture that Vietnamese Aunt Bea as an evil storm trooper from Star Wars, except one that could shoot straight. Wait, that's not it exactly. Picture her as an Orc from Mordor, one of the really bad-assed Orcs. Now give her a built-in megaphone to magnify her already incredibly screechy voice. We are getting close now. Now imagine yourself trapped in a rattly local Vietnamese bus with this demon from hell, a demon who screams foully at everything and everyone, without a pause, for three hours.

In all honesty, for all I know this creature was making loving comments the whole time and just had an extremely annoying and grating way of doing it. I do not really know. But if I had a blaster, well Luke, that would have been that.

Can Tho

Here are some random scenes from today's walk-about in Can Tho. Although this is a destination on the Tourist Trail, it seems to be very early in the season. There are a few foreigners about, to be sure, and the occasional tour bus. The surprise is that the handful of travelers about disappear in the waves of Vietnamese roaming about below my terrace. It is almost cacophonous, with vendors, screeching kids, scooters and families out for their promenade. And I have the best seat in the house.

Ciao for now and a Happy Thanksgiving to all of you in the Blogisphere. Citizens of the World, Enjoy your Turkey!

Healthy

I went all veg head tonight when I found a Vietnamese Veggie joint. Fresh lemon ice, tofu Bun (vermicelli) and cute little spring rolls.

Snack Time!

Its called Cha Bong, its hard to say properly, and it is my new tasty treat of the day. Rice tortilla-like things are covered with filling, green onions and nuts and little chopped up bits of who knows what, which are then drizzled with two kinds of sauce. The delicate little thing is carefully grilled over a charcoal brazier and then folded. Its a Vietnamese Street Taco!!! Brothers and Sisters, these things are amazing!!!

Uncle Ho by Night

The Old Man is having a party below my terrace and the whole damn town is invited. This place is so cool. The entire town has turned out for the evening breeze off of the river.

Level-land

Can Tho, Mekong Delta, Vietnam

The Mekong Delta is flat. The Mekong River has its beginnings worlds away, up on the Tibetan Plateau. It winds and plunges and carves its way from Tibet, splits Lao from Thailand, crosses Cambodia and then enters Vietnam, splitting into two great branches, the north and south. Then it fans out into many arms, the six largest each wider than the Colombia river back in my home state of Washington. The Mekong river built this delta with silt and sand and mud and mountains ground to dust. One of the largest riverine landscapes on the planet, the Mekong Delta was slowly driven out into the Gulf of Thailand and the China sea, jutting further and further south as the eons passed.

This is a landscape that is always seeking a common level. Think of it as a sort of Second Law of Thermo Dynamics. The Second Law states that all systems seek entropy, the common lowest temperature possible in any system. Another way to view this law of physics is that all systems are in a state of decay. I have always taken great comfort in that fact, but I digress. In the case of the Mekong Delta, all systems seek a common level, an entropy of flat.

If there is a declivity here, anything below the level, it is filled with water. Anything above the level is either a sentient being, has leaves and branches, or is man-made. And the watery parts, well, they are trying to become not-watery parts. All of the canals require dredging to stay open or they will fill with silt and plant life until the land becomes level, but rarely walkable. River channels shift constantly, becoming land where they were and water where they weren't. Anything above the level is trying to sink to back to it, buildings included.

You cannot bury your dead here. Not in this landscape. Coffins, like everything else here, seek the common level, buoyed from the soil by the water just below it. The dead rest above ground. In most family or village rice paddies there is a bit of ground as high as the paddy dike and as dry. On this postage stamp of land, just above the level, are the stone and concrete crypts. It is easy to spot the older crypts. They are sinking to the level. The dead are kept close and honoured, but they are not immune to the pull.

Outside of main towns, houses are built on stilts and deliveries more often than not come by water. I have hired a boat for tomorrow, and my own Ferguson to guide me around the labyrinths of this watery world. Mrs. Ha, or perhaps her Uncle (or one of her friends or relations, Rabbit) will take me to two of the famous floating markets. We are leaving at 5:30 AM so as to see the markets and not the tourists coming to see the markets.

I also have a more personal mission to perform tomorrow while out on the river. I will speak of this when it is done.

Sent from the Watery Lair of the Flying Monkeys

A Ho sort of Holiday

Happy Thanksgiving from Can Tho, Mekong Delta, Vietnam.

Uncle Ho sends his regards as well.

Typical

If your hotel does NOT have brekkie, do not despair. The world of morning street food is waiting for you, complete with little tiny wee plastic chairs that will make you feel like you are in elementary school again, except in a bad dream.

Food comes first. Often not a good idea to have coffee at the food place. Go for Nunk Da, which is watered down iced tea. Safe to drink. Yeah, yeah, I know "The Ice Is Not Safe." Well, take your chances or don't. In the bus station in Vientiene? Damn straight its not safe. Here, so far, it is.

Point to what looks good and smile a lot. The locales think you're funny. Its ok, you are funny.

After Brekkie, its time for coffee. And a cigarette, whether you smoke of not. Get used to it, almost every Vietnamese person sporting even one testicle smokes cigarettes. They think cigars are wild. Its fun to throw them off.

Brekkie complete, its time to think of the day. Today, I believe I will go on to Can Tho, famous for it floating markets. Which also means back to tourists, but so far not many.