Sapa

As the train pulled in to the station in Lao Cai, I realised that a few months of being tanned and wearing flip-flops had made me forget how cold the world can be. Freezing! The weather was treacherous like a Norwegian spring; warm and sweating in the sun, cold and pleasant in the shade, and then, all of a sudden, chilling you to your bones as the shades turned into evening. The sun rose as the minibus took myself, Holly, Jenny, Kirsty and Emma to the mountain city of Sapa; revealing a stunningly beautiful scenery of rice terraces along the sloped mountain sides.Stumbling into the first decent looking place for breakfast it turned out we were all set if we wanted to; the manager could organise a local guide for a home stay, with profits going back into the community. We decided to go for it--and had two amazing days with Chi, a woman of the Black H'mong tribe, originally from the Lao Chai village (not to be mistaken for the city with train station). We walked there with some of her friends and family, meeting the rest of her family along the way; or at least the women. I saw men every now and then, but in general Vietnam--both in the cities and in the mountains--is a country where I've found myself swarmed by women in most situations. Having a female guide was a pleasant change, and during the trip she answered questions we did not know we should ask, cooked amazing food and had the local hosts (of the Dzao tribe, in another village) serve us multiple shots of "happy water" to keep the the general mood happy. And it was! (Despite the cold...)

Halong Bay

Part of traveling is the transport leg to what you really want to do, getting to know your group of travelers on the road. The bus to Halong Bay included some rather anonymous individuals scattered inbetween a bunch of hung-over guys with pen markings all over themselves; one of which I had met the night before as he ventured into the female dorm to find a toilet in his rather drunken state. As the morning unfolded, his name-brother and friend kept feeding the bus with never-ending random facts. My plan to sleep a bit on the way was made even more difficult by our guide; a British-sounding, Italian-looking beach bum kind of guy--called Stacey. No kidding, a boy named Stacey. He demanded that everyone to tell their name and something about themselves so we could get to know eachother and have fun... That plan stumbled at the second seat already, as people wondered what sort of a name "Tiril" was? Evidently, everyone else had normal names, like Charles, Jenny and Simon. And Stacey. And they thought my name was weirder still. In the end I found myself absolutely squashed between Simon and Stacey as I tried to doze off in my seat, and despite the name-barrier we got to know each other anyway. Arriving in Halong Bay was breathtakingly beautiful--and the place was lovelier the farther away we got from the city. The rugged karst formations seemed to be dotting the water endlessly, with scattered floating houses and fish farms inbetween; small mourings, fancy houses and even more floating homes. I had booked a three-day trip, and the first day was a relaxing one; enjoying the scenery, spotting the kite birds that soared above us every now and then, kayaking, swimming and drinking beer. As the night arrived I got to feel some of the Vietnamese winter, though; freezing in my cabin on the junk (i.e. boat) and huddling up in my woolen long-sleeve! The second day arrived with more lovely, sunny weather--and a total of 5 amazing climbs up the karsts...absolutely amazing! The climbs were easy enought to start with, making it easy to enjoy the view--as the afternoon progressed I felt my fear of heights kick in a bit more as I traversed narrow ridges and lunged for the safe hold I could not see. In the end I fell down enough times to give up the last top, but it was still great fun. The night was spent on Cat Ba Island, before we slowly made our way back to Halong City and the bus to Hanoi the next morning. Feeling somewhat battered most people seemed to head for a bed or a beer--myself, Holly, Jenny and Kirsty found tickets for the sleeper train leaving for Lao Cai (Sapa) the very same night, and hit one of the lovely local reastaurants before catching our sleeping ride up in the mountains.

Venturing north: Hanoi

Running from tailor to tailor--and then back again!--yesterday I managed to collect all my purchases, fill a big box with them, and ship it all home by airmail. Supposedly it will reach my Mom's home for Christmas; we'll see. Tired but happy I got on a moto (motorbike taxi--i.e., a guy with a motorbike and a spare helmet) with my backpack, to get to the bus that would take me to Huế and finally Hanoi--happily sleeping in a bed on the road! Well, that was the plan anyway, but as I'm sure you know--planning is highly overrated! The first bus arrived 1 hour after I was picked up and the moto driver hurried me for being late, as it was already 2 pm and 5 minutes past pick-up time! (They always pick you up 30 mins after pick-up time, so I delayed deliberately to get some fruit.) Then, at 3 pm this was, we left--and broke down within three blocks from the bus company's office. That is about 5 minutes of driving. Yet an hour or so later, we started rolling again, finally! Arriving in Huế I had to change to a sleeper bus, which was a sleeper bus alright. I got a bed at the very back, where you have five beds cramped together. Originally bunking me up with four local guys someone in the company thought a bit and by the time I was back from the toilet I was bunking with four other international girls. So far, so good! I even had a window bed, so fresh air could be abundant as well as a view if I couldn't sleep. All I needed was dinner, and they assured us--food stop is at 6.45 pm! Closer to 21 pm I got some sort of meal at the kind of roadside dinner the busses always stop by in Asia, and was finally ready to go to sleep like a little baby. That's when the driver decided we had delayed too much, and it was time to pick up some speed... You know those video games with car races? It looked like that from my point of view--and a grand view that was, at the very rear of the bus with a widow my own length, as I saw the lights of cars coming from the other direction, swerving a bit, honking! They honk a lot when they drive in Asia in general; most often just to say that "hi, I am here". Added with the zig-zag patern the driver took the bus in to advance on the other cars, the total amount of honking was coming close to unbearable... You'd think it would stop after a while, but as it turned out--I spent two solid hours awake, finaly gave in and took one of the valiums some other traveller had given med previously when I could not sleep, and dreamt that the bus was trapped in a traffic circle surrounded by angry elephants hinking and charging at us... and the I woke up in central Hanoi, it was 7.30 am and apart from the added sunlight--nothing had changed. The joy of Vietnamese busses is getting me to a point where I will be getting a train ticket for my next leg of independent journey--Sapa. Before that, however, I go on a small group tour to Halong Bay with my hostel. It's time for karst rock scenery from another world, kayaking, rock climbing and (jada, Jarle!) deep-water soloing! Woho! Don't expect to hear from me the next week, I'll be out having fun.

PS: Hanoi is beautiful, at least the old quarters, and water puppet shows are good fun.

Streets in Hanoi

The Temple of Literature

Tailors and ruins

Winter is coming in Vietnam, with storms and floods dominating the weather in Hoi An. Although it's not really cold--I never wear any more than a long sleeve sweather during the day; sight-seeing really isn't the big thing as the water forces me from the streets into little cafes and tailor shops. What normally happens is that I find something very pretty and give my visa card yet another blow... Although still within bearable dimensions, it seems to be time to move on after two days at various tailors'! This morning I defied the pouring rain and darkness though, and headed towards My Son--the ruins of hindu temples built by the once mighty Champa kingdom, controlling the middle of Vietnam for several centuries at around 800-1000 AD. The Champa were apparently notorious for waging conflicts with neightbours both in the north and south , and were later crushed into oblivion. The remainig people converted to Islam at some point, with only a fraction of the 100.000 antecendants still believing in the Hindu gods the temples were built to worship. The ruins today are very worn down and mostly shattered--particularly as a reault of the Americans' B-52 carpet bombing during the war, when the Viet Cong hid there. They still hold plenty of beauty in their own way, and covered in mist with a backdrop of lush green and no more than 4 other visitors at the same time I had a lovely morning wandering around. Back in Hoi An I had the sense to get my bus ticket to Hanoi for tomorrow--before I found yet another lovely dress at yet another tailor's...

Hoi An: A 24 hours bus ride to the tailor's!

My next stop in Vietnam was Hoi An, pretty much half-way up the country on the map, just south of China Beach where the Americans landed their first troops in the country. Yes, that is actually a geographical description that means my grandfather can figure out where I am, and although it is practical it is also a little scary. However, to get here is another story! It is late and I am famished, so I have to make this short, but let me say--despite being long (24 hours as oppsoed to the 18 hours promised by the agency that sold the ticket), it was truly entertainig! Highlights include a poor little boy who had to puke every hour or so; as his mom struggled with the smell the n'th time I offered here my little jar of tiger balm (Asian people use tiger balm for all sorts of smart things!)--to sniff, I though, but the boy nex to me rubbed it on the little boys tummy, and on his tongue! Oh my..! I made a rather weird crying sound; I had never imagines to put tiger balm on anyones tongue!--and so the entire bus laughed equally at me and the littl eboy trying to clean his tongue from the ghastly taste. Yet again the bus laughs, yes--it happens on most of my bus rides here. After that people seemed more eager to interact, and half of the people asked to borrow some tiger balm for this or that, lending a warm smile as they did. At the first food stop this paid off as help to order food, and one of my best meals in Vietnam! No need to say, it was a curry; my favourite by far. As the bus wheeled on along the coast for hours and hours, I had to chat with a lady who showed me photos of the buddhist monk son with a newly shaved head, befire she photographed me with her cell phone camera in the same manner. Then she tried to steal a small dog for me (this was at a food stop), but was discovered. Fortunately all laughed. Then she did as all Asians do--pinched my nose, smiled like an old grandma and exclaimed "Big! Beautiful!" and laughed warmly. The entiore bus agreed that indeed my nose was particularly big and beautiful. A little while later one of the guys working for the bus company told me he travelled alone too and showed me all the half-kinky photos of magazine girls in typical page 3 style he had on his phone. Needless to say; no explanation given as to why. Arriving in Hoi An at noon today I checked in to an amazingly cozy guest house--an old Chinese family home, complete with a small family shrine in the courtyard! My room overlooks it all, with old wooden patio doors leading to a tiny balcony and a view of the market and even a few tailors. Having strolled the city for a few hours I've found some cozy cafes, the prices for shipping stuff back home, and realised that I have to keep watch on my visa card as I am liable to order a new wardrobe from the amaxing stuff they tailor here.

The American War

Saigon is a lovely city to explore byt foot, cyclo and moto--and I have tried it all in the few days I was there. The vendors try to charge you astronomous amounts of money for a small bottle of water, but in the end you the get hang of it (or at least so you think; who knows--they'd never go in on a deal if their end was too short!) and so you can see past the hassles and enjoy yourself. I went for a lovely stroll in sunshine and then rain to find the Pagoda of the Emerald Buddha--a peaceful retreat only one street away from a busy intersection, in a typical Chinese style and with a myriad of doves and other birds fluttering about as I sat down; then cooling me off with their flapping wings as they moved around to inspect me from one angle or another. However, as one explores Vietnam the more protruding part of history that one "have to see" is always related to the Vietnam War--or the American Agression War as it is named from a Vietnamese perspective. Saigon was a Viet Cong stronghold as strong as any, and the remnants of the war are not difficult to find. I started with the Cu Chi tunnels. Viet Cong's network of undergound tunnels had every function of a normal village. They would hide here during the day only to be able to come out at night, for fresh air and raids agains the Americans. The tunnels are an amazing web of tiny shafts, originally no more than 80 cm high some 40 cm wide--and with plenty of traps to kill you even if you manage to enter, unless you know where to go. They have anlarged a section for tourists to crawl through; the truly much bigger 130 x 60 cm space still made me claustrophobic, though! In total they had a few hundred kilometres of such tunnels, on three levels; connecting them to the Saigon river, to schools, kitchens, workshops, ... all the amenities needed to live and rund a war. In a similar manner, the area above ground was filled with any nasty home-made trap you can imagine; most of them designed to make it a horrible experience to discover them by chance... It did not take me long to realise that arriving there from a small American town, with no previous experience in wandering a jungel where an unknown number of invisible people want to kill you with metal spikes must be truly terrifying. Still, the Americans on my tour were smiling and happy as they posed on the tank that was left in the forest in 1970, after a landmine destrayed its belts. Sure we'll smile and pose on the remains of our country! (Yes, I did ask if they actually thought it fitting..) Their smiles were replaced with indignation and disgust at the end of out visit though, as an old propaganda film from 1967 was shown--"I didn't expect the propaganda!" might be a natural thing to say, it was rather anti-American; but what did you expect the Vietnamese side of the war at the time to be? And how could you not see it coming when they parade the tank and whatever else of yours they managed to destroy? To be honest, the variations over childish joy and pure indignation and hatred the Americans on the trip showed fascinated me just as much as the tunnels; it was like watchin little kids love the game and play it hard, but when they feel and their own knees got scratched, it hurts and they want it to end as it's no fun anymore. They seemed to forget to reckognise that at the same time, the Americans were not really much better than the Viet Con, bith in torture and propaganda. The photographs at the War Remnant Museum in Saigon have mainly been taken by Western photographs documenting the atrocities that were committed. More than anything else, the motifs are only sickening, making me realise that the Iraqi prison happenings are no new pehomena in American warfare; it's just that back then most soldiers did not have their own digital camera, and so their perverted ideas of "everything goes in love and war" was never digitalised and sent online to the extent that it is now.

In Saigon

After a lot of discussion, waiting for "5 minutes only now" and a few minor threats, I got on a bus to Saigon this morning. I was the only non-Vietnamese person there--and today that apparently meant that everone should make an effort to say at least one word to me. Amazing! I have tried eating water lily seeds (don't eat them whole; peel them and then eat them, or else the entire bus laughs), learnt to say hello in Vietnamese by the local vendor women, eaten my luch with completely random, friendly old men from another bus, and had a truly long moto ride with a poor guy balancing my big backpack for a very decent price. They warned me that Vietnam is a continuously ongoing scam; and it seemed so this morning, but as I've left the border city this country has also become much friendlier... It is a quick stop though! Trying to do it all, which is always too much, I have only a day or two here in Saigon before I go on to Hoi An in the middle of the country. My tickets to Taipei have finally been booked (sorry for taking so long, Christiaan!) and Aslak is booking me onwards to South Korea as we speak. The globetrotting part is definitely picking up speed, but I am having a great time on the carusel and still looking forward to getting home for Christmas. But first; Vietnam has to be discovered ...

Boating my way to Vietnam

New day, new country is always an exciting thing to be able to say--and today started pretty much so, as I got a bus to somewhere before venturing on a boat taking me down the Mekong to a border crossing between Cambodia and Vietnam. After a few whiles of waiting, a 1000 riles (USD 0.25) fee for a "medical examination" made by a "health camera" (which looked pretty much like any other CCTV camera to me), some bad exchange rates and a free coconut the boat arrived in Chaou Doc, Vietnam early in the afternoon. It took a bit of walking and looking before I could find a decent guest house along with an unnamed Aussie/Swiss couple I met on the boat (they had a map, I tagged along)--but I am currently residing at the roof toplevel of a charming guesthouse set in a typicalold French building, with varandah doors,a lovely double bed and hot water (that's a rare one here!) for the lovely price of USD 5. The joy is short-lived though; I already booked my bus to Saigon for 6:30 am tomorrow.